I’m sitting in the bathroom (just don’t ask!) at Caldoni’s pizza and BBQ on MLK, where city council candidate Jeff Bissonnette is holding his election party. I’m drinking red wine on an empty stomach because I can’t eat a 12” pizza by myself, nor a salad that could hold a family of goats for a week. This place is family style, and I am here alone, something that I am acutely aware of as I stand among the 20-odd people who I am certain all know each other, and moreover, know Jeff. Personally. The biggest table is bullied with his supporters (including, I’m pretty sure, his wife, who if I’ve identified her correctly, is so at ease she’s wearing track pants), eating troughs of salad and great big pizzas, but the scene is way too intimate for me to feel comfortable sliding up for a slice. I feel like I just crashed Khaki McSandalson’s family reunion and they’re all wondering which one of their fuck up nephews dragged me in here. No, really, they all seem totally sweet and nice and progressive and everything, and when I get too annoyed with the TV with shitty rabbit ear reception that’s showing the incoming results (nothing on Jeff yet, except for what Amy’s got posted below) I just flip out the old iphone and get on BlogTown to remind myself that I have friends too. I’ll stick around to see if Jeff makes a speech, and maybe have another red wine to the head, then I’m going to go look for trouble and carbohydrates at John Branam’s…