Pack up the Clamdiggers

And I’m not talking about the girls. We’re going to the beach! Martha’s Vineyard. MO and BO haven’t been around that many country club Republicans since they had dinner with Colin Powell and Arlen Specter.

I can’t wait to get back to imaging Lady M in her casual J.Crew style. Although I’m a little concerned about there being a 24 hour ice cream parlor within walking distance. It’s getting increasingly difficult for my lens to refract away those nasty preggers rumors . And we’re going to be there a whole month!

I mean, I’m good, but is any trans-imaging technology adequate to compensate for 4 weeks of Lobsters dripping in butter, caviar with crème fraîche and blini and non-stop champagne and ice cream?!

This is supposed to be a vacation. I can already see that I’m going to be on 24/7 imaging. I haven’t had to work that hard since Lady M decided to exercise her 2nd Amendment rights.

Let Your Hair Down, Girl!

Ha, ha. I had you going on that new haircut thing didn’t I? Do you still doubt my reflective powers?

As you can see, that whole bob thing at Hee Haw night in the East Room was just a little ruse I pulled to see how it would fly. Consider it a hair poll. We’re still analyzing the results, especially the ones from LA.

While I thought I made her look amazing, there were a few of those catty comments that used MO and “matronly” in the same sentence. So for now, we’re back to the – well, the whatever. Goodbye MOB, hello MOp.

Designers Ball

Michelle had a few design icons over to nosh at the White House on Friday. There were a lot of guys here, but it was definitely a “ladies who lunch” affair. They served a lot of crap from MO’s organic salad generator out back. Women's Wear Daily captured it rather well:

First Lady Michelle Obama, draped in a bold yellow Michael Kors skirtsuit and shimmery lizard-skin pumps, feted design honorees at the White House today as part of the 10th anniversary of the Smithsonian’s Cooper-Hewitt National Design Awards. Obama …expounded on the multidimensional purposes of design, Calvin Klein designer Francisco Costa, winner of this year’s fashion design award, sat enraptured. “What I love about design is the artistic and scientific complexity that becomes useful — a laptop, a bridge, an outfit — all drawn from a thousand wells of inspiration yet grounded in the basic principles of math and science,” Obama said.

I liked that part about Francisco being “enraptured,” we sure do hear that a lot around here. The truth, though, is when MO started yammering about math and science every one was spellbound. I haven’t seen that many eyes glaze over since Nancy Reagan told Ronnie’s Chief of Staff that she wanted her astrologer to participate in the president’s daily scheduling.

More on MO’s hair, clothes and makeup later. Got to run to my 10:00 polishing.

Ode to an American Icon

Mirror, mirror on the wall

Who’s the “Jackie” at this ball?

It’s me of course, in my string of pearls,

Michelle’s the fairest of all first “girls.”

MOTUS, I love your hand polished glazing

Whatever I wear, it turns out amazing!

You make me appear lean, you make me svelt,

You make me look skinny in my Azzedine belt.

When I gaze fondly into your glass,

I love the way you shrink my ass.

A fashion icon could come undone

If she was seen with a big fat bum.

But thanks to you and the MSMedia,

I’m “fashion forward” in Wikipedia.

I Don’t Want To Hear Any More About the MOB in the White House. OK?

Yeah, Mo got a haircut. Don’t most women do that a couple of times a year? The way the MSM is carrying on you’d think she had a whole head transplant.

I should have remembered from the Bill and Hill years that this was, like, really, really big news. At least as important as the government taking over another 15% of the economy in the form of nationalized health care. But no, not even the prime time presser could shift all of the attention away from MO’s new do.

OK, I probably made her look a little too “Jackie” to be ignored entirely, but that was the look she was going for –sans the pill box. But to hear the MSM carry on! "All her own,” “fashion fresh,” “modern.” Look people, it’s a bob. Women have been wearing bobs since the roaring twenties, so can we at least get past that whole “fashion forward” thing?

I might sound a little cranky and ungrateful for all the fine press reviews. It’s just that I’ve been working really, really hard on making her look softer around the eyes, and not quite so, so…well, angry. And no one seems to appreciate what I’ve been able to do! Here, you judge for yourself:

Is that a miracle or what? Most women would need 6 rounds of Botox to pull that off, but MO needs nothing but little old me. But do we hear anything about how she looks younger, less scowly and waaay less angry?

Oh no, everyone’s too polite to mention that. All we hear is about the new haircut. They’re calling it the MOB: Michelle Obama Bob.

Do you really think it wise to slap that moniker on anything associated with the First Family?

Baseball Sucks Anyway

Enough about the “Mom” and “Dad” jeans.

Look, I’m here to make MO look good. BO’s got his own groomers and handlers. He has an entire contingent of lawyers, PR guys, communications experts, accountants and mathamagicians to make him look good in the eyes of the American people.

You would think that with all that hired help they could make him look like he belonged on a ball field. But no, they left that up to Albert Pujols, the Cardinal’s catcher, who stepped up to the plate and scooped the ball before it bounced.

I don’t know what happened. BO was throwing great when he was warming up in the Rose Garden. Maybe it was all those unexpected boos that rippled through the crowd when he came to the mound. I can understand how such unaccustomed negative feedback would throw him off his game. We don’t allow so much as a photo negative in the White House. But you didn’t hear that from me.

But getting back to the hired help: if they can’t buy the guy a pair of decent jeans and teach him how not to throw like a girl, don't look at me.

You can’t do everything with mirrors, you know.

Innocent Pawns

I just want to go on the record to make something perfectly clear: (that’s an old mirror joke). I had nothing to do with Malia’s choice of the Peacenik t-shirt in Rome and whatever inadvertent message it sent.

For starters, MOTUS never messes with the kids. Remember, my conception took place under the auspices of the Department of Defense and NASA. I have a strict code of ethics embedded between the polished glass and the silver/magnesium backing.

No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to trans, hyper or quantum image the kids. It’s strictly hands off. They’re just innocent little pawns.

Shopping the Appian Way

I can’t tell you how exciting it is to be a part of the Obama team. Ever since BO took office, I’ve been a part of Team Obama Entourage. I don’t flatter myself that it’s just because of my awesome powers of trans-imaging, although that’s why MO wants me aboard Air Force One every time she embarks.

No, I know that if it weren’t for the fact that BO has established a very special bond with TOTUS and needs to provide for his safe transit everywhere he goes, I would be left behind at the White House just like I always used to be.

But since they already have special luggage cases designed to transport delicate imaging equipment (TOTUS and I call them “RV’s”), I get to go along for the ride too.

Obviously there are a few glitches to be worked out. MO isn’t used to having me around while she’s on the road, so we’ve had a few slip ups. Like that little confusion about the purses last week while we were in Moscow: Drudge linked to a story at the stupid Daily Mirror about Madam O carrying a $6000 VBH designer handbag.

Silly me. I forgot to turn off my trans-imaging projector, and we even fooled the bag's creator! It really wasn’t their $6000 black lizard version. It was just the $900 black patent model! Wow, I’m beginning to feel the power.

Anyway, we had a similar slip up when we went shoe shopping in Rome. This one wasn’t really my fault though. MO really has to try to remember that even if I make her feet look like a size 8 slim, she really wears a size 13 wide.

Maybe from now on she’ll stop arguing with the shoe clerks and just try the damn things on.