Seeing as how Anthony Weiner, occasionally known as Carlos Danger, has been in the news as of late for sexting pictures of his junk (again) since the last time he got caught, and is currently running for mayor of New York, we thought we would play around with the theme of political sex scandals today, in the form of a politician having an extraordinarily bad day. Enjoy!
8:10 AM. In the studio dressing room for my interview with the morning news show. Having hair and makeup done. My my my, that stylist is quite attractive. I wonder what she’s doing later? I want to ask if she’s interested in volunteering for the Senate re-election campaign, but we’re interrupted. It’s that annoying hairline challenged anchor who’s full of himself, saying hello. I wonder how someone like that makes millions of dollars a year...oh, that's right. He used to be a hunk. That's what got him off the news desk and into the anchor chair. The ladies loved him....still, I can't see that he's worth $25 million a year....
9:30 AM. Out of the studio for a speech at a Daughters Of The Revolution meeting. That went as smoothly as I could have expected. Isabella put on her best smile during the interview, or her poker face, as I put it. Anything for a campaign drive. I hope there’ll be some eye candy at the speech, but I doubt it. Daughters Of The Revolution tends to be grandmas having whisky in their tea.
9:45 AM. I was right. All blue-haired old dames. Too bad. It could have been fun. But I think this group literally might have been Daughters of the Revolution--as in daughters of the soldiers who fought in thar war!
10:45 AM. Shaking hands after the speech. One of the ladies tells me I remind her of her grandson. Oh, is he dashingly handsome and the center of the universe too?
10:50 AM. Just found out her grandson cheated on his wife repeatedly. His wife shot him in the nuts. Ouch!
11:15 AM. Stopping in at the campaign office with Isabella. We chat with some of the staff about how well things are going. My chief of staff looks tense. Bob always looks tense. I swear, the man was born tense. I deflect his need to talk for a few minutes, saying I need a few minutes. Isabella’s chatting with a couple of the aides. I head over to my office. I think I’ll text that stylist. Give her an eyeful of the patented Jeremy Warrington assets.
11:25 AM. Bob comes into the office, says it’s urgent. He informs me that Amber has told him about the fling she and I had two weeks ago upstate. She’s demanding money to keep quiet. Bob seems annoyed by my indiscretions. Oh, don’t go judging me, Bob. I’m a Warrington man. Sexual shenanigans run in the family. I can’t help myself.
11:45 AM. Bob and I are interrupted by an aide. It seems the media has breaking news. I turn on the television. CNN is reporting a pic of my assets was sent to a staff over at NBC less than a half hour ago. It seems she was not amused. It also seems she swings the other way. How was I supposed to know she doesn’t like guys?
12:05 PM. After calming Isabella down and assuring her it must be a mistake, I hear from the staff that the media is gathering outside. They smell blood. God, I hate reporters. They’re vultures.
12:35 PM. Okay, so that was officially the press conference from hell. Isabella looks beyond pissed at me. As if she’s contemplating the usefulness of a good divorce attorney. This is what I get for getting led around by something other than my brain...
12:45 PM. Bob says a door-to-door attempt to woo voters (okay, not the best choice of words) is a bad idea. He doesn't think seeing my smiling face when they open their door will help. He reminds me of the last time we tried that. The fellow who opened the door thought he'd caught the guy who'd been messing around with his wife. Having gotten a glimpse of the wife, I wish I had been. Lucky stiff!
1:10 PM. A call from the old man. Dad asks if I need any hush money paid out to make this all go away. Remarks on his own scandals involving college co-eds back in the day, and reminds me that I’m the family’s best chance at making the Oval Office some day. I know, Dad, I know. That’s what you’ve had in mind for me since I was in short pants. And I swear, there’ll come a day when I’m in the Oval Office, getting myself... serviced by a lovely young thing, just like President Bubba.
4:30 PM. I categorically deny everything when confronted by the press at another speech. Isabella isn’t with me. I wonder if she’s looking up a good lawyer. Oh, this’ll all blow over soon. I tell the reporters that obviously someone else hijacked my texts and has sent that off to the stylist in question. No, I am not interested in showing off my assets for comparison to the picture. Well, maybe to that lovely young reporter from the Times. I wonder what she’s doing later...
5:45 PM. Isabella sends me a text message. She's going to visit her parents. She doesn't know when she'll be back. That message is loud and clear--and doesn't need a picture. Not that she'd ever do such a thing...not my very proper political wife. Maybe that's the problem we politicians have. Politically acceptable wives are cold. Their best traits are sitting on the champagne to keep it cold....
6:30 PM. I’m making the top of the national news, but not for a reason I would have liked. Diane Sawyer is interviewing Amber. Amber looks quite put out. Not like she did that weekend we took off together. She’s telling Diane everything. Including my favourite sexual position. Amber, no! Not the naked Twister story!
8:00 PM. Bob and I are having a council of war. More like Bob is chewing me out for my complete lack of self control. How was I supposed to know this would happen? Besides, you were supposed to be the one who’d pay Amber some hush money. What do you mean, that’s not the way you work?
10:45 PM. Sitting in my office. Some staffers still outside. No trace of Bob, who seems to have really meant it when he quit. What a rotten day. Served with divorce papers, reputation in the gutter, and no doubt I’ll be turned into a punchline for the late night comics by this time tomorrow. And things were going so well too!
Oh well. Maybe it’ll be better in the morning. Maybe the voters are more forgiving of lapses of judgment than Isaballa is. Maybe someone will start a war somewhere and take the attention of the press off me. Maybe Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, or Britney Spears will get arrested, shave their heads, or run against me for the Senate. People would have to vote for me then...