Billie Bowtrunckle (bowtrunckle) wrote,
Billie Bowtrunckle

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I've been verbally Ex-laxed

Lately I’ve been experiencing LJ constipation. Symptoms? Being completely devoid of anything to say about anything and feeling overwhelmed at the thought of thinking about anything else besides thinking about nothing and lurking like some guilty kleptomaniac hanging about the kid’s Christmas donation bin at Target. I blame work, work, work and the stress of shopping at Crate and Barrel at 2 pm on a Saturday (foolish, I know, but I had a gift certificate and an overwhelming urge for buttermilk waffles, which required a waffle maker that’s doesn’t predate Noah and the Arc with a peeling and probably carcinogenic non-stick layer). 
Anyway, it seems now my funk has magically lifted (maybe it was the waffles) and I can’t stop blabbing. How many comments did I leave yesterday? A lot. Diarrhea of the fingers had me all over the place, clicking on the friend button and frolicking through old communities, new-found communities, and communities I knew about vaguely, but was too much of a bonehead to join before. 
One of which is encycl_of_weird.  How how how did I forget to join this way back when kentawolf first mentioned she was putting it together? *lashes self with a wet noodle* If you haven’t already checked it out, you should. This entry was particularly amusing; the expression on Dean’s face is priceless XD! 
I don’t think I’ve giggled so much since … last week, which brings me to the next item on my blabby backlog list of inconsequential things to ramble about. :)
sadelyrate mentioned an occurrence where thoughts tangentially related to The Show popped into her head through, shall we say, “free association” *wink*, which reminded me of last week during church (shhh, it’s free association time so randomness is allowed). 
Let the following example be the yardstick (or meter stick if you prefer metric … and really the world should prefer metric because it makes more sense because really who knows how many inches are in a mile whereas everyone knows there are 100,000 cm in a km, which is yet another reason to push metrification in the US and also because of the big conversion booboo that resulted in the crispy-fried Mars orbiter; dude, how many people got fired over that?) to measure one’s descent into utter fangeekdom. Because if you got your husband or significant other to make blasphemous SPN wisecracks during church, you know you’re going to Hell in trouble.
Let me set the scene.
Soft lights. Poinsettias adorned with gold glitter. Heads bent in prayer or silent reflection. A bunch of kids with halos and shepherd’s staffs herded into a fidgety, tight cluster near the piano. Someone coughs then blows their nose. The seeing eye dog for the man in the wheelchair is licking itself (himself/herself? I didn’t really look because, you know, privacy).
I’m sitting there, wondering if the guy in the second row of the choir and five from the end is really Sideshow Bob because his hair is incredibly standy-uppish in that Sideshow Bob sort of way when my vision is obstructed by something big and white and with a finger in the middle of it. 
My husband has slid the white hymnal under my nose and is pointing to the lyrics “Joy to the World”. Instead of "Joy to the world the Lord has come" it’s written "Joy to the world the Word has come." 
I grin and whisper that it’s because we’re in a "Pagan" church and the word of God makes everyone flinch *snort*.  He leans down and says with a perfectly straight face if we're worshipping Pagan gods then maybe a couple of boys are hiding behind the pair of X-mas trees on either side of the alter, wielding pointy tree branches with bobbles on the ends. Then he wags his eyebrows and makes these tiny stabbing motions with his hymnal.
And I pretty much loose it in the middle of X-mas eve service while he stands there looking innocent. When people start staring he pretends to be appalled at the inappropriate laugh-choking noises coming from me.
When we reach the changed verse later in the service, he bends over and sings “LORD” instead of “WORD”. And not expecting hot, candy-cane scented breath in my ear, I flinch. LOL.
This is why I will likely end up playing poker with Meg!demon, the YED, and hopefully not Dean (ack, to take out the strikethrough or not? I’m conflicted!) in the toasty depths down under.  I'll be sure to bring marshmellows so I can play pudgy bunny with Dean an incredibly hot fictional character.  ;)

I hope everyone had a wonderful and safe holiday. Onto to good things 2008 holds! *hugs flist*
Tags: blasphemy, rl
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