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Convention Madness!
Now.
I realize fully that The Good Girls have agreed to discuss neither religion nor politics on this humble forum. So I will restrict all my comments about the past week to more innocent topics. More or less. But it’s hard–unless you’re certain individuals who shall remain nameless and will be discussed later–to have avoided, of late, getting swept up in Convention Madness. I, certainly, am guilty.
Wednesday night, the charming and delightful Renee Rosen and I thought it would be fun, diverting, and excellent to wander from my Urban Cottage in search of a lively establishment in which to watch my close, personal friend (see here) Bill Clinton speak at the Democratic Convention. And we wanted to hear Joe Biden as well.
Should’ve been easy, right?
NO. Apparently not, because every bar in the City of Chicago shows baseball on their TVs. And when you can (with just the right sort of effort) persuade an obliging bartender to change the channel, you have to do without sound. Which, if you want to hear a speech, well, isn’t so great. We walked and walked, going into countless places (in one, when we asked if we could watch the Convention, we were asked, “Is that the Democrats or the Republicans?”–see above, not getting swept up in Convention Madness), with no luck.
Finally, feeling more than a little defeated, we followed a flickering blue light in the distance and stumbled into The Chicken Hut. Look, it’s hard to go wrong with a bunch of roasted or broasted or whatever they are chickens, and the guys in there were more than happy to let us sit down and watch what we wanted to watch.
Only drawback?
They decided to close early. As in about three minutes after Biden started to talk. So we hit the street again–desperate, ready to start knocking on random people’s doors. Luckily, we didn’t have to go far, bopping into a salad place, about to close, where the lovely, beautiful, sweet girl working let us in, changed the channel, and turned up the sound.
And it was good.
But it did teach us to be better prepared. So for Barack Obama’s speech last night, we decided, along with the gorgeous Laura Caldwell, that we would hang out at a party hosted by my alderman, Vie Daley. AND IT ROCKED. Speech was amazing, and, as I promised not to be political, I will say only this: You KNOW Michelle Obama had a fabulous night. Because there is nothing better than watching your man kick some serious butt doing what he’s good at!
And we three Chicago girls were happy, happy, happy. Not only did we get to see and hear everything, not only was the beer and wine and food free-flowing, not only did we get to jump up and down and cheer (and Renee got to weep and Laura got to be impressed with Obama’s hair), we got signs. Although somehow, of the three of us, I’m the only one who seems attached to her sign. In fact, Laura and Renee gave theirs away to random strangers within moments of stepping outside.
But it was for a good cause. We’re hoping the gentlemen upon whom they were bestowed will register and VOTE. It is so, so important that we all get out and do just that: VOTE. So please, please, please, please–make sure you’re registered (click here for instructions) and get yourself to the polls on November 4.
And in the meantime, you can see the pictures from the Chicken Hut and more here….
xo
Tasha
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