I strangely find myself with way too much free time at work today and nothing to write about. I’m days ahead on the old bloggity blog here, which is good – this week’s going to kick my ass, time-wise – but I have no topics! No topics at all. What will a person talk about. Listen, I wrote THREE BLOG POSTS yesterday. THREE! That’s like seven straight hours of writing. Well, not straight. I stood up sometimes and did other things. Bought some clothes. Walked around a little. Went over and paid the rent. Spent a little time with Dumbcat. But mostly, typing until my fingers almost fell off. Whoo!
I have some Dad conversations for you. I think you’ll enjoy. You like such things, right? Sure you do.
Oh, some background: so Dad’s class reunion is coming up. Dad was a popular kid in high school. Or at least he’s a popular kid now. He says he wasn’t that popular in high school but he sure looks awful smiley in all the photos I’ve seen and there are a lot of lay-deez hanging around with him. He says they were not HIS lay-deez but they were hanging around with him because his brothers were popular so they thought that’s how to get in good with his brothers but I think that’s what a person says to their daughter because what are you going to say to your daughter, “I was a total stud in high school?” Ew. Brain bleach BRAIN BLEACH.
Anyway, so he’s on the reunion planning committee with a bunch of ladies and it seems he’s the only fella. I think he enjoys this because he feels like the only rooster in the henhouse. And there’s a crazy person. Well, that’s mean. I don’t know that she’s CRAZY. She’s…religious. Let’s just say she found Jesus. Because he was apparently playing hide-and-seek. And she found him! Winner! Olly-olly-oxen-free, Jesus! Oh, Jesus, you so crazy, hiding behind the gardening shed!
So this woman – she has a nickname which makes me laugh but I don’t want to use it, that’s rude, so let’s call her…um…Super Sarah, it’s close to the nickname – Super Sarah wanted everyone to know about how she found Missing Jesus. So she wrote a book about it. There seemed to also be something about aliens in it. And spaceships. And how she was a FALLEN WOMAN but Jesus forgave her trampery.
But no one wanted to read the book. Super Sarah was sad! So she took the list of names and addresses of all the people she graduated with and mailed them all a copy. As you do.
Well, Dad didn’t like that. Dad didn’t like that AT ALL. (This all happened a couple of months ago. These are two different conversations. I don’t want to confuse anyone.)
Dad: Remember I told you Super Sarah tried to give me that Missing Jesus book at the planning committee meeting but I was like, I don’t think he’s missing, so I told her I didn’t want it?
Me: Yes. I still think you should have taken it, I want to read about the aliens. I think I could have written an excellent review of that on my blog. Like, Where’s Waldo for the religious types. Only, with aliens. And also Jesus.
Dad: She mailed me a copy this week.
Me: What? In your really real mailbox? How’d she get your address?
Dad: She told the woman in charge of the mailing list she needed it for reunion purposes. But that was a LIE. She needed it for MISSING JESUS BOOK PURPOSES.
Me: I am SO EXCITED. You mail that to me right now. I’ll reimburse you for the postage.
Dad: No. Can’t.
Me: Can’t? Why?
Dad: I wrote “unwanted solicitation” and “illegal use of the U.S. Postal Service” on the envelope and mailed it back. Did you know you don’t even have to pay for mail if you do that? It’s FREE.
Me: You DID? First, BOO, Dad, I WANTED that, and second, HA! I hope the Postal Cops arrest her for sending Jesus through the mail.
Dad: Nah. They won’t. Your Uncle G. read it. He said it reads like she went off her medication.
(Note: my “Uncle G.” isn’t my uncle, but my cousin. But he’s the same age as my uncles, so when we were kids, we were encouraged to call him Uncle G. and it’s kind of stuck. I sometimes call him G. now, which he encourages, and it sounds weird to me because I grew up calling him Uncle G. I also have an Uncle R. who isn’t my uncle but my Dad’s best friend. It’s an Amy’s-family thing, I don’t know.)
Me: I AM SO MAD I DON’T GET TO READ IT. Will Uncle G. send me his copy?
Dad: No. I don’t want you making fun of Jesus on the internet, even if he is in a spaceship.
Me: FINE. You’re totally a joykiller right now.
Dad: If you go to hell for making fun of Missing Spaceship Jesus I’m going to be really sad.
Me: I know. I know. It would be a sad turn of events if you come to find out Super Sarah was on the right track and Jesus was totally a missing alien, like E.T., and the loaves and fishes were really Reese’s Pieces.
Dad: You’re totally going to hell for saying the loaves and fishes are Reese’s Pieces.
Me: I’m going to hell for so many other things than that. That’s just delicious peanut-butter-flavored icing on the burny hellcake, Dad.
So this past weekend, Dad had a reunion party. It wasn’t the REUNION, but a PARTY for the reunion. The reunion’s in July. These people have a LOT of events. I can’t even imagine wanting to hang out with the assholes I graduated with once, let alone a gajillion times. But this party was for everyone who’s ever graduated from his school, and then in July there’s the actual reunion. It’s exhausting just thinking about it. I wonder if, as you age, it’s like “any excuse for a party because most of us are dead anyway?” (I’m KIDDING. They’re only SOME of them dead. Not at ALL mostly.)
Me: So how was the party?
Dad: Fine. Your Uncle G. was the hit of the party. He talked to everyone, even if he didn’t know them.
Me: He’s pretty friendly, that one.
Dad: He made Super Sarah cry.
Me: He DID? Why? Did he tell her the Jesus Spaceship crashed?
Dad: He told her I hated her because she sent me that book, and she started CRYING and WAILING and saying “I CAN’T BELIEVE HE SENT IT BACK TO ME” and then ran to the bathroom. I don’t hate her, I just didn’t want that stupid weird Missing Spaceship Jesus book.
Me: Ha! What did you do?
Dad: Oh, I don’t know. I wasn’t there. It was in another part of the room. G. told me about it. I didn’t see any of it. She stayed right away from me. I think because I don’t believe in Jesus Spaceships. So I’m probably a heathen.
Me: What did Mom think?
Dad: Your mother said, “that woman was always a drama queen” and rolled her eyes.
Me: Good call. Also, you’re probably already pretty emotional if you’ve got one eye on the sky for Missing Jesus in a Spaceship. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.
Dad: No, probably not.
Me: I’m still really mad you didn’t keep that book and mail it to me.
Dad: I think someone said she has a website.
Me: WHAT? I LIVE ON THE INTERNET. What’s the website. What’s her last name?
Dad: I’m not telling you because you’ll make fun of it on your blog.
Me: Of course I will. Anyone would.
PS – I totally just found her website using a combination of her first name, the town where she went to high school, and the word “Jesus.” That’s worrisome. She was the FIRST RESULT, too. Wow. She’s really got a niche market.
I won’t link to it, because that’s really over the top mean. It’s not her fault she believes in Missing Spaceship Jesus. But I have to put in the book cover. Listen, I HAVE to. It’s – it’s got dolls on it, you guys. DOLLS. With DEAD DEAD EYES. And one was in a FIRE, or possibly needs a BATH.
Also, per Dad, she was the salutatorian, but her online biography says she barely graduated high school because she couldn’t read. So that kind of means that either there were only two people in the graduating class (there weren’t) or she was REALLY GOOD AT PULLING THE WOOL OVER PEOPLE’S EYES. Or she’s a liar.
And also, on her website, it shows that she seems to go around doing talks about Missing Spaceship Jesus? And she puts on SKITS. Using PROPS. And COSTUMES. One of which is her dressed like ONE OF THE DOLLS ON HER BOOK COVER. And laughing with her mouth really wide open while wearing crazy-person-on-the-subway-who-doesn’t-know-how-to-color-within-the-lines lipstick. This is just horrifying. And also kind of hysterical.
I wonder if anyone I went to high school with became a crazy? Well, MORE of a crazy? I’m not going to the reunion to find that out, but it’s an interesting idea that never crossed my mind.
Also, Dad has NEW TECHNOLOGY NEWS for us! We all like technology so I thought I’d share.
Dad: You can cancel your Facebook now.
Me: I can? I always could, probably. That option is available to me. Why now, though?
Dad: You don’t need it anymore. There’s a new Facebook. It was on the news.
Me: Oh? What’s the new Facebook?
Dad: Google Plus Something.
Me: It’s not Plus anything. It’s actually Minus something. Members.
Dad: What? You’ve HEARD of it? But it’s brand new!
Me: No, it came out last summer or something, I think. I’ve been on it for a while.
Dad: No, it was on the news!
Me: Well, that’s good, Dad, but I assure you it’s been around for about a year. Maybe it was telling you it’s been around for a year and people should sign up because it COULD be the next Facebook, were anyone to sign up for it.
Dad: It said it’s better than Facebook! Because it’s from Google!
Me: It’s not bad. But no one’s on it. It’s like someone telling you, “stop going to the most popular nightclub in town, this one’s better!” and you show up, and it’s nice, and it’s shiny, and it has good music and drinks and stuff, but there’s no one there. You’ll eventually go back to the first nightclub because you’re bored out of your mind and there’s no one to talk to but the bartender.
Dad: There’s music and drinks?
Me: No. It was an analogy I just made up just now. It wasn’t very good. If I’d had notice, I could have done better.
Dad: Why did the news tell me it was better than Facebook if it’s not? I don’t understand.
Me: I think the people at Google are very sad their master plan didn’t work out. They do so well with so many other things. I imagine the Google people very perplexed about the failure of Google Plus to take off. Also, it’s all very subjective. It MIGHT be better than Facebook, if people were to join it. There’s no one to talk to right now.
Dad: I feel tricked. I got an email from Google telling me I should sign up for it the other day. I should reply and give them a piece of my mind for lying to me on the news.
Me: You could. But I don’t think they’d care, Dad. Also, it’s not a lie. It’s an OPINION.
Dad: I WOULD CARE.
Me: OK. Well, then feel free to email Google and take them to task for giving you their opinion about the superiority of their social media platform.
Dad: I MIGHT JUST DO THAT.
Me: Were you even going to sign up? You don’t even have a Facebook account. You hate Facebook.
Dad: No, of course I wasn’t. Those places are where the government spies track you.
Me: This is really all a moot point, then, isn’t it?
Dad: DON’T LIE TO ME ON THE NEWS.
Me: OK, Dad. OK. No lying on the news. Wait, was this on Fox News?
Dad: What other news do I watch?
Me: Oh, yes, then I can see how you’d get upset about a lie being on Fox News. You write that letter. Can’t have lies being on Fox News.
There’s the latest in Amy’s Dad-land. Much DRAMA!
Don’t forget – you have about 36 hours to comment on this post in order to enter the drawing for a box of as-yet-undetermined awesomeness!
And…for today’s Bloggiversary celebration…your THIRD MOST POPULAR POST! This post is one of MY favorites, too. Because it was a group effort, and we all coordinated and laughed and had the best time and it was a whole WEEK of awesomeness and people STILL find my blog be searching for “Sneaky Fuckerism.” I love that you’re all still reading this. (Caution, little kiddos who might be reading, there’s a LOT of cussing in that post. But it is sciency cussing.)
Happy Thursday! Look how the week is almost over. I have rehearsal tonight. Then I’m going to go home and schlump on the couch all exhausted-like. WHAT A WEEK WHOO!