An open message to "Christians" like my parents.

 If you support the current administration, you cannot also follow Christ.

You can call yourself a Christian all you want, but at this point in America, “Christian” bears little to no resemblance to the actual teachings of Christ.

The current powers that be are literally doing the opposite of everything Jesus taught. There is no grey area here. These people lie and cheat and steal. They believe in taking from the poor and denying care to the sick. They believe in intolerance for anyone who is considered “other.” They believe in letting women die rather than give them access to essential healthcare. And if you think any of them are actually followers of Christ, you are fucking delusional.

These people are evil. If you support them, you support evil, and you are complicit in its takeover of this country. If you think you’re a good person, news flash: you are absolutely not. You support the deaths of children by school shooters. You support violence against the LBGTQ community. You support people who say we should just murder homeless people. You support people who openly display their white supremacist tattoos. You support people who want to throw anyone not-white into torture prisons in El Salvador with zero due process.

Pull your head out of your asses. You are shit people, and if hell was real, you’ve already got a one way ticket. You can quote bible verses until you’re blue in the face, but you’re nothing more than a parrot. It means absolutely NOTHING if you are not also doing good works. 

Sorry y'all, but I really needed to get this out.

You look just like a martyr; you act just like a thief.

 Yeah I know I said I was going to try and focus on the positive/happy/funny things in life, but after a conversation I had with someone today, I really really just need to vent about this. And it's something that needs to be said.

Violence against women has thankfully over the last odd years become a topic that actually gets addressed, and we’ve made some small strides in acknowledging how pervasive it is. But it’s still not acknowledged enough.

Let’s talk about how much sexual violence the average modern woman has to endure.

My parents used to throw some wild parties. It was the 1980s—wild coke fueled parties were the norm. Dad moved out of the house when I was 2, but mum continued to throw said parties.

I remember these parties. Me and the small children of mum’s friends would be left to just wander around until it was decided we should be put to bed. The other kids would be settled down in Older Sis#1’s room, as by that point she had fecked off back to England and never looked back.

I asked mum about this many years back, but when I described the man and said I thought his name was “Vinny,” mum claimed to know of no such person at her parties back then.

I remember him. Or at least, I remember his face. This man would come into my bedroom late at night during these parties. I remember him being there, and I remember dreading him being there. I remember other things I really don’t want to put to words, but beyond that the memories get fuzzy. My brain just doing its job in erasing the most traumatic parts I guess. Mum still denies any such person existed, but when I first gave her a detailed description of him while describing to her what he did, her face betrayed her—she definitely knew who I was talking about.

In high school, I spent as many weekends as I could at friends’ houses. I feel like I should have known better than to go to this one party, but I was 14, my life at home was hell, I was doing a lot of mind altering drugs, and really just wanted to party with my friends (anything that did not involve enduring my home was fun as far as I was concerned). Clem’s dad was a cop, but for some reason had no problem letting his daughter throw parties in the lower level of their split-level home.

At one point late into the party I needed the loo, but someone was puking in the downstairs bathroom. So I went upstairs to use that bathroom instead. When I left the bathroom to head back downstairs, he grabbed me from behind, lifted me off the ground, and dragged me into a dark upstairs room.

I was still off my face on acid at that point, so while it made my level of fear amplified 500x, it also dulled my perception of what was happening. My memories of the actual rape itself are fuzzy, almost like the memories of a vivid dream—something horrible was happening, but my brain could not focus on exactly what it was. Honestly I am forever thankful for that.

[Remember my Kevin Bacon phobia? This is the source, Resemblance was uncanny.]

Obviously I couldn’t report it. I was a delinquent teenager and had been on drugs. Who the fuck would believe me if I accused a cop of rape? Even if anyone did believe me, my status as a delinquent kid made it a certainty that no one would support me. So I did nothing, other than never go to a party there again.

In my mid-20s, Big Sis#2 set me up with her co-worker. As a result we became friends, though we never actually dated (Paul #2, mentioned a few times here over the years). One time I was at a party at his house, and one of his friends started aggressively hitting on me. I made it known I was not interested, but dude did not take the hint. He kept bringing me beers, making sure I never was without a beverage.

I had a pretty solid tolerance for beer at that point in my life. But after my third Bud Light, (*I know, I’m not proud of that) I started to feel absolutely FUCKING WASTED. And nauseous. Dude stayed with me the whole time, even held my hair when, about 20 minute later, I was vomiting into the shrubbery in the back garden. The last thing I remember is dude holding my arm while we walked back into the house. Everything goes black after that.

Just before dawn the next morning, I woke up on the floor of the empty room that Paul#2 and his roommates were currently attempting to rent.

Awoke on a hard wood floor. Cold. Completely alone. And completely naked. Physically, I felt as if I had been hit by a truck. Mentally? I didn’t know what to think.

So many people—some of whom I had thought of as friends—saw me in the obviously fecked condition i was in and never stopped and checked that I was ok. I never spoke to Paul#2 again, nor to any of his friends. And he never reached out to me after that. He knew exactly what his dude friend did, and he chose to both not stop it, but also not call him out on it.

So many women I know have multiple stories like mine. SO MANY. Why does that not cause absolute outrage??!??

You want to know why most of us would choose the bear? I would LITERALLY RATHER DIE than go through rape again. It is the worst thing that one human can do to another. It is worse than torture or death.

This is why the #notallmen crowd piss me off so much. We’re not fucking morons - we all know it’s not all men. But it’s enough of you that we have to assume it’s all men just to survive. If you immediately jump on the not all men defense, you’re just as bad as the people who blame the victims of sexual assault. You’re part of the problem, because you’re refusing to acknowledge the problem and instead focus on how it negatively affects men. 

ugh I need a xanax

Car Designs are Getting Out of Control.

 

 I had thought cars reached peak ugliness back in 2017, but hoooooo boy was I wrong.

 Seriously, what is happening at these companies when the design team gets together to finalise a new car? How is this happening??

Like you know exactly what this new BMW needs? A CAMELTOE. 

Right on the front.  

How about a new pickup truck? Maybe we should make the front look like it overdosed on steroids, so it's impossible to see what's directly in front of you while you're driving. Sound good?

 

OF COURSE IT DOES. Manly men need it HUGE. None of this woke shit like safety. 

But that grill is not NEARLY good enough. How about a cheese grater?

 

No..? You need more?

THEN YOU NEED A CHAIN LINK FENCE.

 

Someone tell this Lexus its mascara is running. 

 

 Every time I think I've seen the ugliest car that ever existed, some new monstrosity drives past me on my commute. Don't even get me bloody started on the stupid Tesla Techno Van.

 Hope you have a good weekend, y'all.

 

And then a video surfaced of a black man having police called on him by the grand wizard of the Ku Klux Karens

Three times, during my high school and college years, I had this experience: 

I was walking around town with a friend, in broad daylight, both of us chatting and laughing and clearly enjoying each other's company. And then a police car pulls up to the curb and the cop rolls his window down to ask me if I'm ok. 

Extremely confused--the first time--I was like, "......yeah?"

Not until he drove away did I fully comprehend what had just happened. 

My friend was black. 

The second time, I got mad. 

Same exact scene--me and my friend/old roommate trying to enjoy a nice day walking around Philly, cop pulls up, and asks me if I'm ok. 

I was pissed. I responded, "Am I ok? Why do you ask?" I paused for half a second to give him the impression that I expected an answer, but then answered for him, indicating my friend. "It's because he's black, right?"

The cop went immediately on the defensively offensive, muttering BS about "just doing my job" and this whole time my poor friend was getting more and more distraught until he was basically cowering behind me and begging ME to stop, to just leave it alone, he didn't want trouble with a white cop because--SHOCKING, I know--this wasn't his first such run-in with a cop. 

So I told the cop to piss off in the politest way I could manage. The third time this happened, it was with that same friend. Out of respect for his feelings and his desire to not get shot for no reason other than being black while hanging out with a white woman, I tried to keep my temper in check, although I made it very clear to that cop that he ought to reconsider his profession because he clearly had some issues with people of colour. 


I have more stories similar to this than I care to remember. But here's one that still sticks out in my memory:


A few years ago, one Sunday after church, Lil Bro#2 and I took my friend's 2 daughters junk shop-hopping for the afternoon, as friend had looked very tired and had admitted to having a rough week at work. So I said we'll entertain the girls, grab them some dinner, and bring them home later so you can have the day to yourself.

(This was before the girls entered their teens, and thus still viewed me as incredibly cool and not just Old.) 

Lil Bro#2 and I first stopped at one of our favourite junk shops, and told the girls to let us know if they found anything they liked. One found a doll bed the perfect size for her American Girl Doll, the other found a 35mm camera that appeared in good condition, so we spent a grand total of $10 and both girls claimed they had an amazing time with us. 

A couple weeks later, Lil Bro#2 and I returned to that same shop. We'd been going there for the better part of a year at that point, and were pretty friendly with the two guys who owned the place, so we usually ended up chatting with them for a bit. 

That particular day, one of the owner asked me, "Where's your menagerie? That some kind of inner city outreach thing?"

His exact words. I will never ever forget them. (Did I mention my friend and her daughters are black?)

I had a moment of stunned silence. Then said something along the lines of "those are my friend's kids, they live in Warwick."

We did not return to that shop again, and a few weeks later it ended up getting sold. Now it's a combo farmer's market and junk shop I think. Good riddance.


BLACK

LIVES

MATTER

Yes, in a perfect world, all lives matter. But this is not about that. This is about a very very real problem. So as far as I'm concerned, anyone touting #allivesmatter can SHOVE IT up their ass. 

Now some more bad news:

I'd rather take a bath with a shark.

Sometimes we hurt our pets without meaning to. The good news is (and I forget where I read this, so you'll just have to trust me) is that when you freak out and make a fuss of them afterwards, you dog or cat actually understands that you're saying sorry. Apparently, animals do this to each other when they're young, if their rough housing gets too rough and one gets hurt, the other will apologise with cuddles or something.  

I try, I really do. But cats are all on a personal mission to trip you over as many times as possible. With smaller cats, this can be very stressful.

Like with Harleyquinn and Eleven, for example.

They are both very smol, and thus tripping over one of them often results in kicking them across the room.  

And then panicking and feeling wracked with guilt.

 Tripping over Ivy?

Not so much with the guilt.

 

Gyr is not home yet. Now they're saying the end of this week. 

I JUST WANT MY MF CAR BACK FOR FECK'S SAKE IT'S BEEN ALMOST TWO MONTHS.

 Also found out today I have a torn labrum and torn hamstring in the left leg. My orthopaedist can now be added to the list of people who think I'm a witch. He could not understand how I betray absolutely no outward signs that I am in fucking excruciating pain pretty much all the time.

I have informed Bossman that he will be purchasing me a giant beanbag chair for my desk because regular chairs are now my enemy. 




 

Pro tip of the day: screen your calls when you’re trying to burn a body.

YOU GUUUUUYYYYSSSSSSSS

Harry Kane is laid up with an injury for at least THREE MONTHS. Tottenham Hotspur is FINISHED. The English national team is FINISHED. 

It was bad enough we lost Hugo Lloris to a horrific injury. His goalkeeping skills are so good, we all turned a blind eye to his being....... 

....
......:::shudders:::...
..

.......

...French.

The English and the French have a very strange relationship. Like we don't ACTUALLY hate each other, it's just a mutual arch nemesis relationship that goes back to when people first settled in what is now France and Britton. I grew up in this mindset, so maybe that's why I never understand why people get all uppity when the French and the English have a savage go at each other. 

But because people looooooooovvee feeling offended, someone tried to start an internet fight with me on Reddit after I made a clearly in jest comment about hating the bloody French. Turned out alright though, as an English person and a French person stepped in to try and explain that we don't really mean it*.

Stepmom has been in my life since I was 4 years old. Thus she has had 30+ years to observe and understand Dad's extreme Britishness. But for some reason, whenever me and the sibs and Dad start ranting about the French, Stepmom just gets confused into stunned silence. 

Or occasionally, "What is the issue with French people?!? Do any of you even know a French person?!?!?"

MOM SERIOUSLY that's not the point.

Dad, this past week:

Dadum and I have now added the rugby subscription to our tv sports app thing. Had to be done, as MY COUSIN is playing for the Worcester Warriors. 

The family that just moved in across the street are Arsenal fans. We always wear our team jerseys on weekends, and thus we now have an unspoken Football Team War. I'm thinking of buying a Spurs flag to hang in my living room window, which faces their bedroom window. 

In other news, I MIGHT get Gyr back at the end of the week. I also definitely have a lawsuit. The first MRI showed a herniated disc and some other long medical terms that mean my spine is crushing the living daylights out of my sciatic nerve, hence CONSTANT pain shooting from my lower back down to my left knee. The hip joint has been feeling slightly better, but not nearly 100% yet. I go for an MRI of said hip on Friday. 

The orthopaedist was honest with me, which I appreciate. Based on the MRI of my back, the notes sent to him by my physical therapist, and all of the continuing symptoms, it is very likely that this will not get better. The next step as far as pain management will be injections/epidurals to the spine and hip. If that stops working down the road, I might need surgery. 

The one and only upshot to this is that it could potentially mean a fairly large settlement from the other driver's insurance company. I'm not looking for some absurd amount of money, but it would be nice if I could actually pay off all of my debt. 

I don't remember the last time I didn't owe fewer than five figures in debt. Until that is paid off, I will never have any savings. and because I have no money saved, whenever something extremely expensive comes up unexpectedly, I have to charge it to a credit card. I can't even cash in on my tax returns--because I live in NY and work in NJ, come tax return season, I end up owing the State of New York a sum about as much as what I get back from the federal tax return. And I get nothing back from New Jersey. 

I'm grateful at least that I do not own any property, because the mentally ill buffoon currently running the country has now put a cap on how much of your property taxes you can list as a deduction on your tax return. 

The Democrats can't cough up anyone better, so I fear we're going to be stuck with this mess for another four years. Time to rethink our options and elect someone who will REALLY Make America Great Again Russia Instead.

* We do.

Well, we must never feel sorry for ourselves, must we? No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse.

Today, Gyr of House Brooker, First of His Name, Son of a Perverse and Rebellious Woman, was totalled.

(Apparently, stop signs are merely a suggestion.)

I had a 4 minute ride in an ambulance that will probably cost $1,200.00. Nothing broken, but I did something to my left hip that requires an orthopaedist. That will be Monday. Walking, sitting, lying down, bending over, and putting on shoes and trousers, among a number of other things, are incredibly painful at the moment.

As to what the feck I'm going to do with regards to obtaining a new vehicle, jumping off a tall building is at the top of my list.

I had consolidated the remaining money due on Gyr into a loan I already had with the credit union, because I was REEALLLLLYY struggling making the car payment plus the existing loan payment. I'll be lucky if I get $4,000.00 from my insurance for Gyr. I cannot afford the added monthly expense of a car payment, even a used car.

Why can't something go right in my life? Just one thing. One.

IT'S AALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVEE!!!!!!

Hey y'aaallllll. It's been a while.

Most of this is going to be me rambling diary-like about the last few months because I really just need to write it down. Feel free to skip that part. 

BUT FIRST

For all of the lads reading this, I have some bUrNiNg questions. 

This is not me trying to question your manhood or anything, it's just genuine curiosity. I know I will never be able to afford to go back to school, but that doesn't mean I can't read and study on my own. Since devouring every last scrap of information I could find on behavioural psychology, I've gotten pretty good at observing and analysing people's behaviour.

Which was when I noticed some behaviour patterns that seemed exclusive to men. I find these behaviours incredibly odd, but I am not a man. I can't see the reason behind it, so I MUST HAVE ANSWERS. 

Four specific behaviours have left me baffled:

1. Backing into parking spaces. Family, friends, acquaintances, neighbours--all y'all dudes are CONSTANTLY making 50 point turns to back into parking spaces. WHY?!? Is it so you can pull forward out of the parking space? It takes like two seconds to back out of a parking space. What in bloody blazes are you doing?!? EXPLAIN.


2. Standing next to the car in states where you can't pump your own gas. I live right by the border of New Jersey, so I frequently have to stop for petrol in New Jersey. Idk how many other states do this, but in NJ a gas station attendant pumps your petrol for you. Like you're not allowed to do it yourself. 

But for some reason, soooooooooo many MEN get out of their cars and stand beside it while the car fills up. 

WHY. Is it, like, not manly enough if you don't actively participate in pumping your own petrol? Is it a control thing because someone else is doing something to your car?? I DON'T UNDERSTAND.


3. Leaving your bloody bollocky pickup truck running while you go pick up your take out food. And leaving it running for like 50 years because you're chatting with the other regulars. This is particularly annoying in the spring and autumn when I like to have my windows open, only to end up getting a living room full of diesel exhaust and a constant dvnfbfbnmgdfbhghgbhmgfbgbmgbhmfgbhmfgmfbfmjmnRUMBLERUMBLERUMBLE outside. 

Why can't you just shut the car off? Do you want your grandkids to die because you don't feel like giving 2 sh*ts about the environment? EXPLAIN PLS.


4. Spitting. Ive known some women who do this as well, but it's definitely more common in men--constant hacking and spitting IN PUBLIC. (One of the breeders downstairs for example, hocks up some nastiness and spits it out LIKE EVER FOUR SECONDS. RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW. EVERY MORNING.) Like seriously, don't any of y'all know it's impolite to spit IN FRONT OF A LADY?? It's also super duper disgusting and it makes me nauseous.  Please stop, for the love of Cthulhu, PLEASE STOP.




Your responses will be much appreciated. 

*     *     *

So yeah it's been a while. Things aren't really any better. My New Year's Resolution is to do everything possible to sabotage and eventually destroy my physical health. I went on the Pill and then deliberately increased my cigarette intake. I don't really eat. Most weekends, I just sleep. I probably drink too much.

Lil Bro#2 moved to Brooklyn a while back. I felt horrible for hoping he hated it so he would come back.

He loves it. I don't think he's coming back.

M. finally got out of the toxic household that wasted like 8 years of his life and almost led him to a total breakdown

and moved to Florida. To stay with his father for a while.

I AM SO HAPPY about this--M. needed to get away; I was so so afraid for him the last few months he was here--but it's also a knife to the gut every time I realize he's not here anymore. I've also been trying to help his mother out with her legal issues. Basically, once she was forced out of her house (foreclosure), she was entitled to an increase in alimony from her douchebag pedophile ex-husband so she could pay rent. 

Even though this was written into a LEGALLY BINDING AGREEMENT, he refuses to start the alimony increase until he gets a court order. So I filed a motion to get the increase, and naturally--because let's be honest when it comes to me I will get the shortest and shittiest end of the stick every time, no matter what the situation--our motion got assigned to the most incompetent POS judge in the whole state of New Jersey. Like this judge sucks so bad that she got fired from the Civil Division

...and for some reason was deemed competent enough for the family division. Go figure.

They've been giving me the run around for a month--not returning my calls, straight up lying to me, and now--for the second time--have postponed the motion. So M.'s mother is basically living in poverty and losing a different utility a week because she can't pay her bills. 

In other news....

My meds have been more or less tripled since I last posted. Increases in everything--the antidepressants, the mood stabilizers, sedatives, et. cetera. I have never taken the mood stabilizers, so I now have about 9,000 mg of quetiapine stashed away. I don't think I'll ever actually do it, but I take comfort in knowing I have the option. 

Also I now have an iron-clad 20-page living will that basically forbids any EMT's from performing any and all lifesaving nonsense if they arrive and find me unresponsive/dead, and forbids anyone at the hospital from attempting to resuscitate me. It's handy working for estate lawyers sometimes.

It's not that I really want to kill myself, I just want to die. I'm done. So completely and totally done with life. I don't even bother praying anymore. Pretty sure I've just been talking to myself the whole time anyway. 

My entire left hand has gone numb/pins and needlesy, progressively getting worse over the last two weeks (started with just the index finger). I'm hoping it's a clot or a stroke, but no way in hell am I that lucky. Probably just carpal tunnel or something. 


If you made it this far, I'm sorry if I made you depressed or unhappy in any way. Go make yourself a nice cup of tea (or a stiff drink) and pretend you never read any of this.

Medicine, let us in, this remedy's not kickin' in

I am still here. Not gonna lie--things kind of suck.

The desire to flee is very strong. Pack up the cats and some belongings, get in the car, drive far far away

and never come back

What up my glip glops!

In Orange County, NY, it is currently

2 degrees F

(-17C)

I just spent 20 minutes layering up so I could go out for a cigarette, spent maybe 5 minutes smoking half the cigarette before my hands got too cold, and then spent another 15 minutes removing said layers to relocate back to the couch. 

I feel like there are better ways to spend my time. 

Ah well.

I am going to complain like never before.

This will be long and boring, but here is the only place I can really vent about this.

The one potential issue that made me reluctant to accept a place on the church council has arisen.

Politics.

Over the last few months, our church has turned into the bloody War of the Roses. It's like a Game of Thrones episode without the actual violence.

Brief summary--Pastor Fusspot came to our church back in 2012. We embraced him and his family because his wife is one of those people who is so good and kind and wonderful she's like a little ray of perfect sunshine. idk how the hell he managed to get her to marry him.

I didn't notice any issues until about a year later, when I started (or at least tried to start) getting involved with the church's children's ministries. To keep this short[er], basically Pastor Fusspot is a control freak, a micromanager, a very poor speaker, and he has a problem with women.*

This eventually led to a big blow up between Pastor Fusspot and the couple who used to be in charge of the music. Luke and April left the church, taking the whole band with them.**

Then Mike the Band Leader and his wife were hired to manage the music, and they brought in their friends to make up what is now half of the band (the other half being me, Lil Bro#2, one of the drummers, two 13 year old girls doing backup vocals, and New Guy on the keyboard).

Our band is fantastic. We've had visitors to our church tell us we have one of the best worship teams they've ever seen. I didn't even realize how good we are until I visited a couple other churches and saw their bands. We rock.

Pastor Fusspot and Mike the Band Leader started butting heads from the get go. Nothing major, it's just Pastor Fusspot being his micromanaging self and wanting to control every last thing that goes on in the church and Mike the Band Leader trying to get him to see reason when he's about to make a stupid decision.

Mostly they just agreed to disagree whenever an issue arose and went on peacefully co-existing.

Then Pastor Fusspot & Family went away for a couple weeks to help a family member down in Florida. In their absence, Mike the Band Leader and one of our other church leaders gave sermons for the 2 Sundays Pastor Fusspot was away.

Mike the Band Leader is an amazing speaker. Everyone loved his sermon. And word of this got back to Pastor Fusspot. (And I think many of us realized then what a poor speaker Pastor Fusspot is...)

This is when the serious head-butting between them began. It's been one thing after another--Pastor Fusspot doesn't like the songs we're playing, now we're not allowed to do anything even remotely country, no Pastor doesn't like these songs either, Pastor doesn't want Doe leading more than 2 songs per Sunday, Pastor doesn't want Mike's Wife leading any songs ever, Pastor doesn't want to get one competent person running the sound board every Sunday, etc etc etc etc.

And then two weeks ago, Pastor Fusspot tells Mike and his wife that the wife is no longer allowed to be in the band because Fusspot doesn't like her voice. She can work the sound board instead.

We need Mike's Wife. She has the best stage presence out of all of us. She's a freaking wizard when it comes to harmonizing on vocals. She's the best at directing all the backup singers. And for some reason when she and I sing together, the combo of our voices sounds like the singing of the effing angels themselves. Yes, she is the best at working the sound board, but snatching her off the worship team before training someone to really replace is just plain stupid.

Mike the band leader tried reasoning with Pastor Fusspot, but of course Fusspot would have none of it. Mike tried once again to find us a somewhat professional sound person (because we really need someone one the board who knows what they're doing) and even offered to pay the potential sound person out of his own pocket. But no matter what Mike said, Fusspot just shut it down.

Fast forward to yesterday afternoon.

I get a phone call from Pastor Fusspot that he has scheduled an emergency council meeting for 7.00 PM. He won't tell me what it's about. I told him I couldn't go because I had an appointment at the sheriffs office regarding my gun permit (and it takes MONTHS to get an appointment, I made this one back in February), so Fusspot says to call as close to 7 as I can and they'll conference me in.

I told Mike about the emergency meeting (not to blab, we just text back and forth a lot every day, mostly sending each other stupid youtube videos) and he said, "oh dear"..... and then told me he put all his thoughts of what's been happening the last few weeks into a letter and sent it to Pastor Fusspot that morning.

I called into the meeting at about 7.30. Three of us were attending via telephone, as only three of the other council members could make it to church. What followed was the most frustrating and stressful and drama-filled 90 minutes I've had this year.

Pastor Fusspot wants Mike gone. But he won't fire him because then Mike can claim unemployment benefits. So he has come up with a plan that will guarantee Mike quits. As I have noticed that Fusspot is fond of doing, he bends the truth to suit his side of things, misquotes members of the congregation to back himself up, and at one point even outright lied about someone in church telling him that Mike has been stirring "dissension" within the congregation.

One council member expressed his concern (and not for the first time) that Mike leaving the church could destroy what took us several years to build back up. Myself and one of the other council members (who is a drummer in the band) seconded this notion. One council member declined to offer a real opinion. Two of the council members--both members of our church since it started back in the 80's--lean more towards Pastor Fusspot's side out of loyalty to the church itself.

When the meeting was headed to its end and Pastor Fusspot demanded we each weigh in on his plan, I expressed a desire to be left out of that vote. I was honest--I said I think I'm too close to this situation to be objective about it, especially since Mike and his wife are two of my closest friends. The drummer agreed with me. But Pastor Fusspot wouldn't have it. In the end, me and the drummer were basically forced into an "ok fine do it" and the meeting was adjourned.

I did not tell Mike details of what happened in the meeting, but I told him enough so that he was forewarned. But then this morning I was like f**k it.

I'm done. I am done with Pastor Fusspot's constant stream of bullsh*t, I am done with his awful sermons. I am done with his total lack of respect for women. I am done with him treating everyone who has been trying to help him like they do not matter. He does have a few good qualities, but at this point it is apparent that he will never compromise enough for those qualities to do any good in the church.

I feel horrible about this. If Mike leaves the church, the band goes with him. The two teenage girls on backing vocals will remain because of their parents. The drummer/other council member could go either way, but I can see him following us out the door. New Guy on the keyboard might stay behind, but based on the fact that he and his wife have become good friends with Mike and his wife, I doubt it.

On top of that, our families will leave with us. Pastor Fusspot has to know this. No one can be that stupid.

So in one ill-advised action, Pastor Fusspot has lost his church their worship team, two of the only people in the congregation who know how to work the sound board, the person in charge of coffee and snacks in the cafe who also organizes almost all of our big events, several of the people who volunteer at all out our outreach events, two council members, two Church Board members..... basically if the church was a chair, he just cut off three of its legs.

I'm starting to have heart palpitations, so I think I'll stop now. If you've made it this far, I give you a virtual hug. Because I think I need a hug.

*Once upon a time I tried getting involved with leading Youth Group. I just wanted maybe one weekend a month, to get the kids doing arts and music and whatnot. My request was not even denied by Pastor Fusspot, it was ignored. And then a month later Pastor Fusspot hands total control of Youth Group to Lil Bro#2 for the entire summer, and Lil Bro#2 didn't even ask for it.

**April told me afterwards when we met for a few beers one evening that she had tried to set up a sort of sub group of Youth Group to get the kids involved with music. This was also ignored.

I have a present for you; it's very sharp.

 Why is it that some of simplest and easiest things cause some of us such frustration that we will avoid doing them at all costs? A combination of laziness and boredom is my best guess. Simple tasks such as

Laundry.

Doing laundry is not difficult. It's not even that time consuming if you think about it. Even if you have to go a laundromat to wash your clothes (so long as you're not in a sketchy location), it takes all of 30 seconds to throw your clothes in the washer and then you've got like half an hour before you have to come back and put the stuff in the dryer. I will say that not having my own washer and dryer is annoying, but I am permitted to use the washer and dryer in both my parents' homes whenever I need to, so it's hardly a hassle.

I spend more time thinking about doing laundry and planning to do laundry than it probably takes to do the actual laundry.

I will avoid doing laundry until I am literally down to the very last pair of emergency underwear.* Which is totally stupid, because by then I have such a ridiculous mountain of dirty clothes piled up it takes me like 4 loads to get all of it washed and dried. Which means I'm stuck at Dad's house all day on a weekend, or stuck going back and forth from work to Mum's house for three days in a row (currently on day 3 at Mum's--first load folded, second load needs folding, third load to go in the dryer during my lunch break). And that's just the clothes. There is still a pile of sheets and towels sitting on my bedroom floor that has been there since I came back from Indiana.

Even more than doing laundry, I hate

Getting the Car Serviced.

This is even easier than laundry because all I have to do is drop Gyr off at the mechanic and pick him up a few hours later. Gyr should have an oil change every 5,000 miles, but he actually get serviced about every 6,000 miles because I spend that last 1,000 miles thinking about scheduling the car for service, being anxious about it, and not actually doing it.

Since I travel over 120 miles a day for work, this little mental mania has become something of a constant in my life. As has

Going to the Bank.

I have managed--as far as my personal finances are concerned--to ensure that I never need to set foot in a bank again. Unfortunately, I have to go to the bank for work to deposit checks.

I don't know why I hate going to the bank so much. I really don't. But every time I see Boss man emerging from his office with checks and deposit slips in his hand, my heart sinks and my lunch break is ruined. Because I have to spend all of two minutes in the bank. I think this is solely the result of laziness, because Bank of America got rid of all their drive-thrus and I definitely started hating the bank more after that.....

One of our client's is currently sitting in Bossman's office complaining because we only got him $650,000.00 for his car accident. Like really, dude? On my current income (after taxes), it would take me about 20 YEARS to amass $650,000.00.

 How are the rest of y'all doing? 

*the Christmas thong, because of course you needed to know that

Give up your dead.

This week has been fairly insane. I have never been so excited to sit home and do absolutely nothing.

Monday night, shortly after arriving home, the fire department arrived outside our building. Lady next door had a burst pipe or something in her kitchen, which flooded her apartment, the migrant farmers' apartment below her, and the basement dwellers' apartment. Praise be to God, my apartment was totally undamaged.

But they had to cut the power so as to avoid potential electrical fires. And because the landlord and not the fire department cut the power, the electric company informed us we would need an Official Okay from an electrician and the Official Okay from the town building inspector before they would turn the power back on.

So Tuesday morning, I sent Drummerboy to the apartment (he's an electrician), and we had the power back on by Tuesday evening.

Also Tuesday evening, I met one of the New Zealand cousins and his wife, who were staying at Dad's house for a couple of days. His wife is originally from Alabama, and her hybrid Southern Belle/New Zealand accent is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

Wednesday I ended up spending nearly two hours with Guitar Teacher because we spent almost an hour in deep discussion over The Silmarillion before actually starting a bass guitar lesson.*

On Thursday, I took the day off work to spend with my aunts. We had a nice lunch, but then did nothing for the afternoon because it was too bloody hot out. Dinner brought on some drama with Lil Sis, who was extremely upset by the fact that we would not sit around waiting for her to get home from NYC before going to dinner. We had her meet us at the restaurant, so that I could head home before it got too late, since it takes me an hour+ to get home from there. But apparently this was unbelievably selfish of me.**

Tonight I am sitting home doing feck all. And it is wonderful.

Wovenhand's new album is out. Here is my favourite track:




BRILLIG.

Tomorrow I have been invited to a party thrown by one of The Misfits. I'm tempted to bail because I'm le tired, but I feel like I'll regret that....




























*That problem is not going anywhere fast. 

**It is perfectly fine if everyone else is inconvenienced, but Lil Sis must never be inconvenienced ever because that is Not Fair.