Al Gore's Diary:
Nov. 4 -- Ohhhhhh . . . my head is pounding. Got a major-league hangover. The victory party last night was completely out of control. Clinton was mixing pitcher after pitcher of kamikazes. I was happy sipping an Amstel Light and talking about chlorofluorocarbons and the ozone layer with Ron Brown. Then Bill stumbled over and got me in a headlock and shrieked: "When Bill Clinton drinks, everybody drinks!"
The next thing I know, Herve Villechez is sitting on my lap and everyone's throwing confetti and screaming: "Ze plane! Ze plane!"
God, it was awful! Tipper says she hasn't seen anything like that since the keg party days at college.
Nov. 5 -- Someone kicked in the bedroom door at 5:30 this morning and in barged Clinton and five Secret Service agents, all dressed in sweatsuits. Tipper pulled the blankets around her and started screaming like they just escaped from San Quentin.
"Get up!" Bill barked. 'We're going jogging."
I said: "Bill, for God's sake, the sun isn't even . . . "
"I don't like this any better than you do," he said, peering out the window. "But we gotta make it look good for the photographers."
So we went out jogging in the rain and I nearly got hit by a bus. Is this what the next four years is gonna be like? Because if it is, I want out right now.
Nov. 8 -- Practiced standing very still in front of a mirror and staring admiringly at a picture of Bill taped to the wall.
I thought I stood real still at his first post-election news conference. But Bill said the videotapes showed me brushing my hair from my forehead at one point. Apparently, I also took my eyes off him once or twice to look out at the press.
Tipper says to look on the bright side, that I can always get a job as a department store mannequin when I'm out of politics.
Nov. 10 -- Dan Quayle called this morning. He was bawling like a baby. Said he can't bear the thought of stepping down as VP, that he'll probably wind up working in a Rite-Aid, stocking the shelves with Mylanta.
He said being VP is the easiest gig in the world. All you do every day is put on a dark suit and check the obits to see what world leader died. Then you jump on a plane, say a few prayers in front of the stiff's coffin, and it's back to the Cairo Hilton or wherever for cocktails and dinner.
Quayle said if they ever advertised the VP's job in the Help Wanted ads, there'd be so many applicants you'd have to beat them off with fire hoses and attack dogs.
Nov. 13 -- This is getting ridiculous. Bill barged in at 5:15 this morning and had the Secret Service guys pull me out of bed. Tipper started screaming again and Bill told her to shut her yap, that we were just going jogging.
For the record, I was against this whole idea of living at the governor's mansion in the first place, transition period or no transition period.
Nov. 16 -- Finally got up the nerve to ask Bill what he uses on his hair. I mean, it never moves! Turns out it's a secret substance that's one part Wildroot to three parts Rustoleum. But he's thinking of switching to an industrial-strength shellac used for gymnasium floors.
Nov. 20 -- I . . . I don't know how much more of this I can take. Someone's shaking me at 4:30 in the morning and I look up and it's Bill. C'mon, he says, we gotta go for a jog. Ted Koppel and his camera crew are outside.
Thank God Tipper didn't wake up. Or maybe she did, but at least she didn't scream. Bill was right -- that duct tape over her mouth works real well.
Nov. 24 -- Bill caught me jabbing Socks the cat with the fireplace poker again. He said he was "disappointed" in me.
I told him I've been under a lot of stress lately. Mainly from lack of sleep -- someone keeps bursting into my bedroom at dawn and dragging me out to go jogging.
Nov. 26 -- We all sat down to Thanksgiving dinner together, although God knows what I have to be thankful for in this nut house. Chelsea caused a big scene, whining about how she wouldn't eat any dark meat and then kicking the maid.
I'm telling you, this kid is gonna make Amy Carter look like Shirley Temple. I hope Bill and Hillary aren't surprised when her head starts spinning 360 degrees and she floats up to the ceiling.
That's it -- I gotta get out of Little Rock. What a hick town. I swear the cars still have running boards. Someone told me "The Jack Paar Show" is the top-rated TV program.
Although it's getting pushed hard by "The Mod Squad."