Monday, May 23, 2011

I Actual Do Feel Kind of Sorry for Mr. Camping

I was going to live blog the rapture. Unfortunately, I had to lay around my house all day until like 5 when I realized we had to be at a graduation party at 6. So never mind. But here's how it probably would have gone:

5 pm. Waiting. I'm not sure what for. How will I know if it happens? We've already had a ton of flooding and earthquakes around here, that's probably not a reliable indicator. Who can I be on the phone with so if they disappear I'll know? I...don't think I know anyone like that.

5:15 pm. Nothing's happening here. Let's check the news for the east coast.

5:20 pm. Probably don't want to be on the road at 6...or on a plane. I bet it would be an awesome day to be a Christian magician, though. You would really disappear! Of course, you wouldn't be around to appreciate that so...maybe not.

5:22 pm. Some of these people are going to be in trouble if the end doesn't come. Some of these people gave away like all their money and stuff. Do you think they'll realize dude was wrong? Or will they think they got left behind? Maybe it will totally ruin their faith in God. This whole predicting the rapture thing seems pretty cruel, when you get right down to it.

5:23 pm. This is kind of boring me now.

5:24 pm. I wonder what happens to people's pets?

5:35 pm. Do you think I could just have someone's house or car after they're gone? I mean, is that stealing do you think? And does it really matter if I'm still here?

5:45 pm. Bored again. At least most of the tv shows I watch and musicians I listen to and authors I read will probably still be here.

6:10 pm. Life is pretty much still the same as it was before. I'm thinking there weren't as many actual Christians as people had always assumed.

Monday, May 9, 2011

29th Birthdays are Such a Cliche. Everyone Turns 29...OK, I Mean, Obviously, but...You Know What I Mean

First thing on Thursday morning (which was my 29th birthday. The first one) I received an e-mail from a friend. The e-mail contained pictures from a joint birthday party four years ago. In one photo I look like that chubby mouse in Cinderella. In another I look like a mentally challenged zombie, and in yet another I look like a pox addled donkey with a lazy eye. I think her intentions were good. On the other hand, it could be passive-aggressive shorthand for "You never call, you never write. And after all I do for you."

Cinderelly! Cinderelly!

I like to embarrass myself on my keeps me humble-ish.

My mom called to tell my happy birthday of course. We had the following conversation:

Mom: 29 years ago today I hadn't met you yet, but I got a phone call telling me you were born. I loved you before I even met you. I even loved you all those long months when you wouldn't sleep because of colic and all the years after that you refused to sleep at night or nap in the afternoon.

Me: Thanks, Mom, I love you too. And if you had let me stay up at least one night you probably never would have had trouble getting me to go to sleep again. I was thoroughly convinced you were waiting for me to go to sleep to have a lot of awesome fun.

Mom: I guess if your idea of awesome was watching Dallas and going to bed early, alone, then, yeah, it was awesome.

My mom has her issues, but sometimes you can see where I get my personality from.

My husband gave me the gift of wisdom in addition to the more important material gifts. One of which was wrapped in Christmas paper. The wisdom was this: Don't worry about it. You've been middle aged since you were 26 anyway.

It's okay. He was middle aged first. Although he likes to remind me that no matter wrinkled and craggy and gray he gets, people will describe him as rugged and/or distinguished. And no matter how awesome I look at 40, people will still describe me as old. There is a reason men have shorter life spans than women. The statement itself for one thing, but also the fact that he's probably right.

The dogs also got me a present. It is a dead bird. The pinhead caught it herself, and then they mangled it up really nicely before giving it to me. That's the fourth one this month. I think the birds are starting to give me the stink eye. If they start flinging themselves at the window and dive bombing me, I'm totally giving the dogs to them as an appeasatory sacrifice. Birds are fucking creepy y'all.