Nails / Obama / Memories of the Obama campaign.

I was at the black neighborhood bar again last night. I played Ciara's "1, 2 Step" on the jukebox, as well as that one song where the guy goes, "I want to put you to bed/ to bed/ to bed" (the #7 most-played song at the place according to the jukebox stats, by the way!). When the Ciara came on, this round black girl at the bar started swaying in her seat back and forth and snapping her fingers and mouthing the lyrics. Later, her friend with the big tits went up to the jukebox and swayed back and forth and pressed selections on the touch-screen with these long, long hot pink fingernails that clicked against the screen as she touched it.

This morning at school I passed by a soda machine that had a piece of paper on it that said "Do not use this machine to make change," and underneath that someone had written, "No, use OBAMA!"

Yesterday I was thinking about how when I went to this one door in Gary when I was campaigning with my neighbor before the Indiana primary, I got this one middle-aged black guy at the door who was an Obama supporter, and the entire time I talked to him this sullen high schooler with gangster pants and a sports jersey and his hair tied up in a bandana who I assumed was his son stood there behind his dad sullenly, and at the end of the conversation I asked if he was a voter too, and he said no, but his face lit up when I recognized him being there -- at the end of the day, the kid was just a high school kid trying to be cool, and actually looking for attention, and was happy to be recognized by this almost-30 white guy who came to his family's door in an official capacity for the Obama campaign. It gives you a different perspective on some of the gang-banger looking young black males you sometimes see on the street.