The Unofficial Minutes

You may or may not know that part of my glamourous writing gig of life is covering certain monthly public meetings.

Often times, they are exciting, only in their ability to exite controversy and general assinine-ness. Some nights they are just plain boring.

Tonight was such a night.

It's not something I mind, mind you. I appreciate the work. That's my disclaimer.

Sometimes I pretend like I'm a real reporter and I am there solely to report the items that happen, and I don't have opinion one way or the other. Well, of course I have an opinion, I just don't get to voice it. I give them this blank face that refuses to register any emotion--I feel it's like my duty or something. I never say a single word, and do my job as the paid hack that I am. I write really boring things that doesn't make sense even to the two people that read it every month.

But if I could, I would love to report what actually occurs inside my head. And yes, I know I have the maturity level of a 6 year old.


I wonder how many sequins are on my sandals...

I'm pretending I'm writing something really important, but really it's my grocery list.

48. On each shoe.

Did I leave the curling iron on?

Oh if there is a God, He will strike lightning on the next person that makes a motion about a fucking flag pole.

37 minutes discussing a flag pole. I am going to gouge out my eyes with one.

If I slit my wrists, will my blood stain this Pergo floor?

I wonder if they would need a motion and a second to call 911. I hope my suicide would be added to the agenda and not just tabled for next month. Maybe they would have to take a vote first to see if help is warranted. That woman hates me, I bet it would fail to pass by even a small majority.

Maybe they think I work for the newspaper, and they think my name is Lois and they'll ask me out for coffee later and give me a "big scoop." Maybe they think I just have no life and am a local government committee groupie. Maybe they think I'm just a big loser.

Bingo.

It's a good thing they keep this room temperature at a pleasant 48 degrees. My corpse won't rot as quickly.

At what point did she think that blouse was a good idea?

Holy God, we are only on Old business...

And so it goes.

But the best part of the whole night occurred as the last gavel bang fell and the meeting was adjourned, I was out of there like Tori Spelling on a Lifetime movie audition, and the guy who held the door for me said, "If it weren't for those shoes, I'd have fallen asleep hours ago."

I love a man who appreciates footwear. I guess someone else was counting those sequins.

I think I'll wear those sandals with the sundress and conquer the world....