I'm from Ohio too. It embarrasses me. Especially because of Bush, but also because I'm paying taxes to a state that won't let me get married.
If it makes you feel any better, this is what happened to me on Election Day, when I ate a lot of speed and then frantically tried to get more people to vote for Kerry: Within the first 120 seconds of canvassing, a fierce gust of wind eviscerated my umbrella, so that I had to try to gather up its flapping corpse without dropping all my papers into the mud. One of the metal struts stabbed me in the meaty part of my index finger, all the way to the bone. There was this little ragged flap of skin just hanging out there like a doggie-door into my body. And the damn thing refused to stop bleeding because of the rain falling into it. It bled all over the precinct map and all over the precinct rolls, leaving these nasty stains all over it. (When I wasn't busy sucking on it out of some misguided fear that all the stimulants in my body were bleeding out of me, and that I'd get too tired to cover ground effectively.) So I called over to my yellow-pantsed comrade and told him that he'd better take the stuff because I was bleeding on it. He wasn't too happy to hear that. I went back to the car and discovered that although I had no anti-microbial agents or bandages, I did have a bottle of Jack in the trunk. So I poured some whiskey into my profusely-bleeding puncture wound and then dried it off on my car upholstery. This is even more disgusting if you've ever seen my car.
If it makes you feel any better, this is what happened to me on Election Day, when I ate a lot of speed and then frantically tried to get more people to vote for Kerry: Within the first 120 seconds of canvassing, a fierce gust of wind eviscerated my umbrella, so that I had to try to gather up its flapping corpse without dropping all my papers into the mud. One of the metal struts stabbed me in the meaty part of my index finger, all the way to the bone. There was this little ragged flap of skin just hanging out there like a doggie-door into my body. And the damn thing refused to stop bleeding because of the rain falling into it. It bled all over the precinct map and all over the precinct rolls, leaving these nasty stains all over it. (When I wasn't busy sucking on it out of some misguided fear that all the stimulants in my body were bleeding out of me, and that I'd get too tired to cover ground effectively.) So I called over to my yellow-pantsed comrade and told him that he'd better take the stuff because I was bleeding on it. He wasn't too happy to hear that. I went back to the car and discovered that although I had no anti-microbial agents or bandages, I did have a bottle of Jack in the trunk. So I poured some whiskey into my profusely-bleeding puncture wound and then dried it off on my car upholstery. This is even more disgusting if you've ever seen my car.
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