Showing posts with label jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jesus. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

"I and my decapitated popsicle will now retire upstairs, THANK YOU VERY MUCH"

So I have discovered that it's very hard to drive home when you're crying for the last 45 minutes of the hour-long trip.

And now, I'll make you wonder, and start at the beginning.

Let's see... My Day, by Basiorana. After a quick trip to the gym and a shower, I headed over to the school to meet with my old guidance counselor, who was thrilled to see me, showed me the image of me she stitched into her quilt (the little tiny pencil in my hair was priceless), then gave me information to pass along to Shrewd and the Brother about jobs while offering nothing for me.

Figures.

Anyway, I proceeded to drive up to Dover for my therapy appointment, and after that, headed over to Ryter's. I was driving along a long, straight stretch of road at about 50, 55 mph in a 35 mph zone and I passed a cop. Thinking, Aww, damn..., I slowed and kept going, watching as he did a U-turn and followed me to the highway on-ramp, whereupon he turned on his lights and I immediately pulled over.

I got a warning. I mean, he put me into the system and nothing came up, I'm sure, so I got a verbal admonishment and was sent on my way. I've been driving kind of slow since then; I was always kind of proud of the fact that I'd never been stopped by a cop for anything and that's no longer the case, which I find mildly depressing, but I didn't get a ticket or even a written warning so that's good, at least. Ryter mentioned that he'd noticed the Durham police are able to devote much more time to catching speeders once school gets out, so I'll be especially careful this summer.

I met up with Ryter, anyway, and we went to go get stuff for his new lizard tank. He's getting a bearded dragon, got it approved by his landlady and everything. He's really excited, it's cute. He's going to name it Jesus (Hay-SOOS, not JEE-sus), for Jesus shall be his name (He said it, not me...). We got the tank and all, stashed it in the back of the car securely, and then went to get more climbing wood at another pet store, a few towns over. We had just passed the exit we would have taken to go back to his house when the skies opened up in terrible, torrential rain. Ryter decided we might as well keep going, and I didn't object.

We got to the parking lot, headed in, and a few seconds too late Ryter noticed that the lot was flooded. He realized this because his car was in a very, very deep puddle. Like, caulk the wagons and float across kind of puddle. After a few tries, the car moved and he parked. "On three, we run," he declared, and on three, I sprinted out of the car and over to the covered sidewalk, where a man was waiting to inform me that the front bumper of Ryter's car was currently floating in the waters of the Giant Puddle of Doom.

Much rain, bumper-fetching and bumper-cramming-into-the-back-seat later, the water-swept part was secured in the car, and we went to the pet store. Shoes squishing, I also stopped by Fashion Bug to grab a dry shirt for when we got back to his apartment. And, on the way back, it started to hail, too, so I was suddenly petrified I'd come back to see my car damaged or something. And, tornado watches, flashes of lightning, nonstop thunder... Yeah, not so fun.

Plus we got back to his apartment and the power went out, which displeased him greatly. But we set up both the terrarium and his bookcase, then went out and bought a chess game in a lull to occupy ourselves (he checkmated me in three moves, then in four moves-- I fail, but hey, I voted for Pretty Pretty Princess), but as soon as we got back, the power went back on.

None of this has anything to do with why I started to cry on the way back home, though. I'll go into it more when I'm not so tired, but suffice it to say that I'm very frustrated for my inability to ask for things I want. Need, yes, I'll ask for that. Want, not so much. It's driving me crazy.

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Basio's an aristocrat!

Today is the Veneralia, a festival to honor Venus/Aphrodite. For this day, women removed the jewelry from Venus' cult statue, bathed the statue, adorned it with flowers, and then bathed themselves in the public baths with wreaths of myrtle on their heads. They would then ask for divine help in their relations with men.

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Guess what?

I got a call from Bisobrina today. Bisobrina's really into genealogy, which may or may not be associated with the fact that she's adopted and thus has been thinking about family a lot lately. Anyway, thanks to the wonders of the internet, she's been looking into our family's history, and apparently on my mother's side she's traced it back to the 1100's, which impresses the heck out of me.

What impresses me more is that she's discovered that I am related to the one, the only, the infamous... Anne Boleyn.

Actually, I'm related to Mary Boleyn, Anne's sister. Anne, for the less informed among my readers, was the second wife of King Henry VIII of England and the mother of Elizabeth I. She was among the reasons why Henry decided to create the Church of England (well, kinda. He would've done it for any other fertile woman, but she was the one he picked). I am a descendant of her sister Mary, who also put out for the king but who has the advantage of not having been beheaded before she was able to produce more than one kid, who, I might add, remained unmarried.

Anyway, yes. My grandmother to the umpteenth power put out for a king who banged and beheaded her sister. Shrewd and I were wondering if that makes us genetically loose women. It's possible. I find this theory to be AWESOME.

Winston Churchill is also related to Mary Boleyn, but the chances of the lines of descent being at all similar are pretty low. Technically he'd be at least a distant cousin, but then, technically everyone is my distant cousin, especially outside of Africa with the whole Mitochondrial Eve thing (or we're all descended from Adam and Eve for you Christians). I can technically say I'm related to Jesus. Oh my god, I'm related to Jesus! But so is everyone, so it's not nearly as cool.

I want to know how closely related to Jesus I am. That would be a great thing to discuss at parties. "You're a Jehovah's Witness? Well, speaking of Jehovah, you know his son? I'm totally the descendant of his third cousin." Okay, so maybe it would be lame. This is why I don't do so hot at parties.

Shrewd wants to discover that we are Jesus's great5,000 neices, because that would make us the last Zions like in that movie Dogma, but I had to inform her that that's pretty unlikely and anyway, we have cousins who are younger than us so it seems very improbable that we will get to team up with Kevin Smith, Jason Mewes, Chris Rock and Salma Hayek and have adventures fighting demons in a race to stop Matt Damon and Ben Affleck from unraveling space and time.

No matter how awesome that would be.

Anyway, I may not be related to Jesus, but I am related to the slutty sister of a slutty beheaded woman. My genes ain't divine, but they sure have a lot of royal promiscuity in them.

Okay, I'm gone now. Just one more thing:

HAPPY APRIL FOOL'S DAY!