Wishing all of you the happiest of holidays! May your cookies be sugary and your cocoa be warm. Lots of love from me to you! Heart emoji.
Whiteside was injured during the playoffs- wants max money for immaturity and injuries. Also his home all packed up on Snapchat. Full of boxes.
— SARAH RAMSINGH (@SarahRamsingh) June 3, 2016
Bradley Beal get 3 million, KD getting a billion. Hell, I might be able to finesse million from a team
— Cherchez La Femme (@FrankieVtotheD) July 1, 2016
Biggest NBA trade/sign so far Jeff Teague to Pacers. Joakim Noah signing w/ Knicks tomorrow 2nd- er today. Hometown NY & bff Rose.
In four minutes NBA Free Agency starts and since I’ll be up a good portion of the night- I got you covered.
I never assumed I’d never miss sleep again after school. It was just a happy thought I rewarded myself with at graduation.
While this half of the hemisphere gets ready for bed, on last day before the fourth of July holiday weekend, I am buried under work. Saturn sized work. In a effort to stay awake, not google 40 foot bridges, and train tracks, I bring you a live blog. Maybe you have to stay awake too. Maybe you have a small child crying and you need entertainment. Or maybe you want to laugh at an Indian girl who thought all-nighters ended after college but she saw that dream die years ago.
Come tag along. I’ll make you a good cup of coffee.
First off, I want to say I’m sorry. Sorry because for me it’s political Christmas. We’re half way to an election year and goody goody gum drops, is it exciting!
A little background, the first election I ever worked on was John Kerry’s. It was 2004. NBC was the first network to livestream on election night. The popular vote said he only lost by less than 4,000 votes. But that entire night, as precinct after precinct closed, no one was at 270. I remember it was four o’clock in the morning. I had happily eaten 2 boxes on Dunkin Donuts. I was steadily working on three. I can’t count how many gallons of coffee. On a normal day it’s eight cups. Come stressful times multiply that to infinity and beyond. All I know is we had three admins working the phones and the coffee makers. On election night we had two dedicated to the caffeine stations. They’re the real MVPs.
The whole time I proofing speeches and running data. Lots of number. Lots of charts. Lots of what ifs. At eleven that night the our campaign director, Mary Beth Cahil, runs over to my desk. “I’m giving Jason all the speeches. I need double counts on each battle ground and the briefs!” She was calling for the exit data out of the battle ground states and legally were we able to challenge.
This is my first campaign, it’s not even midnight, and the dream of the after party died at nine.
Then came the lawyers. Two-twenty hits my digital watch. At this point box number three of donuts is sitting on my large rectangle table. I’m trying to ignore it but Jenny , our admin, has lovingly placed a note, “For Sarah only by order of Mary Beth.” She meant business. The sugar and coffee was suppose to keep me going through the night. There was also two extra large veggie pizzas from Dominos at the farther end of the table. None of this food survived to see sunlight.
About twenty minutes after my second Bavarian donut from box number three, five lawyers from the DNC calmly walk into my office. There were handshakes. They also came with two bags of PF Changs. My charts were worth at least four, but I never complained. All par of the course in this business. They were pouring over my data to see how close it really was between Kerry and Bush. Especially in key states, like my home in Florida. The Orlando corridor, the margins were as small as a few hundred. Demanding a recount was in their favor. This is the presidency we’re talking about not loosing change in a vending machine. Michigan, Iowa, Florida, and Wisconsin all polled tight.
This was the election were we learned about the hanging chad, the pregnant chad, and why using paper and humans in an election was about the dumbest thing in the entire world is is certainly why the aliens refuse to acknowledge us. That is still my firm belief. I will not back down from it. Ever.
The next morning we did not have a president. The recounts were pouring in. I never forgave the third party voters. When elections are tight you play to win. They played for Bush. They squandered votes for Ralph Nader. I have no principle problem with that except that it’s meaningless. Why not vote for real change instead of fairy tales?
So what’s the point of this post? Essentially to say sorry. Sorry for all political tweets. Now you know why. Part of my background beyond tech and finance ties right into who will call the White House home. So thanks for bearing with me. Only twelve more months to go!
Indian girl posts iconic picture of two comic powerhouses, internet can’t stop crying.
“We’re losing all the funny ones! All the funny ones!”
Her facts have been verified. The funny ones are dead.
“Joan did us a public service. Just because you get to wear a ballerina dress to an awards show, doesn’t make it a good idea. She was the voice of the people. Just because a designer pushes orange, does not make you Punky Brewster.”
The Indian girl slammed down her drink. “I’m still getting over Robin Williams! If one more person shares the genie picture- just do it. It’s too much for me. We never did find a friend like him.”
That fact has also been verified. No one comes close to the genie. The Indian girl did say her cat was first runner up.
“Robin was Mork, then the genie, then our favorite teacher. He was the greatest housekeeper. When he became a creepy photo lab guy, and a rogue DJ, I loved him most- he could be anybody.”
Indian girl has refilled her water glass. “And now Joan. Who are we left with? Amy Schumer?! That joke isn’t even funny.”
“I remember her on Carson. When she use to sit at the desk. I had one of those Casio microphones. I pretended I was her. It was so cool to see her up there. So powerful. I use to run around the house and imitate her and Lucille Ball.”
Her great aunt in India has confirmed that she use to copy both women. “No, Sarah wasn’t as funny,” her aunt added. “But yes, the re-enactments are true.”
Hey guys! Just wanted to say hi! I am going to see 22 Jump Street tonight and just wanted to catch you all up on some upcoming videos and also had a tiny favor to ask you. You don’t have to though- but it costs you nothing! Let me know what your plans are tonight and what’s for dinner. I iz hungry!
Favor: Please check out Skiitz!
Spring in New York City is a tease. One day it’s a gorgeous sixty degrees, the next it’s twenty-two with freezing rain. You want a real dystopian drama, try planning spring break around the bipolarity that is still winter to my body.
I was going to head down to Atlantic City, but do I really want to throw money at a state that shuts down bridges and is passing laws to keep out Tesla? Nah.
I found a real jem in Fire Island. It reminds me of Miami. It’s warm and beachy and it makes me feel as though I’m not so far away. As long as there’s no snow, expect much more Fire Island adventures.
I use to love Friday night’s best. Friday nights meant liquor. All types of liquor. Sweet liquor. Sour beers. Flat wines. I still love Friday nights. I like going outside and seeing humanity. I like going to Jazz bars and watching musicians and talking to people who don’t stare at screens all day. I love being at the comedy club and watching my senior comedians drink and drink and drink and rewrite their comedy notes. I love it. I live for it. One drink in my carb free stomach and I walk funny. It is it’s own comedy routine.
Now, though, I live for Sunday mornings. I live to do nothing. No alarms going off, no calendars popping up. A morning full of nothing. I refuse to run errands-I’ll pack that in to an already crowded Monday. I will not be that person at the grocery store getting run over by a woman with a triple wide stroller.
I just want to lay in bed until the afternoon when some sporting events will automatically matriculate to my screen. I like remember what my bed feels like. I like knowing that my coffee doesn’t have to be in a travel mug. Don’t get me wrong- I love my life. I love being busy. I thrive on it. If I have nothing to do for too long, I get nervous. I will find something-but those hours on Sunday morning, before it turns to night, are precious.
Here’s to doing nothing.
In the Ramsingh tradition of not cooking every single thing on the morning of Thanksgiving, I started cooking today. Stuffing, roasted potatoes, and macaroni and cheese pie. I couldn’t wait for these lovelies. I never can, and so it begins…
If I look chunkier in my next video, you know what happened.