Last weekend was probably the worst damn string of events ever to happen to me. Or at least the worst that could happen without anyone dying.
But I learned something.
And it really wasn't "worth it". (How is "worth it" determined anyway?)
Friday night, for reasons I don't feel like discussing, I had to attend a high school football game. This involved 3 things I really fucking hate.
Outside.
Football.
Teenagers.
Some people are sexist. Some people are homophobic. Some people are elitist. Some people are racist.
Buffie is teen-ist.
I think that's a made-up word, but I don't know the real word for a person who hates teenagers as much as I do. Even when I was one, I hated it. You know why I hated it? Because of other teenagers.
I've said this before, but I'd rather face off with all of the Taliban on a bad turban day than have to spend 5 minutes with a person between the ages of 13 and 19.
Is it wrong of me to think like that? Yeah.
But you know what was MORE wrong??? How those fucking bastards treated me when I was a kid. So I feel like I have bloody earned the right to hate teenagers. I have also earned the right to hate frat pukes and other people who generally behave badly in public and in the presence of a fat person. All of them can go eat a scoop full of rat turds.
There were thousands of the sons of bitches there. One screamed in my face, completely unprovoked, and thought it was funny. Mr. Buffie considered knocking him the fuck out for a moment but thought better of it, what with the possibly going to the jail for the assault and all.
Poor Mr. Buffie. I practically rode him piggy-back all the way through the crowd. He had to hold onto both of my hands to assure himself I wouldn't randomly start smacking the ones who got too close to me.
You'd be proud of me though. I survived an entire 30 minutes before making a wild dash to the car and I didn't hit, poke, choke, kick, trip, shoot or shove a single one of them. I might have maybe kinda sorta perhaps accidentally shoulder checked a couple, but hey... you get in my space, I'll get in yours. Turn about is fair play, yes?
Mostly fair play.
They shoulder check me with a wimpy little piece of shit teen shoulder. I shoulder check back mad-fat-chick style and teen asshole spins like a top. I win! hee hee
Did I mention I have had bronchitis for two solid weeks? At the time I didn't know it was a flare up of bronchitis. I thought I was just really effing sick with the cold from hell and my mood was certainly not improved through abuse of NyQuil and obscene amounts of hot tea and whiskey. So let's add that to the weekend I hope goes down in history as the worst there ever was.
That sums up my Friday night.
Saturday I spent in a stupor, tissues shoved up my nostrils and a pillow over my face wishing for all the congestion in my head and chest to either turn to sand or explode and end my misery.
Lying down was completely futile because all the fluid nastiness in me made it impossible to breathe, meaning I got about 3 hours of actual sleep Saturday night.
Then there were the convulsive coughing fits that shook the foundation of my house and made me feel like I would literally pull the Kleenex away from my mouth only to see a chunk of my lung on it.
Now the sickness and the teenagers were really quite enough to make my weekend a total waste of time but ... unfortunately ... that wasn't all.
Guess what I got to do Sunday morning??!!
Wake up early.
Isn't that cute? A foul, snarling, snorting swamp beast being jerked out of slumber after only 3 hours of sleep.
Guess why!!?!?
To go to CHURCH!
Know what happens when you wake up a grumpy, ill, atheist, put her in uncomfortable "church" clothes and make her sit through the most awkward and dreary two hours of "I done so wrong and Jeeesus is pissed but he loves me anyways 'n I shure don't deserve it, oh Lawd, can you puhleeze fergive me and now let me sing to you some of the most depressing music you'll ever hear"?????
My Sunday. That's what you get.
I never understood why someone would be "militant" about something. That's why, even though I feel the way I do about religion, I would never ever in a million billion years have considered becoming a militant atheist.
Well, now I get it. I SOOOO totally get it.
Militant atheists probably don't get invited to church by their friends and family.
The dear people who invited us to church on this particular day, they mean the world to me. This certain day was extra special for one of them and they said it was so important to them for us to be there.
These same dear people asked me point blank, back in 2001, what church I attended. I politely explained I didn't. They wanted to know why. So I told them why. They said, "oh, that's alright, everyone is different."
I took that to mean they understood how I felt about church. I felt confident that I had explained my position on religion. For all I knew, on that day, it was made perfectly clear that myself and these wonderful people had different upbringings, different views and we were still cool with each other.
But over 8 years and a number of denied requests to attend church later... I'm starting to wonder if they didn't get the point.
Both of them were made aware back in 2001 that I was not looking for God but if I ever changed my mind, they'd be the first to know. Both of them assured me there would be no pressure. No attempts to convert me.
For the most part, they've stuck to that agreement. However, I have to wonder. Why keep inviting me to church???
It isn't like something happens there that a person like me wouldn't experience in Jesus-free settings. If I want to hear weepy awful music sang by a pleasant but off-key group of seniors in robes, I would go to a nursing home and host a singin-in-the-shower karaoke contest.
(BTW, why does there always have to be that one church lady who thinks she missed her calling to be on the stage of an opera as the star soprano and now she takes it out on everyone else in the church choir?) Whhaaaaaaaaaaaa Jeeeeeesssssuuuuuuuussssssss whaaaaaaaaaooooooaaaaa!!!!! Haaaaalllll-aaaaaaa-llllllooooooo-yyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! *BANG* (That's me, shooting myself in the ear.)
If I wanted coffee and donuts before a meeting where people cry, I would join a group therapy session that takes morning appointments.
If I wanted to sit in an uncomfortable chair while someone stands in front of me telling me how I do bad shit but they love me anyway, I'd go home, do something to piss off my mum then perch on a stool covered in thumb-tacks and listen to her chew my ass.
If I wanted to have my already suffering sinuses be put through torture by the smell of old, mothballs, furniture polish, dried flowers and too much stanky perfume, I'd visit Hobby Lobby on senior discount day on a July afternoon when the store a/c isn't working.
See? No church needed to experience any of the same church-things and I can do all of that shit minus Jesus stories... which in my opinion don't make a damn bit of sense anyway.
I don't know what Jesus really said. He didn't write any of that stuff in the bible. Other people did. And just as sure as I'm relating to you now the wretched things I went through this past weekend, if Mr. Buffie wrote the same story (cuz he was there through it all) I fucking assure you, his spin would be different than mine. So why should I have to trust what other uneducated people wrote down about shit they didn't understand in a time when there was no scientific thought put into much of anything and read a version of it that has been translated who-the-fuck-knows how many times by people who may or may not have been sticklers for accuracy and believe it's not only true but the like pinnacle of all truth in life? Uhm, no thanks.
Hey, if YOU wanna believe it, do it. More power to you. Oh please be my guest. And believe it with all your heart. Just don't ask me to believe it with you. Besides, your faith isn't affected by how I think, so don't worry about what is going to happen to my soul when I die. I'm not.
Now these people who invite me to church on a not-infrequent basis, they're usually rather understanding (as they should be) when I say no. They kind of make a squishy face and pretend to have momentarily forgotten the whole "Buffie doesn't do Jesus" thing. But lo and behold, they'll invite me again in another 6 months and we go through the confounded awkward mess all over again.
This one time though... I thought dammit, maybe they'll leave me the hell alone if I go just this once, and it should count in spades since it's a special occasion and all. Maybe this will make them happy and it'll be over with. I can consider it my good deed for the DECADE.
But no. No, no, no. Not not but no. Hell to tha no.
Now that I've gone this one time to appease them, I've been invited to come back by all the nice people there and even my dear (and I really don't say that sarcastically, I freaking love these people) friends (they're actually family) are inviting me again.
Listen, friends (technically relatives, but whatever, I consider you friends, too)... I adore you. I truly do. You're two of my favorite people in this whole world and I'd do damn near anything for you. Shit, I have gone to church for you. I'd almost rather set myself on fire than go to church, so appreciate that gesture for what it was. But ya gotta get it through your heads. This isn't something I care to repeat. Ever. I told you before, if I change my mind, I'll be all up in yer churchin. But that day hasn't come and if I were you, I wouldn't hold my breath.
I know you two love Jesus and I am positive Jesus loves ya right back. I realize church is a huge part of your lives, but it isn't the ONLY life you have. Like it or not, we're family. That means I'm part of your lives, too. And you're both a big part of mine. A part I love and cherish. We do tons of stuff together and we have a blast and the other stuff we do doesn't make one of us horrendously uncomfortable. Can't we just keep doing those things? Why does it have to be church?
Tell you what, if you're going to insist on inviting me to church, I'm going to start inviting you to blues concerts and burlesque shows. I know loud music and scantily clad chicks shaking their asses isn't your thing but tit for tat, hey?
I'll even trade you one for one. For every time you go to a dive bar or a nudie show with me, I'll go to a meeting of the God Squad with you. Fair?
Getting my point now?
That's what I thought.
Since being a militant atheist isn't really my style, I'll just return your church invitations with requests for you to join me for cheeseburgers at the
Shady Lady or I'll ask you to a
Rumblejetts show.
Because I know you two love naked tits and raucous jams as much as I love bible time. (Holy shit! This blog is long.)
In the end, I learned that if only my weekend had more strippers, beer and rockabilly music, and less teens and apostles, it probably wouldn't have sucked such a huge bag of dicks.
