In every effort to bring you hard-hitting, groundbreaking political news, we once again had our roving reporter on the ground this primary season. Super-Tuesdaying it all over the southern states, she left no stone unturned, she asked the tough questions, and she ate a lot of BBQ.
There is no question that when the Republican Party finally decides who their candidate will be, you’ll tell all your friends you read about it right here. And by “right here” we mean “somewhere else.” And here we go again…
March 3, 1:19pm EST: I’m in Georgia. No events today so I am cruising around the countryside to get a “feel” for things. What I “feel” so far is that I’m should be smoking my Marlboros, drinking by heavy and consuming boiled peanuts.
That’s “bud” heavy.
March 3, 3:17pm EST: Wish “need for speed” was an acceptable excuse for getting out of a speeding ticket. Needless to say, they take speeding very seriously here. Can’t wait to find out how much my joyriding cost me.
March 3, 7:55pm EST: So my eyes were bigger than my stomach at Boner’s BBQ. That’s what’s left after I stuffed myself. Which reminds me – at lunch I ate two pieces of white bread that had been buttered heavily and grilled kinda like a grilled cheese. If in addition to the cheese you imagine lettuce, tomato, mayo, bacon, and two fried chix fingers in between the slices. Because that’s what I ate.
March 4, 11:10am EST: Tried to go rogue from the press box 3 hours before Romney event (think, nobody puts baby in a corner!) And ended up having to move because I was in Mitt’s spot. Oops.
March 4, 1:10pm EST: Reid Epstein of Politico eats Three Musketeers and drinks 7-Up. And also, anyone who is anyone on the train has a Mac.
Except me, of course. Mine’s an old Dell, FYI.
March 4, 7:44pm EST: If there’s one thing worse than going out to eat at the bar alone, it’s going to a place where there’s no room at the bar to sit. This of course means I am forced to just drink until something opens up. #notsobad
March 4, 8:16pm EST: You can’t see them very well, but these are the “spicy rat toes” I just ordered. no rats actually involved in the making. On purpose anyway.
March 5, 12:59pm EST: Okay, headed to Chattanooga, Tenn – employing cruise control feature on my Nissan Versa so as to avoid getting busted by the vigilant GA sheriffs. Seriously, they are everywhere.
March 5, 6:20pm EST: Okay – who knew Chattanooga had a kick ass arts district? Not me. But very impressed.
March 5, 6:49pm EST: Newt’s AP traveling press just asked me how to spell Chattanooga. I told him. He asked where I was from. I said DC. I then made a joke about people in DC not knowing the difference anyway. That’s when he told me he was AP. And then walked away to make a phone call.
Presumably to have my press credentials pulled.
March 6, 6:53pm EST: Plan: begin affair with one of the many cute foreign reporters. He’ll “get” my line of work, but also no be around often enough to get in the way. On second thought, no need to limit myself to just one. #onepercountry
March 6, 7:41pm EST: It’s working. Nate or Nathan or Brian or Patrick from the BBC just got me a chair. What can’t I remember names?!
March 6, 8:40pm EST: Newt and Callista really kept the crowd waiting and now they both seem to have the after sex glow. #itstrue #hadtosayit
March 6, 9:32pm EST: Money Q right now – do they sell beer at gas stations?
Jackpot. Thank God for Publix.