Anarchy

Family vacation was in Washington, DC this year. I was pretty stoked, and I have to say, that overall, it was a pretty fab vacation. I got to see lots of crap that I had previously only seen in movies, and best of all, I got to see Skinny Jenny, who just happens to be one of my bestest friends in the whole wide world! And I'm not just saying that because she's privy to just about all the sinful things I did in college. NO! Even if she didn't know enough about me to blackmail me, she would still totally be one of my besties. I swear.

Anywhoodle, I must admit here, dear readers, that a trip to our nation's capitol has left me feeling a little less patriotic than when I left. I realize that this is probably the opposite reaction of most people, but let me explain:

So, my mother manages to get us a White House tour, which, by most accounts are pretty effing hard to get. I am soooo excited. I mean, say what you want about America and our President, but what girl wouldn't get excited about getting to see decadently decorated rooms with fabulous furniture and fantasize about Jackie O holding proper-but-still-somehow-edgy tea parties?????

In order to be "cleared" for your White House tour, you have to give the White House people everything short of your first-born child: your social security number, driver's license number, birth certificate something or another, and heaven knows what else. Such disclosure of information led me to believe that this was going to be a kick-ass tour. I mean, why would a tour be so hard to get if it wasn't kick-ass, right??

Now, you are not allowed to bring ANYTHING into the White House. You can't even leave a backpack with the security desk. That means that I had to leave my water bottle, moisturizer, ibuprofen, AND lipgloss at the hotel. Again, I think, "Man, this tour is going to be the TOUR OF ALL TOURS!! I can't wait."

Turns out, I could wait.

We get there at our designated time, show them our IDs, go through security, and proceed on to the White House. Being the stupid tourists that we are, we wait at what we think is the lobby, waiting for someone to show us around, but no one comes. Tentatively, we proceed down a hallway, and up a staircase, still thinking that there will eventually be a tour guide. We mill about and view two ornately decorated rooms that we can't actually go in to, because they're roped off. The people in front of us keep walking forward, so we follow.

In a minute we figure out, that like Godot, our tour guide is never coming. We follow the roped-off pathway through a "Green Room," a "Red Room," and something else that is cleverly named for the color of the walls. Then, we land outside. At this point, we look at each other for a few seconds, all bewildered. "Is this it?" We all ask. We notice some people leaving.

Again, bewildered, we furrow our brows, look around, and look at each other.

"That was some bullsh!t," I eloquently state.

Well, we were all thinking it!

I swear upon my entire shoe collection that the entire "White House Tour" took us all of 10 minutes... and we took our time!!!!

Can you believe it???!!! I HAD TO GIVE UP MY BACKPACK!!!! And for what, I ask. For what?! To see a bunch of fancy rooms?!!! Well, no thanks, America!! I'll take my lipgloss over a craptastic 10 minute tour any day!!!!

That's right, Mr. President. You heard me! Your house sucks. And my lips haven't fully recovered from the moisture deprivation!!!

Now, I'm not saying that I'll be the cause of a huge uprising or anything like that...but what about the uprising in my heart, Mr. President?? Huh? What about that?

If America ever asks me to give up my lipgloss again, I'm moving to Canada. Or even worse: France.