Good afternoon lubooly peoples
It’s only Tuesday.
That stinks.
I did something this weekend that, upon the mere mention of it, may cause some of you to hurriedly close your browsers and shudder so hard in awesome disappointment that you dislocate a vertebrae. Some of you who don’t shudder because it makes that armfat jiggle in a very uncute way, and nobody likes things that are uncute, will probably scour news websites searching for articles regarding unexplainable fires or spontaneous human combustion. There will be a small percentage who will actually be happy for me and send me numerous emails regarding my new found journey. Stuff those. I still don’t want to hear about that shit.
So I did it. I went to…ahem…church. And lo, mine body did not explode into flames. And – and this is the part that makes me shudder – I enjoyed every Goddy second of it. They hold the service in an art gallery that is connected to a coffee shop. Everyone was in t-shirts and flip flops. The sermon-giver guy was wearing jeans with a hole in the knee and he was funny. Told us all we were going to hell. :D I knew, then, that it was the place for me. I will probably go again next Sunday but don’t go getting all proud of me and shit because this could end at any second.
Know what sucks? My work figured out that I am a blogspot whore so now every time I go to visit a blogspot page, I get flagged for trying to look at “Sex” websites. This is why I haven’t been commenting…because I don’t want to get fired for looking at all of your perverted websites. Naughty, naughty folks. (Mine gets flagged for Sex too) However, I am able to write because the posting page is “blogger” as opposed to “blogspot” and I can read everyone through my lovely bloglines. If I comment, I will be doing it from home, but I am usually so sick of sitting in front of a computer all damn day, I’d rather pierce my bellybutton with a rusty awl. That didn’t make any sense did it? Once, when I was in high school, my best friend pierced her navel with a safety pin. It was not pretty. Especially when it got infected and her body remained in a perpetual L-shape for 6 weeks while it healed.
That stinks.
I did something this weekend that, upon the mere mention of it, may cause some of you to hurriedly close your browsers and shudder so hard in awesome disappointment that you dislocate a vertebrae. Some of you who don’t shudder because it makes that armfat jiggle in a very uncute way, and nobody likes things that are uncute, will probably scour news websites searching for articles regarding unexplainable fires or spontaneous human combustion. There will be a small percentage who will actually be happy for me and send me numerous emails regarding my new found journey. Stuff those. I still don’t want to hear about that shit.
So I did it. I went to…ahem…church. And lo, mine body did not explode into flames. And – and this is the part that makes me shudder – I enjoyed every Goddy second of it. They hold the service in an art gallery that is connected to a coffee shop. Everyone was in t-shirts and flip flops. The sermon-giver guy was wearing jeans with a hole in the knee and he was funny. Told us all we were going to hell. :D I knew, then, that it was the place for me. I will probably go again next Sunday but don’t go getting all proud of me and shit because this could end at any second.
Know what sucks? My work figured out that I am a blogspot whore so now every time I go to visit a blogspot page, I get flagged for trying to look at “Sex” websites. This is why I haven’t been commenting…because I don’t want to get fired for looking at all of your perverted websites. Naughty, naughty folks. (Mine gets flagged for Sex too) However, I am able to write because the posting page is “blogger” as opposed to “blogspot” and I can read everyone through my lovely bloglines. If I comment, I will be doing it from home, but I am usually so sick of sitting in front of a computer all damn day, I’d rather pierce my bellybutton with a rusty awl. That didn’t make any sense did it? Once, when I was in high school, my best friend pierced her navel with a safety pin. It was not pretty. Especially when it got infected and her body remained in a perpetual L-shape for 6 weeks while it healed.
posted by Crystal at 2:10 PM
7 Comments:
I'm just leaving a message because it's pathetic no one else likes you enough to do so.
Yeah, I get that church thing myself. At first, I felt a little weird, you know, growing up in a traditional choir-robe and organ church, but I really enjoy rock and roll church, as I call it. Cool.
And as for the pierced bellybutton - OOOOOWWWWWWW!
A cool church is a good thing. Enjoy.
Work sucks.
'Bout time :P
Oh and ge to work at work!
I need to go check for signs of the world coming to an end. I'm happy that you had a good time at a cool church.
You know, if you were to put me in a Catholic Mass it would freak me out as well. If I were not affiliated already with a church I'd like to be a Quaker. Then I could be in charge of raisins. It would totally be worth the hell of dealing with that task master Wilford Brimley. Let's not even get started on Oatmeal Man himself.
If the sermon-giver guy told you that you were going to hell, I don't think you were in church. Usually, the message changes to NOT going to hell if you've made it to an actual church.
When I was about 21, a (somewhat) devout Catholic friend I worked with took me to some middle-of-the-day Wednesday service (no, not Ash Wed) while we were at lunch. He just said, "Hey I need to run in here real quick". That turned into an hour.
Anyway, I walk into a huge crowd having never set foot in a Catholic church. We walk in just to the priest's left where everyone could see us. He dips his hand into the holy water and does the signing thing. So, of course, I do the same thing to not look out of place. Then, we get to another place and we kneel down on these little padded things on the floor. I'm thinking that these were our seats for the service. Next thing I know, he gets up and walks back to a seat and leaves me there. Turns out there is some sort of prayer or something you do before you're allowed to sit down. Later, he tells me "I should have prepared you for that." Me: "Yeah, ya think you sumbitch?"
I never went to lunch with him again, though.
As an avid church hater, I have to say flip flops, holey jeans and hell jokes sounds right about perfect.
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