I don't know if I should be open-minded or laugh out loud. While driving to work yesterday, I saw a bumper sticker on the back of a Lexus that said (In Comic Sans, no less) "There is no God" and then provided the web address of the Raelians.
You remember the Raelians, don't you? Those whackaloons who claimed to have cloned a human baby? They have followers in Vegas! (Wait: reassessing shock level...hmm...not as shocked as I thought I would be.)
If you want a laugh, or if you want a shudder, you should read the Raelians press releases regarding the election. Apparently Kerry is pro-alien and pro-cult. Isn't that nice?
Especially scary/amusing is the Raelians' call to create a pro-Kerry secession from the union. Don't worry, fellow Democrats, the Raelians could clone conscripts for the pro-Kerry Army.
Dimitri said I might want to post this. I thought it might be a little racy, but on second thought, it really works more from a public service announcement angle.
So, in the interest of better health for women, I post this.
Let the Barbarella jokes begin...
I am in the process of finishing the Save The Dates. They should be mailed in the next day or so. Thankfully, Kat is riding my ass about the Bridal Shower. I’m so glad that I have her to kick me into high gear when I need her.
Kat and I decided to have two bridal showers: one for my girlfriends and one for my family-types. The girlfriend-only party will include an NC-17 Tupperware party, froofy drinks, and, if Kat has her way, Trivial Pursuit 90’s edition. The women in my family will NOT be invited as I am still laboring under the delusion that I was hatched from an asexually created pod and that my cooler-than-thou younger sister wouldn’t know what to do with products like the ones offered at the party. Similarly, I want them to feed the delusion that I wouldn’t know, either. It will be a fun giggle fest with no men allowed.
My grandmother will be holding a more traditional (read: no French Ticklers) luncheon with both sides of the family later on.
The cold has set in for the season, and I have to resort to wearing thicker bunch-up-in-the-bum pajamas and slippers. *sigh* Can’t it be 115 again?
I will be getting my hair dyed…er…washed today. (and it’s about time…the roots…er…dirt has been showing for quite some time.)
I am busier with work than I planned on being. I asked my boss for no more than two more tutoring students and ended up with six more. Their tests are the first weekend in December, so I think I’ll have some time to myself then.
My front yard has four fewer mines buried in it. Prior to today, my yard was the most forbidding and dangerous yard in the neighborhood. For those readers outside of Las Vegas, the city only allows homeowners two types of landscaping: xeriscaping and grass.
Xeriscaping (Xeros means “dry” in “Greek”) is the fancy term for rocks and scruffy little shrubs. Grass (Grass means “grass” in “English”) is the fancy term for rocks and scruffy little shrubs with a plot of grass roughly the size of Ally McBeal’s bum. Dimitri and I decided on Xeriscaping, since neither of us cared to use a lawnmower.
As a homeowner, one doesn’t get to choose the plants one will have in one’s yard. Rather, one relies on the seasoned herbological expertise of the day-laborer the contractor hires to shove plants in strategically placed holes in the yard. Our guy made landscaping choices that Morticia Addams would be proud of. (Remember Cleopatra the African Strangler?)
To the very last plant, shrub, and tree, my yard is the deadliest of all yards in the neighborhood. All of my plants have barbs, spikes, or (no kidding) bayonets. On a windy day my postman will seek me out and beg that I trim back the tree by the mailbox. At least, I think that is what he says, since my tree managed to perforate his windpipe and torso with its branches. Those plants that don’t have built-in weaponry grow so quickly and so aggressively that visitors often get swallowed by the plant life on the way to the front door.
I had a little extra time today, so I finished digging out four of the plants. They put up a fight (I have the bloody holes to show for it) but I reign victorious. The yard is a little less threatening now. I did find the remains of a UPS man in the Yucca, though. Pity.
I have figured out what everyone's Christmas present will be: a Squirrel Head Magnet.
But I wanted to post something.
I have my Latin test today. I think I'll do alright, but I haven't studied enough to feel like I mastered everything.
Ruby's been acting strange lately. She'll sit downstairs and cry for an unknown reason. After Tuesday, I can kinda sympathize.
Sorry for the no-posting thing. Insert an appropriate excuse here.
Father John finally set the date for my baptism. I’m getting baptized on November 21st at 3:00. Family, you’re of course invited. Father John still needs volunteers to handle the snakes while he shakes a chicken over my head.
I went to my first confession today. It was a good experience. I had a few jokes lined up, but Dim talked me out of them…some mumbo jumbo about disrespecting God. (As far as I’m concerned, the Guy invented Flamingos and Catnip, so He has to have a sense of humor.) Father John took me into a small prayer room off the main church and we chatted (me holding my prayer book, Father John holding his Starbucks cup) while sitting in front of a painted plywood Jesus. It was an interesting experience.
In other news, I have my car back. After forking over $1600 in repairs, I was told that the mechanics had magically found another $1400 of work that needed to be done. (It's agonizing to point out that my car is worth $3000. Coincidence? I think not.) I told them so shove it up their exhausts like a potato. My car’s a money pit. I hate it. If you value your pocketbooks, NEVER buy a Volkswagen.
Greek lessons continue on apace. I can now ask : “Where is Victory Boulevard?” and then tell myself “It’s right here, sir.” The most amusing part of my Greek lessons is my instructor, who reminds me of the father from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. According to him, Christopher Columbus was actually Greek. Greece should then be credited with discovering the New World. (No thanks to the Rat Bastard Turks, of course.) It’s all I have not to laugh out loud.
I voted this morning, and was happy to see that the voting site was plenty busy. The best part was when the volunteer next to me shouted to the whole room “Hey everyone, we’ve got a first time voter here!” and the whole room hooted and clapped for the lady she was helping. It gives you warm fuzzies.
The only sour note was hearing the Conservative ass wipe behind me in line shout (after listening to him adulate Bush in line for 20 minutes) “As long as everyone’s smart enough to vote like me things will be fine.” What an ass-clown.