Who would ever want to be king?

Isn't life just one big popularity contest?

I mean, seriously. Most of the time, aren't the rich and famous the very same rich and famous of grades nine to twelve? The same people you hated since they didn't ride the bus, scored the best dates to Homecoming and never shopped for clothes in stores outside of a mall? They never had curfews and went to the beach after Prom.

Yeah, those people.

I was, um, never one of those people.

I wasn't a total social reject either. I made good grades, was not a good athlete and, OK, was a complete goody-goody. I wasn't a nerd exactly. I just toed the line. Played by the rules. Lived life to the fullest of my conservative, curfew-bound existence.

I was popular enough to make it to the first round in Homecoming Queen elections my senior year. (Yes, I was only one of three girls in my homeroom - don't ruin it for me.)

And, once, I ran for class secretary - and won. That was my junior year and I think I even surprised myself with that experience. I was the underdog, the dark horse, the renegade candidate, the only girl running for office who sat in honors classes and talked more about Bronte and barometric pressure than beer and boyfriends.

So, I ran for re-election at the start of my senior year. I lost. And like any good John Hughes movie, of course it was to a football player.

I remember the day we candidates made our campaign speeches over the PA system during afternoon announcements. I ended my well-written, well-rehearsed diatribe on why I would help raise loads of money for a fantastic senior prom. Then Matt H. stepped up to the mic.

"Hey, yeah, everybody. Matt H., here. And I'm running for secretary. Dudes, you gotta vote for me. You know I'll do a good job. And we are totally going to, you know, have the most awesome prom ever. I'll make sure of it. I know I can do a better job than she can. So, yeah, vote for me!"

So, yeah, dudes, Matt H. won. Can you blame me if that experience soured me on the electoral process?

I've seen U.S. presidential candidates come and go. They talk economics, they talk war, they talk election reform, they talk about the environment. They make promises they can't keep, and disappoint us with higher taxes and lower standards for health care and education. It doesn't matter what party they belong to - it's all the same.

I sound about as positive as the kid sitting at the nerd table during lunch sophomore year, right? What I want to know is, would Barack Obama have been sitting next to me, sharing my pizza and fries while John McCain sat with the jocks and threw lunch trash my direction? We all know what table Sarah Palin was sitting at - the one with the rest of the Barbies picking out her date for Friday night from a long list of pathetic admirers. And Joe Biden, well, he didn't go to that school. He was down the street at Our Lady of Perpetual Help, hiding from the nuns while he smoked a cigarette when he should have been in confession.

Do people change? I don't think so. I heard that Matt H. is a preacher somewhere in East Texas. I can only imagine the start of every sermon: "Dudes, let's pray. I'm going to make sure you get to heaven because it's, you know, the most awesome place ever."

We carry our experiences along into whatever we do, be it president or personal trainer. So, yeah, I need to do some research. When I get in the voting booth, I'm casting my ballot for the underdog, the dark horse, that renegade candidate. The nerd. The one who was smacked with a Coke can during a food fight at lunch in tenth grade and lived to tell about it. I want to know if rising to the top over such humble beginnings is really worth it in the end.

Then he can really tell me, honestly, if it's good to be king. And I'll believe him.

I wouldn't want to be king, I know that. OK, maybe the king of Candy Land. Yum.