If you watched last night’s State of the Union address then you know that Speaker of the House John Boehner was not enjoying himself. Looking down right grumpy, disinterested and disgusted, the embattled and combative Speaker didn’t even bother to employ a poker face. Boehner was barely even an active participant during the hour long speech- clapping half-hardheartedly only a handful of times and refusing to get up to salute the military, support equal pay for women and acknowledge a 100 year old Florida woman who waited six hours to vote.
Now while sitting next to Diamond Joe Biden, who was having the time of his life despite a bloody eye, probably didn’t help, Speaker Boehner looked at different times bored, disgusted, nauseated and aggravated.
Plain and simple, homeboy did not look happy to be there.
What goes through a person’s mind in a situation like that- in a situation where you must sit patiently and in theory, attentively, during something you adamantly object right from the jump? And with a camera on you the whole time no less.
Luckily Giddy Up America was able to find out.
That Joe McCoy sure ain’t no Buddy Garrity and his damn son ain’t no Matt Saracen. Man, I’d totally be watching Friday Night Lights right now if not for this nonsense. Get a move on, BO. Shit. I bet Crazy Joe over here is thinking the same thing.
No way the Indians should have given Michael Bourn four years. Three tops. Everyone knows speed doesn’t age well. That’s a questionable move at best.
Maybe a few tax breaks would get those hippies at the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame to finally induct Conway Twitty. Wait, is he already in there? No, that’s the country hall of fame. Well he should be in the rock ‘n roll one too. What good is all this bullshit if I can’t make something like that happen. I got you, CT. Wonder if anyone ever called him CT? You know, like I’m JB. JB and CT. It’s like we’re buddy cops or something.
Biden’s breath smells like tuna fish. And not the good kind. If I just smile, then no one will know the effin’ agony I’m going through. The smell of tuna’s burning my nostrils up worse than a Cantor bomb. Ha, Cantor Bombs. Little SoCo, hot sauce and pickle juice. Now that’ll put skin back on the tires.
Sean was right to send Tierra home. That chick was a train wreck. No one’s gonna steal my sparkle. That shit’s hilarious. I bet Des wins. Or AshLee. What’s with the capital “L?” Maybe I’ll start going by JoHn- you know, capitalize the “H.” Nah, that’d never play well in the midwest. I’ll stick with John, lower case “h.”
Don’t look at his eye. Don’t look at his eye. Don’t look at his eye. Think about something else, anything. Why can’t I stop looking? Look away JB, look away. It’s like the sun, can’t look away from the sun, can’t look away from Biden’s eye. It looks like tomato sauce.
Can’t stop thinking about Biden’s eye. Things like a bad horror movie or something. Night’s totally ruined now. Just wanna go home, eat some fruit rollups and call it a day.
Images from Associated Press, Huffington Post and Vanity Fair
Cover image by AP Photo/Charles Dharapak, Pool