Jesus and the Daves

Just returned from a birthday visit to my Mother which is always an experience.  Experience One involved me having to attend the burial and small funeral service for half a dead mouse she found in the garden.  The ARSE end of the dead mouse at that.  My cousin's cat has recently gone to live with her and despite the evidence being a bit on the circumstantial side, he is the prime suspect.  In fact, not so much a suspect but the official guilty party.  No trial, no witnesses, no nothing - just half a corpse.

The other observation I have involves her TV.  She has about 4 different remote controls and it drives me crazy as I can never work out which one does what!  I don't even know why she bothers; the TV is always set to some US Crime channel and she just watches CSI (NY, Vegas and the dreadful Miami one - how did that ginger arse David Caruso ever get work? He looks like his eyes have been sewn in with red thread, he over acts in a comedy mean and moody way - but he believes it, and is a thoroughly unlikeable person.  Out of the 3 in the franchise, his is the shittest by far), NCIS, Law and Order and god, other similar shows all night EVERY night.  I actually found myself appreciating them, even the one's I'd seen the previous night and knew what was going to happen, and that's why I could never go back there to live permanently.  I might just give up on rational thought in order to sit with an anaesthetised brain watching made up crime.  At least I'll know if someone is poisoning me with Selenium - I'll have horrendous garlic breath. 

...and so to THE conversation.  Before I continue, I have to advise that whilst I love my extended family, they can be very judgemental, mocking and erm.....I won't beat around the bush - EVIL.  I had mentioned to my Mother that I hadn't been feeling very unwell and my (cough) lady internal bits seemed a bit sluggish and, being the hypochondriac that I am, I was assuming I was terminally ill. 

Mother:  You aren't PREGNANT are you?
Me: Well, he hasn't performed that one since Bethlehem actually Mother.

That brief exchange made me reflect and once I again I got lost in bizarre and unnatural thoughts.  I did think that if the Lord was going to pick someone to carry the new Messiah, she'd at least have to be a genuine virgin and not someone who's basically become 're-virginated' due to the very real fact she can't get any!  I then thought about me having a new Messiah and how 'the family' would behave.  Of course, they wouldn't be supportive or believing.  They'd mock us both.  They'd laugh behind our backs and question why he was wearing a dress, take the piss out of his sandals and whisper about his decision to hang about with 12 other guys.  They'd make snippy comments that his hair was too long and that his beard would look like he'd got a vagina stuck to his face.  In fact, his secret family nickname would be 'fanny-face'.  See, I know my family, have heard the stuff they've said about people and know that this would be the way.  No Messiah, new or old would survive my family without ending up with a whole bucket full of neuroses and paranoia's.  My cousin and I have discussed this at length and know that we've gone wrong.  We've only survived by doing strange things for our own amusement and by small acts of evil here and there.  We both know this.  We both know that we're never right.  For fuck sake, she PUNCHED a baked potato and doesn't even know why!  I pissed everywhere at work once 'cause I had to find out whether incontinence pads really worked (they don't.  Well, they do for drips but not for the entire contents of a full adult bladder) In fact LINK to story.

So, in conclusion, I worry for the fate of mankind if I was forced to be the re-virgin mother to the new Messiah. 

Finally, I had a gig in the week and suspect I'd travelled into the world of the strange.  All I knew is that the promotor was called Dave and I only had a sketchy idea of what he looked like.  My cousin and I went into the pub and found a bloke sitting at the bar in the lounge area. 

Cousin Lisa: Hi, we're looking for Dave

Bloke: Oh, I think you'll find him in the bar.

(we duly went next door into the other bar room.  When we got there we discovered that the bar was the same one for the lounge and this bar with one elderly guy serving both rooms.  We could see the first bloke from where we were.

Cousin Lisa (to ancient barman): Hi, we're looking for Dave

Ancient Barman (shouting through to the first bloke): Dave, have you seen Dave?

First Bloke: No, I thought he was in there with you!

(Enter another bloke)

Ancient Barman: You alright Dave?

(Lisa and I perk up our ears)

Ancient Barman to this Dave: Dave, have YOU seen Dave?

Dave: No, dunno where he is...

...and that's how it went.  We did find the correct Dave in the end but the situation made me wonder why all the other Daves didn't just assume they were the Dave we wanted.  Do they spend their family lives never thinking anyone requires them?  As for the gig, it was at a venue I'd never played before.  The set went quite well actually with plenty of audience participation despite the MC quietly whispering an apology to me for killing the atmosphere in the room prior to my set.  Cousin Lisa filmed the set and I might even put it up on YouTube if I can be arsed.  I'll be sure to post a link if I do!

Sweaty Jesus

Years ago someone bought me a Jesus soap on a rope for reasons best known to themselves. For reasons best known to MYself, a few years ago I cut off the rope and stuck googly eyes to it rendering the yellow soap Jesus permanently shocked. I think I even used it to menace someone remotely by telling them that Soap Jesus was watching them and very disappointed. Well, I'm sort of not Christian but I still can't bring myself to throw Soap Jesus away (just in case) so it just sits in my room by the telly. As I was passing I noticed he was all wet and was sort of 'sweating'. Is this an omen. Is this THE Omen? Should I tell some Christians that their deity is sweating as a lesson to them all? I'm guessing that if I did that some fucked up radical group would blame the gays or women priests. They'd conveniently forget about all the paedo priests or the Nuns in the Magdalen Homes who were allegedly (dunno if it's officially allegedly or if I can take it as fact at this point) evil to their charges. No, apparently God and whoever else only get angry by gays and women priests for some reason. This is one of the reasons I can't be arsed with religion.

I think I'll just ignore sweaty Soap Jesus. If he's got a message then he's going to have to think of a better way of communicating with me. For Chrissake (?) he's supposed to be Christ and I guess he's supposed to have an iota of omnipotence so should just sit down and think about his communication skills before he sweats all over a person.

Other than my really rather ridiculous rant about something or nothing I have to confess that I nearly had a proper tantrum at work today which shocked my 'mental health' work colleague pal(remember her? We are almost like twins when it comes to paranoia, hypochondria and over thinking). I'd been out all day and simply walked through the door only to hear "Ah, Sket's just come into the office, I'll put you through." A simple thing but I really rather forgot myself and had an inappropriate tantrum 'cause I didn't want to talk to anyone. There were biscuits which weren't going to eat themselves in that room and I had to TALK to someone? I did though and Mental Health Colleague (MHC) found it hysterical that I'd had a proper tantrum which included bad language and childish pouting/near stamping of feet. The only thing I was able to control was my usual trick of throwing myself to the floor and pretending to be dead when I don't want to do something.

...my friend Nigel spoiled that for me when he proved to be immune to the whole pretending to be dead thing by dragging me by one arm across the floor and making me go running with him a few years back.

After the tension had been broken by the laughter of my colleagues over my behaviour I could do little else but to show my disapproval by doing a couple of over dramatic star jumps and a lunge in the middle of the office. I would have lifted my dress over my head and showed everyone everything I've got as an act of defiance and disrespect, only I've seen myself naked and I wouldn't want to be the cause of a mass outbreak of vomiting and mental instability.

It's a shame for me. I hope I'm not going to be punished now 'cause of the Jesus stuff at the beginning. Heck, I'm always being punished. Let's see what happens tomorrow, eh?