I get home at around 4:25 p.m. (left early that day so I could head out to vote earlier--it gets dark here quick now)

I see by my "secret" GPS program that Chef had been home for over an hour before me and cooking dinner (which I must give credit where credit is due; it was one of the best roast chickens I have ever had).

He was also tying one on as usual. And yes, he drinks and drives. He asks me if I want a "beer for the road" (on the way to the polls) I say "no thanks."

We park and Chef immediately bolts out of the van and strides several steps AHEAD of me (as usual) to the polling place.

We get to the registry desk for our district. The three election people get out their registry books and I let Chef go first. They look up his name. By now Chef is definitely "under the influence" but is a high functioning alcoholic since his tolerance is quite high. He quasi lectures the election people about voter IDs and how there should be a voter ID law in NYS. I agree but it was neither the time, nor the place.

Chef sits down with his ballot. The election people try looking my name up under his surname; I quickly remind him that we are not married and don't have the same last names. "Oh!"

The election guy looked almost relieved as if to say "how can you possibly be married to an ASS like that?"

I get my ballot and am done like in 10 seconds. Chef is still messing around. I submit my ballot. Chef gets up and submits his ballot. . .

The red REJECT light goes off and one of the election people come over to assist. I advise Chef to reject and re-check his ballot. Sure enough Chef blew it. He has voted with these machines before but since he has gotten himself worked up to a frenzy over the elections and the fact that he was under the influence caused him to be careless and botch it. By not reading the instruction in the last column.

It said "pick any two in this column" Instead Chef picked the same guy in two ROWS.

Chef then casted his ballot again anyway.

As we were leaving, Chef tried to tell me that the row he voted for was superior to mine (not knowing the electoral process and how the "rows" work. . .OBVIOUSLY)

As he pulls out of the parking space, Chef jumps the curb on my side (end spot) and excuses it as "political ire" as opposed to being embarrassed about the epic vote fail and the booze.

(eyeroll)