You know how when you vote in Chicago, you go to the church gym, and there's like 20 ancient people there, and they shuffle you through the line in a surprisingly efficient fashion, and then you vote, like, immediately?
Apparently, that is not the case here. People keep knocking on my door and telling me that if I early-vote it will only take 45 minutes. Which means that it's projected to take much longer than that on Nov. 4. Which means that I am getting there as soon as the polls open because if I wait more than 45 minutes in line and then I don't get to go on a rollercoaster, I am going to be angry.
My goal is to be the foggiest, most disheveled person at my polling place. I bet I will say "wait, what?" a lot. I hope the ballots are clear.
4 comments:
what does he say when he calls you? he hardly calls me at all.
Well, usually it's just his people, and they're reminding me to get out and vote on Nov. 4. Sometimes though, I get the sneaking suspicion that it might be a recording of him because he doesn't converse appropriately.
Which reminds me, I heard this thing on public radio about how young people who are working on the campaign think that the big B is going to give them jobs once he's elected. Isn't that adorable?
yeah it's cute when kids have like dreams and things
It took me an hour to vote. At six a.m. And then Abby drove me past the polling place on our way to campus at nine, and no one was there. Grr.
Post a Comment