AKRON, OHIO — An embarrassingly stupid diary is already making the rounds at the Republican National Convention.
Don’t get me wrong — a campaign diary is a solid undertaking if you’ve got dirty details involving temper tantrums, sex and slime.
But arranging hotel rooms? Pushing the snooze button? Feeding a fish? Announcing the lipstick in your handbag?
Who thought up what is possibly going to simultaneously be the greatest and worst part of our week?
She’s a 24-year-old campaign staffer with a diary. Her name: Cameron Dorsey, a fresh-faced manager of housing data for the convention who wrote a detailed account of a day in her life for Refinery29.com. She looks like a cow-milking farm girl — a blue-eyed blonde with clear skin who wants to share what it’s REALLY LIKE to “put on one of the biggest political events of the year.”
“Keeping a daily journal really puts my life into perspective,” she writes.
But she has a menacing warning: Working on the RNC is not always glamorous.
Please, dear God, let’s hope this means scandal.
“It’s a lot of long hours, cheap pizzas, and even cheaper beers,” she writes. “…In reality, this is just a temporary stepping-stone in my life; it is petrifying, but damn exhilarating.”
Petrifying? Please don’t get our hopes up, Cam.
At 7:35 a.m. and 7:40 a.m. respectively, she hits the snooze button on her alarm clock. At 7:40 a.m. she plans her outfit that includes “fun” red heels. By 7:42 a.m. she has slathered on her BB cream (for the men out there with no concept of face creams, this is a concoction that blurs the imperfections on your skin. I’m going to go ahead and assume Dorsey has few of those). By 8 a.m. she’s out the door but makes readers breathe a sigh of relief when she explains that she has a 30-minute walk that she does not do in those “fun” red heels. She has spare sandals for that.
“Some in Cleveland think it’s pretty cool and this is a great way to reach millennial and women voters,” a source told The Mirror on condition of anonymity. “Others find it embarrassing and think the staffer should be decoupled from the event (but then how would convention goers find the Holiday Inn in Strongsville?). If Republicans lose in November, this kind of idiotic garbage is (beyond The Crazy Donald Show) is part of the reason.”
My observer wasn’t done venting. “Toxic combo of laziness and stupidly runs deep in my party. Abe Lincoln, Reagan and Teddy Roosevelt spinning in graves.”
Cam’s diary gets so embarrassing that I shudder to share more details with you.
But fine. We’ve made it this far. I want to crawl under my bed, but I am going to force myself to read this thing until the bitter end.
Next up: the contents of Cam’s bag. Two noteworthy items: 1. Sandwash Pink Bobbi Brown lipstick, which she explains is the hue worn by Kate Middleton at her wedding. 2. A blank thank you note (because “you never know who you may run into!”)
There are gobs of mindless entries about her day.
By this point I’m fully engaged in the most inane feature of this convention: this diary. And now I need to know everything. She drinks her coffee black. She has 5 different inboxes and does a victory dance if she receives less than 40 emails. By 10:30 a.m. she has written an email to the entire convention staff — 240 people — that entails what’s for lunch and hopefully one of her irresistible puns.
At 11:15 a.m. she spends a half hour feeding a fish named after an ex-V.P.
At 11:45 a.m. she takes a half hour to write her “gal pals” about what they should eat for lunch. The grueling choices include sushi, salad and Pho.
By 12:15 p.m. she admits that she “nailed down” her boyfriend at the convention.
Afternoon comes and she spends a half hour job searching on LinkedIn followed by convention scrapbooking and yes, eventually doing her job, which is assigning hotel rooms for convention guests. Don’t be fooled — this can be a major pain in the ass, especially if you’re off by even one room in the daily audit.
Unfortunately this diary is not going to be a daily offering.
Hopefully the powers that be will change their minds.
After all, this is convention gold.
Note to readers: The above photograph is not the author of the diary but a depiction of this minor RNC disaster.