When I am President of the Universe–I KNOW, RIGHT?

This isn't really me being President of the Universe. This is me being President of Ireland. Okay. Not really that either. This is me standing next to a Garda in Dublin. But look at how serious he is. Clearly he knows who I am.

Dearests:

You probably think you've seen this post before. You probably think I am recycling it because I am tired and my carpal tunnel hurts and my back won't let me sit down for more than 2 hours and I've already done that, and plus I need to go to bed. You are probably partly right. 

All that stuff is true. But what is also true is that I was cleaning up my blog and getting rid of pictures that I'm not totally sure are Public Domain, and I accidentally deleted several posts. Several. I don't know which ones. Except this one. I saw this one go.

Swear word.

So I called my hosting people and after much patience and hand holding I was able to get this post back. This. One.

Now I feel all celebratory and stuff. Plus all those other things in that first paragraph up there. So if you don't mind, and even if you do, I am re-posting what I will do when I am President of the Universe. And I think it is better the second time. Not to mention it being incredibly timely what with the elections coming up.

Thank you, O Kind and Patient Readers. May the Firth be with you. Force.

When I Am President of the Universe:

— There will be no hormones. None. Zero. Zip. Especially not in teenagers. Or pre-teens. Or post teens. And most especially not in pre-menopausal writer-blogger-moms. My husband is unanimous on this.

— We'll all be married to Colin Firth. And Colin Farrell. And Colin Egglesfield. And Colin Cunningham. All the Colins, really.

–Plus Hugh Jackman.

As long as he still fights robots, rides a motorcycle, wears coat tails, and growls everything he says.  Actually, I know nothing about these people, as I am happily married. Never mind.

— Publishers, eBook sellers, and the government will get out of each others' business and play nice. And real books will never go away. Plus bookstore presidents will build lovely new bookstores in every town, and they will all look like Dumbledore's office.

— Politicians will have to live every bill they pass, and if they can't play nicely with each other, they can't play at all. Also they will HAVE to tell the truth ALL the time. And if they screw that up they will pay for everyone to go on a trip to Fiji to get away from them. Out of their own retirement funds.

— Quidditch will become America's National Past Time, and there will, in fact, be a Quidditch World Cup.

— Hollywood actresses will have to weigh more than their diet coke to act in a film, and cellulite will get you into Disneyland.

— Everyone will hold hands and sing Kumbaya every night, and will agree to disagree, finding our differences fascinating and enlightening instead of ugly and terrifying. And there will be milkshakes.

— And finally, gestation will last for two weeks, at which time the baby will osmosis itself out of its mother, throw back an enriched immune-system boosting drink (which will not come from the mother's body, but the mother will gain and retain certain figure-enhancing properties that would occur if such a drink did come from her body), then the baby will thank her for everything she did for him/her/it, graduate from High School and go to college on a full-ride scholarship. The child will next get married and have grandchildren for the mother to cuddle. And it will crochet an afghan for her. All of which will happen within the first two weeks of life. Not sure how it's going to work, but you know, details, details.

Yeah. My universe will be awesome. You should totally vote for me.