errr
The whole Daylight Savings thing has definitely screwed us up. The baby was uncharacteristically resistant to a nap this afternoon. Eventually, after sitting with him to both Carl Craig and Brian Eno mp3's, I decided the best route would be to put him in his crib while I took my shower. He fussed for awhile but now I hear him sleeping away over the baby monitor. I was having a ton of trouble waking up this morning. I was beat. I think it's just that time of year where stress just gets to me and makes me shut down for a little while, whether I have time for it or not.
Yesterday was my aunt's 74th birthday which meant that a sizable chunk of my loud family came to our house for cake and champagne way too early in the day. Esquire says that girls from big families are more fun and that may be, but I sure wasn't the picture of pleasantness when I was trying to finish my piece for Pulp and had to fend off my pretentious (but lovable) Uncle Jimmy who wouldn't shut up about that crap Far From Heaven from the moment he walked in the door. My Uncle Jimmy is definitely my strangest relative. It's not that his life is very peculiar but he has all of these personality quirks that just strike me as insane. He's generally a snob and likes to talk a lot of shit about things like Italian Neo-Realist films, opera, and literature. Since he and I happen to share a lot of the same artistic interests he's always looking to strike up a conversation, which is fine, but I tend to disagree with him on just about everything. He also has this annoying prejudice that any music produced after 1960 is utter garbage, but whatever. He also has this habit of grabbing the arm of whoever he's talking to in order to ensure their complete attention. And a kiss goodbye from him is never a simple peck on the cheek. It's always this loud production that involves the recipient getting up close and personal with his nicotine stench and perma-stubble. Anyway.
I'm also getting annoyed that, due to my big family, someone is constantly having a birthday/anniversary/birth/christening/death/whatever involving lots of high-calorie food that I can't eat. I'm eying this saucy dress I'm trying to fit into around graduation time and I can't take the distraction.
So my trip to the Creepy Christian Church in Cranberry was very interesting. I went with the Little Sister, her friend Sarah, and Tricia. It was an odd group and I still can't quite believe we came together for such a strange activity. We listened to the usual sermon about how pitiful gay people are and shit. Afterward, the hip, young members of the church, undoubtedly drawn to us by our piercings and “outrageous” hair colors, were way too eager to meet us. They generally asked three questions: What did you think of the service? Where are you from? How did you hear about us? To which we vaguely replied: Nice. Pittsburgh. Pulp. After I was home I started having these visions of Pulp getting flooded with propaganda from Victory Christian Fellowship. (By the way, Shanley and whoever else Pulp-affiliated who reads this: if that does happen I'm really sorry.)
The people there were pleasant enough, but in a Stepford Wives kind of way. Very glazed, permanent smiles, very cheery and very encouraging of us to join them…join them…join them.
By some lapse of my sanity I decided to join them for post-light-gay-bashing vittles at Denny's. That was just weird. And they all talk about Christian sex just way too much. Sluts.
Well, I'm starved and the kitchen is a mess, mostly due to the sopping wet New York Times spread out on the floor to dry. That didn't stop me from reading more about SARS and getting a little freaked out.
Alright, I'm going to pass out soon.
