A night-of recap of the exchange between Hillary Clinton and Donald J. Trump on September 26, 2016.

By @TotallyNotSarah

"Elmer Gantry was drunk. He was eloquently drunk, lovingly and pugnaciously drunk." 

I, however, am just plain drunk. Or as I affectionately justify it, #DebateDrunk.

The debates started at 9pm. I started drinking at 7:30. In total, I had almost three beers, but I am a lightweight who cannot hold her alcohol. 


Because, as a woman approaching her thirties, I can’t really handle the idea of a moldy golden raisin making decisions about my vagina and “bombing the hell” out of - oh, I don’t know - who was mean today?

So I approached these debates the same way as most of my peers - double fisting. (That’s an exaggeration. I was drinking beer with one hand and eating greasy Chinese food with the other. As it should be.) We watched on PBS, and before the debates even began I realized we all screwed up royally and we all should’ve voted for Gwen Ifill and Judy Woodruff for Prez/VP.

Boyfriend to the right of me, roommate across the room, cat pacing angrily demanding attention, the debates began. I made everyone promise not to heckle or yell anything during the debates so we could all watch it like mature adults.

I forgot that rule about three minutes in. Blame it on Oskar Blues. 

But I digress. Here are my yes-I’m-still-drunk takeaways.

I don’t think there can be winners in a debate when one of the candidates strolled in like, “Aw, fuck it. I’m just gonna yell a lot and see what happens.” Which, interestingly enough, was pretty much every other meeting I had at a company I used to work for. #Mansplain

The internet will take care of the rational, important parts of the debates for me. So we're going to talk about my personal hero of the day, Former Secretary of MF-in State, Hillary Rodham Clinton. I respect the hell out of her intelligence and career, but Queen shut it down in that red pants suit. You knew she was in it to win it when she threw on the Power Red Pants Suit of the Ages. 

Pair it with the Hillary Smirk. The “Hillary Smirk” was whenever Trump said, I don’t know, pretty much anything that was completely ludicrous/lying/lol-worthy and Ms. Clinton, being the classy HBIC just let the corners of her mouth flicker ever so slightly upwards. I need her to teach me how to do that because my “dude wtf r u even talking about rn” face needs some work. 

But on a serious "I’m either sobering up or about to fall asleep" note: To take hit after hit, and handle it with such ease. To stay cool while Mount Trump blew his top, interrupted her, and overall disrespected her is a feat worthy of note. To me, having respect for someone is far bigger and far more important than liking someone.

And goddamn, I respect that woman. A woman who has flaws, who completely fucked up on a national stage. A woman who, despite those huge fuck ups, is the first woman to ever take part in a Presidential Debate. And she did it with her head held high, her shots above the belt, and let’s be honest, a dash of bemusement.