Hi.

Remember me?

Well I’ve been as scarce as Mitt “Mitt” Romney lately because, unlike Mitt, I have a day job and also because of my lack of interest in anything going on these days (oh, you would like more talk about the ‘grand bargain’ and the ‘fiscal cliff’ on the internet? Really? That is why you have no friends). But enough about me, what has been going on with Presidential first runner-up Mitt Romney these days?

Nada mucho, as they say in La Jolla when the help asks what are the chances of getting a raise:

Mitt Romney looks out the windows of his beach house here in La Jolla, a moneyed and pristine enclave of San Diego, at noisy construction workers fixing up his next-door neighbor’s home, sending regular updates on the renovation. He devours news from 2,600 miles away in Washington about the “fiscal cliff” negotiations, shaking his head and wondering what if.

Gone are the minute-by-minute schedules and the swarm of Secret Service agents. There’s no aide to make his peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Romney hangs around the house, sometimes alone, pecking away at his iPad and e-mailing his CEO buddies, who’ve been swooping in and out of La Jolla to visit. He wrote to one who’s having a liver transplant soon: “I’ll change your bedpan, take you back and forth to treatment.”

It’s not what Romney imagined he would be doing as the new year approaches.

So what is former Romney campaign “secret weapon” Ann Romney doing  while Mitt spends his desultory mornings porn-surfing, sending racist Obama emails to his CEO buddies, and keeping an eye out for hop-heads and dope-fiends attempting to “toke” marijuana reefers on his beach?

Well, Ann haz a sad:

By all accounts, the past month has been most difficult on Romney’s wife, Ann, who friends said believed up until the end that ascending to the White House was their destiny. They said she has been crying in private and trying to get back to riding her horses.

This makes me sad. Also. Too.

Mitt and Ann are in the prime of their lives and they should be spending quality time with each other; maybe sitting in His and Hers tubs, holding hands and watching the sun go down like all those couples do in those boner commercials. And, according to those very same commercials, these seemingly endless days could  potentially be broken down into four-hour sessions of, as Mitt and Ann like to call it: “Riding Rafalca to Olympic Gold“, if you know what they mean and I think you’d rather that you didn’t….

That will certainly put a smile on her face and a burr in her saddle if you know what I mean and I think you do  etc etc etc ick-o.