Two-Bears 2016

12491962_10208722225003628_5739998042421347095_oI have always been weirdly nerdy about voting. I registered to vote on my eighteenth birthday, and made the library ladies take my picture doing it so I could commemorate the moment. I vote in every election, no matter how small, partially because I enjoy performing my civic duty, and partially because it makes me feel super, super powerful, as if my one vote is what is going to make or break any race. “These poll numbers are all well and good,” a candidate might say. “But do we have the Oja contingent?”

That having been said, I don’t generally like to talk about politics, because while I pride myself on staying informed, my version of “informed” is “reading articles in thirty second intervals between microwaving dinosaur chicken nuggets and attempting to prevent my children from killing themselves while performing cannonballs in the bathtub.” I am in no position to argue convincingly in favor of any one candidate, and I don’t want to present anything as fact that turns out only to be a rumor (turns out Jeb Bush is NOT just two small bears stacked on top of each other wearing a George Bush Halloween mask, who knew?).

But I will say this one thing—this election cycle is scaring the shit out of me.

I don’t even want to get into an argument about it, because like I said, I am not always the most informed. Maybe I misunderstood all the articles I read about Donald Trump saying he was going to build a wall between us and Mexico and make Mexico pay for it. Maybe I don’t have the whole story about how he wants to ban all Muslims traveling to the US. Maybe he doesn’t really want to see protesters carried out of rallies on stretchers.

Maybe it’s all an act.

But at this point, even if it is entirely an act, I don’t see how he could continue, with a clear conscience, to go through with it.

So when you go to vote today, do it with an open mind and an eye to the future. Do you really want to live in an America that celebrates such hate and xenophobia? Do you really want to have to learn how to fistfight? Because I already know I would be terrible at it.

Make sure you vote. If you’re voting Republican, vote Kasich or Cruz, or Rubio, or even old Two-Bears Bush. You don’t get to complain if you don’t vote. And isn’t complaining what America is really all about?

Questions for adults

As I’ve previously mentioned, I feel like I am totally faking my way through adulthood. I seem to be getting away with it, since I somehow managed to get married, have a family, and find a job, all without understanding how to manage my 401(k) or properly apply eyeliner. Many of you have indicated to me that you’re faking it, too, but I suspect at least some of you out there are really bona fide adults. And I have some questions.

*Do you actually enjoy eating broccoli? Or are you aware that they’re just tiny trees? Does eating it make you feel like a dinosaur destroying prehistoric forests?

*Where do you store your important paperwork? Is it in a giant Tupperware bin in your basement? Because that’s where mine is, and I can tell you it’s totally worked for me, plus every attempt to find my stock certificate or mammogram results from five years ago is like a big archaeological adventure.

*When did I get old enough to have important paperwork?

*How do you fold a fitted sheet?

*Do people really like Daniel Day Lewis? Or is this just a thing we say because he is a master of his craft, even though we secretly find him very creepy and think he looks like a mustache-twirling villain tying a woman to some train tracks?

*Are you the master of any crafts? Does cross stitch count as a craft in this sense of the word? Because I have completely mastered that fucker.

*How do you know if the waste management company you’re using currently is really the best one for you? Do you actually research this? Or do you just get the same bin everyone else on the street has and hope for the best?

*How did you figure out how to work the pick-up line at school? I still just drive in like a kamikaze and just take whatever kid is nearest by.

*Aren’t you at all concerned about this Donald Trump situation? Is there someone we can call to fix this?

*Why can’t I read an article about Canada’s prime minister without thinking about how hot he is?

*Black coffee, huh? Really?

*Why do men enjoy watching so many shows about Hitler? Do you actually secretly like Hitler? Because I mean, I like Jon Hamm, and make a point of watching every show he’s in. But you guys know Hitler was, like, not good, right?

I hope one day to be able to confidently answer any of these questions, but for now, I am just baffled. Any adults out there, please feel free to chime in in the comments. That is, if you’re not afraid of revealing your True Adult status.

And now, a word from Kim’s Headache

What up, jerks?

This is Kim’s Headache—the one she’s had for the last two days, that makes it feel like there’s a balloon filled with acid threatening to pop inside her entire neck and head area. You know, the kind that starts out all innocently, like, man, I must have slept wrong on my awesome new pillow, but NOPE, because I AM HERE TO DESTROY YOUR WORLD, MOTHERFUCKER.

Kim never gets headaches, either, which is what makes this so fun. She literally prides herself on it, as if not getting headaches is an actual skill she has cultivated over the years. She gets the stomach flu as easily as making eye contact with a weird IT guy in the work elevator, but headaches, never.

So when I come in and unpack my bags and take my Frito-smelling socks off and drape them over the radiator of her brain, she freaks the fuck out. It’s suddenly Hug Your Children One Last Time Before You Die time, because It Is Obviously Brain Cancer.

And I am an extra bad headache, too, not the kind that you can banish with a couple of Advil and a glass of hot tea. I am the kind of headache that takes at least four Advil and a crucifix to even slightly subdue. I’m the kind of headache that removes your sense of taste and replaces it with the taste of grass clippings and metal, even though you can still smell everything just fine, just because I can.

Kim’s other organs tried to stand up to me, and I’m like, whatever, you’re fat and stupid and nobody loves you, and they all just ran away crying. I am like the Donald Trump of headaches.

And you know what? Also like Donald Trump, I have decided that I am never leaving. I’ve got a good gig here. I kind of outgrew Kim’s head and face area, so I’ve annexed her lymph nodes. They’re like a pied a terre for my awfulness. I didn’t anticipate that my move would also make it more difficult for Kim to swallow, but good. I am glad.

I know once I finally get evicted, it might be ages before I can sneak back in here, so I’m living it up. EDM Dance Party in Kim’s sinus cavity right now, and y’all are invited. Because I am nothing if not generous. I keep it 100.