Well, my plans to turn my sleep schedule around have once again been kicked in the gonads by my ever understanding parents who keep forgetting that they themselves would not appreciate it were I to come and drag them out of bed when they were trying to get their sleep because I didn't agree with their choice of hours. It's not like I live in society anyway, why the hell do I need to be awake as it passes me by? I sleep quite regularly and not too much at all, just at different hours than they do. I do need to turn it around though if I'm to have any kind of life here, but I must admit I find it somewhat comfortable to be able to count on being left alone by them for the majority of my waking hours. Now if only that also applied to my sleep hours, I'd be a happy camper.
I re-read my racist tangent and I must say that although I find it somewhat lacking in finesse and my point needn't have gone across quite so harshly, I'll stand by it and leave the political correctness to somebody else.
It is once again late the afternoon and I am still awake from last night in a zombie-like state. Just called the car repair guy and babbled some nonsense and instantly forgot what I told him to do as soon as I hung up the phone. This should make for a nice surprise when I go to pick up my car, should I remember to do that before the turn of the century. I have no idea why I'm even attempting to write a reasonably coherent blog right now, I'm really in no state. Now that I think about it, I've decided to cease and desist for now and try again later when my two brain cells can be considered legally awake. Adieu!
So I've been thinking.... well, no. That's a lie. I haven't been. Lets just say that before the windshield wipers of my mind could help it, the thought briefly crossed my mind that it's time to find a hobby. It has occurred to me lately that I am without hobbies, and as we all know, no self respecting young woman should be found in this state. Incidentally, this also applies to self-hating sad excuses for young women like myself. On one of the many occasions recently when I was sitting slumped over in a recliner poking my belly button with a ballpen (this can not be considered a hobby, I determined) I started exploring my mind and my very existance to try to come up with something I am interested in, something I enjoy that is socially acceptable as a potential hobby. I came up wanting. I am unfortunately without a shred of interest in the outside world, as it happens. My only hobby is tormenting mormons and playing practical jokes on those cursed with knowing me. Recently discovered I can use mormons to acheive the latter, too which was a source of great joy for my little heart, eagerly flapping it's chubby little wings in my chest. But like I said before, the hobby I'm looking for needs to be socially acceptable and this just doesn't quite cut it. It just doesn't make for good conversation material with those foolishly attempting to get to know me. In the interest of sparing my resting brain the strain it undergoes when I frantically scramble for some made-up hobbies upon being asked "so umm hey...what do you like to do?" I have decided to dedicate this coming week entirely to finding myself a hobby. Who knows, by next Saturday I could be a basketball enthusiast or an avid birdwatcher, maybe even a dedicated stamp collector with a vast interest in interior design. I shall attack this task with great vigor, I will be enthusiastic, energetic and organized. So organized in fact that I'm going to schedule an entire hour just to figure out where exactly to start my mission. I'm so excited already that I'm almost getting tired and ready to lay down.
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Well well well, it seems I have become guilty of completely forgetting about you, readers. But have no fear, I can kinda sorta promise this will not happen again. Now now, before you hastily assume that something has happened that caused me to forget my devoted fans (alright, not fans then), let me make you aware that nothing has happened. And by nothing, I mean nothing. Or as our filthy little friends south of the boarder might say: Nada.
I seem to recall that the last time the prophet spoke, (the prophet being me, dullard) said prophet was about to bare her testimony with the missionaries. Or lack thereof. I delved into the murky corners of my mind and pulled out all the things I'd been refridgerating in there since my voluntary brush with mormonism began. It turned out to be quite the pile of things of various degrees of lunacy. As Elders 1 and 2 politely knocked on my door 30 times in 1 second (it's gotta be some kind of record) for our "date" (I like to call them dates, as I have no life and no real dates to speak of), little did they know the hostile waters brewing on the other side of it. After we'd sat down and exchanged meaningful looks and softly whispered sweet nothings, I moved in for the kill. Suffice to say, the poor boys were flabbergasted for a lack of a better term. One of them, being the more intelligent one of the two, didn't seem to mind chatting with me about my doubts and reservations about the church and admitted to having had a few himself. Those doubts were of course terminated after the holy ghost set his heaving bosom permanently on fire, which I'll quietly doubt if there are no objections. Elder 2 however did not take my questions quite so lightly. After sitting hunched over on the couch through an hour of mine and Elder 1's friendly banter, staring at me misty eyed with his jaw hovering slightly above floor level, he suddenly seemed to snap and instantly started screaming. In true Texas style, he had obviously opted for volume at the expense of reason and I got to hear, rather loudly, about how he DOES NOT TEACH THAT. HE TEACHES ABOUT MORALITY, ABOUT PRAYER, ABOUT LOVING GOD AND YOUR NEIGHBOURS, ABOUT THE FIRST VISION...et cetera. This seemed to amuse Elder 1, confirming my secret suspicions that he's not entirely too fond of Elder 2. Elder 2 also tried to tell me that archeological evidence about places in the BoM (Book of Mormon) exists and the cities mentioned have been dug up. Not so, as it happens, and I told him this much to his utter dismay. I'm not quite sure whether he actually believes this or whether he was just lying to my face on the off chance I wouldn't have already researched it myself. My guess is the poor guy is just misled. I have found out since that a lot of mormons do in fact believe that this evidence exists, but in true Latter Day Saint style they have not the cojones to double check as knowledge is of the devil and the truth is to be feared more than a rabit pitbull with a machine gun. Stands to reason, after all if you're living a lie, truth becomes your worst enemy. I also found it rather amusing when I briefly touched on the hidden church doctrine that black people are black because they sinned in the "pre-existance". This was met with an enthusiastic "No!! That's a lie!! Some white racist southern asshole came up with that!!!" I unfortunately had not the heart to tell them that this was directly from the mouth of one Joseph F. Smith, the man upon whose word these poor misguided boys base their very existance.
Well, needless to say my efforts did not get them out of the church and we are not currently living happily together in a hut on some caribbean beach where they give me massages and I feed them grapes. And no, I haven't thought about it at all.
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