Now that you know the sheer massive amount of people we’re dealing with….don’t you think it’s time that I got some security detail as the First Lady of Podunk? Like big, beefy, Sylvester Stallone type bodyguards who follow me around all day
I’m telling you. We’re damn near famous. The Mayor Rambo and I.
Like this weekend, we stopped at the gas station in town. Rambo held the door open for an older lady and she said, “Good morning, Mayor” as she went on her way. She totally wanted his autograph but we were fresh out of Sharpie pens.
Another time a little, old man stopped me to tell me that Rambo does an exceptional job and the man was so excited that he got to nominate Rambo for the position of Mayor.
Honestly, it’s exhausting dealing with the fans. I’m going to need an agent soon.
On the flipside, there is always the “is this proper behavior for the mayor” stuff we have to deal with. Like at the bike ride Saturday when Rambo and I played “get the plunger in the hole” with about 100 other bikers.
Yes. Yours truly waddled about 20 feet with a plunger in between my legs while Rambo stood at the other end waiting for me to put said plunger in between the hole of the roll of toilet paper he was holding between his legs. (No - unfortunately - I'm not kidding.)
When we were done, a fellow leathered up dude with no teeth said, “I’m not sure Mayors should be participating in things like this.”
Crap. Destroy all the evidence. Delete all those pictures of me on my knees trying to stick a plunger in between Rambo’s legs.
Talk about blackmail material. In the future, we must be more careful.
There’s the ever-present looks of disapproval from the Mayor himself that are directed at me. I forget what I did but whatever I did was followed by, “You’d think as the First Lady you’d act a bit classier than that.” Then he runs away laughing like he’s the funniest thing since Comedy Central. Christ.
I ain’t no proper First Lady.
I mean – do proper First Ladies get propositioned daily like this: “Hey baby, wanna sleep with the Mayor tonight? I can make it happen. My people can contact your people and set it up.”
Ego much, dickweed?
Oh and last week? My snooty, holier than thou, hater of Rambo aunt was at my mom’s house. My mom was showing my aunt something very cool Rambo had given to my mom that was from the Village Hall. My aunt asked my mom where she got this cool thing. My mother just kept saying. “I’m in good with the Mayor. The Mayor gave it to me. Yah, the Mayor got that for me.”
Of course, my aunt said, “Who is the Mayor?” She’s not from here so she wouldn’t know.
My mother replied with a smirk, “Rambo is the new Mayor.”
You know – my son-in-law you hate? The one you think will amount to nothing? Yah. That one.
Yup, that settles it. We’re going to need a publicity and marketing strategy. Mainly to let everyone who told me Rambo was a piece of crap know - that somehow he turned out to be the Mayor. Oh, the joy of seeing their faces when they hear this stunning news. Just precious.
Lastly, our town’s annual festival was this weekend, so of course, there was a parade. All the surrounding communities enter floats and fire trucks and such. After the parade, someone stopped Rambo to ask him why he wasn’t in the parade with the other Mayor of the incorporated town. Why didn’t they have a Mayor float?
Dammit – because we are still assembling our publicity team – duh! This shit takes time. And then there’s the whole trying to fit Rambo’s extremely enlarged head through the front door too, you know? Geesh, people. Back off.
We are only humans.
Famous humans, yes. But still.
** Um…for those of you who think I’m serious about feeling and being famous and needing agents and having big heads…um well…you probably also think Obama is still gonna save us. I’m not serious and well, Obama? I won’t even go there.
I’m being sarcastic. All of the above actually did happen but our responses did not. Rambo is humbled and laughs at all the Mayor jokes he gets because he doesn’t fit the part and he knows it. Tattooed, biker prison guards who never spent a day in college aren’t exactly the conventional Mayor “types”….according to most people anyway.
Meh. It’s fine. I’ll sleep with him anyway.
It can’t be that bad. Besides, I’ve already slept with Satan if you recall.