Finally got over the hump with that horrible disgustingness I suppose they call a sinus infection. Pro tip: if you’re miserable, go to the doctor. Sooner than later. Also, maybe stay home and lay on the couch for a day…or two. Definitely don’t go on a four-day business trip driving through mountains (POP, EARDRUM, JUST POP…wait…OW) with basically zero down time and no hotel reservations and wow that was SO much fun, especially that night in the dry county with the 10% discount off dinner at the truck stop! Otherwise you end up at an Urgent Care on a Saturday morning after two weeks on Sudafed with the doctor who pretty much thinks you’re crazy and no, it’s not H1N1 you big baby, here’s a Z-pack (I’ll leave it at your discretion whether you want to take it or not. So helpful.) and some $60 nasal spray and wow, your blood pressure is pretty high. I see you just turned thirty, don’t you want to live to see forty? You know, blood pressure is the silent killer. So that guy’s like my FAVORITE. [But shit, note to self – have that checked again like the good doctor said, maybe once not wound tighter than a new spool of thread. And maybe find a GP with an actual, you know, PRACTICE.]
So yeah, that happened. The turning thirty thing. I suppose if I were drinking wine rather than coffee I might write some mushy sentimental thing about what I want to do with my next thirty years and reflect back over the last thirty years, but…meh. Who wants to read that?
The same people patient enough to read silly rants about sickness I promised myself I wasn’t going to write. Oops. I was still rather feverish, so there are parts I totally don’t remember at all, but we did go celebrate a bit – saw the eminent Jim Gaffigan, bacon and hotpocket encore and all:
Much funnier than the fact we missed probably the first 20 minutes because the parking garage next to the theater kept letting people in even though all the empty spaces were marked RESERVED 24 HOURS so we all just drove allllll the way to the top and then back down at a snails pace, everyone honking and WTFing. Good times. I didn’t hear about a riot, but I must admit it’s a pretty good racket – we still had to pay three or five bucks or something to exit the effing thing. If there was an attendant at some point, he or she probably ran screaming into the hills.
Speaking of Jesus…what. the. fuck (via suntzusays), Pope ? You disgust me. Obviously I’ve a bit of an axe to grind with the church, but this shit never fails to blow my mind. THREE DAYS AGO? Okay, longer ago than that now…but seriously. SERIOUSLY? It’s as if this stuff has been falling out of the closet so long now people are just numb to it. It’s background noise. Or maybe I’m just a disloyal person – there’s NO WAY IN HELL I’d ever baptize my [future theoretical] children into that. No matter what. Other money quote from the NYT article:
But she also said it was time that the church stopped hiding abuse cases and questioned why priests seemed to be held to a less strict standard of morality than ordinary parishioners. “If you get divorced and remarry you can’t take communion, but someone convicted of molesting children can celebrate Mass for the rest of his life,” she said.
I’ve waffled a bit on the baptism thing in my own mind over time. Five years ago, I might have said, ehhh, let’s just keep Dad happy. Even a year ago, maybe, but now? No way. Never. It must be the CASA work. That’s the other thing that’s got me all wound up and nursing a broken heart for people I barely know. Living with your kids in your uncle’s house, who used to molest his own kids? Bad idea. Smoking crack? Bad idea. Sending your kids to visit with their father, your abusive ex-husband who indicated deception on a polygraph regarding molesting one of your kids? BAD IDEA. Your kids are beautiful and innocent, even filthy and lice-ridden and probably all stripped of their innocence long ago, by someone they were taught to trust, someone they should have been able to trust. I know on some level, you love them and would do anything for them. Find the level, I beg thee. They like to read. You know what might be really nice? TAKE THEM TO THE LIBRARY. IT’S FREE. I’m sorry – am I making this sound too easy? Maybe I have no clue because I’m not a parent, but I am SO frustrated by this one. Heartbroken. I gotta go buy some books. And crank this, because I have been far too sympathetic.
I don’t want to be hostile.
I don’t want to be dismal.
But I don’t want to rot in an apathetic existence either.
See I want to believe you,
and I want to trust
and I want to have faith to put away the dagger.
But you lie, cheat, and steal.
And yet I tolerate you.
Veil of virtue hung to hide your method
while I smile and laugh and dance
and sing your praise and glory.
Shroud of virtue hung to mask your stigma
as I smile and laugh and dance
and sing your glory
lie, cheat, and steal.
How can I tolerate you.
Our guilt,our blame ,
I’ve been far too sympathetic.
Our blood, our fault.
I’ve been far too sympathetic.
I am not innocent.
You are not innocent.
Noone is innocent.