11:22 AM: For the second time in as many mornings I wake up on the floor of Ann Coulter’s hotel room, the phrase “Jooos for Bush” scrawled across my forehead in Clinique Berry Berry Long Last lipstick. Ann has already taken off for some Phyllis Schlafly presentation, but she leaves me the crumbled dregs of her Continental breakfast, which I pass up for a bite-size Milky Way bar and a pot of black coffee.
On the way over to the Garden—still a little drunk—I run into TalkLeft’s Jeralyn Merritt, who’s been covering the convention as part of “The Tank,” a collective of left-leaning blogs.
"Wow, you look like shit,” she says. “And what’s that on your head?—is that blood?”
"Yes. Blood,” I tell her. “One more Purple Heart and my handlers tell me I can go home.”
"That’s not funny at all,” she says, and stalks off—a length of toilet paper trailing from the heel of one of her flats.
Friday, September 03, 2004
Posted by Mark at Friday, September 03, 2004