So beginning my day, Sue and Buster and I got our paperwork and pens and stuff, and prepared to use our big words for the meeting:
Then the meeting people began arriving. In this case it was the Precinct Committeemen for the Republican Central Committee: (say that five times fast)
Precinct Committeemen are responsible for getting people registered to vote, getting stats at election time so voters can be contacted, and of course they're representatives of THE PARTY. Sometimes they forget that. They are happy to just have the title with no effort put into it. Ooops there I am, talking crap.
But I have been very proud of being a Precinct Committeeman, or PC, which is an elected position. I have my certificate of election framed at home, and I display it proudly in the doorway of the house. I'm sure the governor does the same with her, uh, certificate.
Not to change the subject, but, Hey, do you hate those darned property taxes?
That's the realm of the Property Tax Assessor. And here I am sitting on his lap.
AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!!!
The Sheriff of our respective county turned 60 years old that particular day, and his family planned a surprise "roast" for him. Although my camera batteries died, I did get this photo of the crowd as he walked in the door:
I hate cop jokes. I hate cops. (except Sheriff Sheahan) So I didn't find relief until I managed to get to the front of the bar line so I could explain to the "bartender" how to make a Mint Julep.
