So, I was happy to learn that Obama is a closet smoker. Not because I smoke or because I think smoking is cool or am in any way espousing that you should begin smoking today.
But it does make him seem more human to me. That’s something I can picture him doing when things get tense in the Oval office. Sneaking over to his private bathroom and lighting one up. Kinda like Eddie Murphy in Trading Places. Except that Eddie lit up a doobie. But hey, maybe Obama is a closet slacker too.
Being a pantry Tequila nipper, I wonder what other things Obama does in the privacy of his own closet. No, not that kind of stuff, but little vices. Like, does he swear when he gets cut off on the freeway and then immediately look at his kids and say ‘Bad word.’ Cause I do that.
Or, does he wear silk panties under those incredibly well cut suits? Cause I used to do that.
Does he go to parties and drink alot and then think he can sing and dance and converse intelligently with the opposite sex? Cause well, you know . . . Or is he a party napper like hubunit? About two thirds of the way thru any party at our house, should you wonder where hubunit is, you can just follow the trail of clothes that lead to our bedroom and discover that hubunit has had enough fun and has now gone to bed.
I’m thinking that the parties at Barak and Michelle’s house are a tad more sophisticated than the hoe-downs at Casa Lindaloohoo, but just the thought that you might round a corner and catch the Big O firing up a Marlboro, makes me happy.
So I say, PUFF AWAY, Obama. I’ll sleep safer at night knowing there are smart people in the White House once again. Cause all I can think of is, why can’t I win at computer solitaire? Why? OK, obviously it’s time for me to nip into the pantry . . .













