So I woke up this morning pissed at the president. In my dream Barack Obama had dumped Michelle for a much younger and far inferior model. Instead of beating around the bush, “I did not have sex with that woman,” he immediately gave Michelle her walking papers and installed the young hussy in the White House.
I felt betrayed. What about all those “date nights?” The flirtatious dancing at the Inauguration? The fist bump that rocked a nation? Was it all a façade?
I love reading about history, but a lot I’ve read about presidential marriages upsets me. I liked the ideals of the Kennedy’s’ Camelot, and I LOVED the clothes. But the pill popping and sex swapping? Not my cup of tea!
I was hoping the Obamas would be different. Until last night.
Now you might wonder how Sasha and Malia figured into the dream. They didn’t even have a cameo. I think that MIGHT have been because a certain someone who had a milestone birthday this week, and who also likes to bare her arms in a fun sheath dress now and then, may have been relating solely with Michelle in this particular dream.
I mean that little hussy he brought in? Do I even need to describe her to you? A reality star wannabe? A celebrity in her own mind? So skinny and young she’d probably slip down the drain when she took a shower? A vapid vixen raised in the era of MySpace and “friends with benefits.” What was Barack thinking? Trading in Michelle, Princeton graduate, trailblazer, true partner and great mom for such a substandard replacement? Ugh.
I know Mr. Obama got a lot of female validation after those shirtless Hawaii photos came out. I know I certainly appreciated them. But no need to get so high on oneself you start to look elsewhere for a good time. Mr. President, we know Michelle’s been your rock in every way during the past 20 years. You need to get a grip.
I fully expect you to wise up and see the error of your ways. And to help, I’m turning in early tonight so you can start digging yourself out of this one.
I felt betrayed. What about all those “date nights?” The flirtatious dancing at the Inauguration? The fist bump that rocked a nation? Was it all a façade?
I love reading about history, but a lot I’ve read about presidential marriages upsets me. I liked the ideals of the Kennedy’s’ Camelot, and I LOVED the clothes. But the pill popping and sex swapping? Not my cup of tea!
I was hoping the Obamas would be different. Until last night.
Now you might wonder how Sasha and Malia figured into the dream. They didn’t even have a cameo. I think that MIGHT have been because a certain someone who had a milestone birthday this week, and who also likes to bare her arms in a fun sheath dress now and then, may have been relating solely with Michelle in this particular dream.
I mean that little hussy he brought in? Do I even need to describe her to you? A reality star wannabe? A celebrity in her own mind? So skinny and young she’d probably slip down the drain when she took a shower? A vapid vixen raised in the era of MySpace and “friends with benefits.” What was Barack thinking? Trading in Michelle, Princeton graduate, trailblazer, true partner and great mom for such a substandard replacement? Ugh.
I know Mr. Obama got a lot of female validation after those shirtless Hawaii photos came out. I know I certainly appreciated them. But no need to get so high on oneself you start to look elsewhere for a good time. Mr. President, we know Michelle’s been your rock in every way during the past 20 years. You need to get a grip.
I fully expect you to wise up and see the error of your ways. And to help, I’m turning in early tonight so you can start digging yourself out of this one.
