Showcase Showdown

I rocketed out of bed this morning like I was shot out of one of those circus cannons that deposit you onto a cargo net in the distance. I couldn't boot up my computer fast enough. It was six a.m. I checked my email inbox but it wasn't there. Maybe it was in the other email account--not there.

This had to be an oversight. I knew Obama had won the election. News clips of ecstatic followers nearly passing out from excitement flashed on the TV last night from Chicago, Harlem, Los Angeles etc. The reaction was reminiscent of people on the Price is Right when they win the Double Showcase Showdown so I knew good things were in store for me today. On the other hand the McCain supporters had that "I just overbid" hangdog look about them.

Figuring (from everyone else's reactions) that great things were to be bestowed upon me by a stranger I made a mental list of what I wanted. Surely the Messiah would not let me down. Only he and maybe the Great Pumpkin could provide me with an Annual Training Plan (I kept checking for an email from Him with "ATP" in the subject line) that would make me swim like Michael Phelps, increase my FTP to well north of 400, and award me a VDot of 100! Of course if his tax plan were applied to triathlon achievement people on the current podium will have to donate a certain percentage of their achievement (say 5-10 minutes on the swim; 30 minutes on the bike; 30 minutes on the run) to people who were just too lazy to train. We need to spread the triathlon wealth around a bit.

Not finding Obama's email I went to the Erie Canal for a short run. Surely he would pop out of the bushes (political pun intended...sic on the non upper case "b") with a folder just for me and run with me a bit. He does have some Kenyan roots and he could imbue me with their secrets but alas he didn't show.

Crestfallen I went to Wegman's. Maybe Michelle Obama or Ol' Joe Biden would show up in the cookie aisle and give me my prize in the form of 2-for-1 Oreo coupons or pop up at the checkout with a bottle return credit. No one was in the checkout line except for a mom and her crying kid. What was he crying about? He got to ride in a cart shaped like a freakin' car. "When I was your age kid we didn't have fancy shopping carts..."

So I was going to have to do everything for myself. It wouldn't be handed to me. I wasn't going to receive a present that would make me dance about like I'd just won two new cars, a refrigerator and a trip to Acapulco.

The groceries came to 67.02. I didn't have two pennies...that would've been change I needed.

P.S. I don't vote. I believe that electing people for political office is akin to selecting the hair color of your prostitute. You make a choice you like but you end up being serviced harshly, lighter in the wallet and you'll probably catch some nasty disease.