From Liberace…

Mary and I should not be allowed to sit next to each other at Mass. Because there is usually too much to laugh over, and then it just gets inappropriate.

So, book update! I still think I would be totally okay just using my own Bible in replacement of the NSRV one. I’d probably have to work harder at finding citations, but I could probably figure it out. Not really an issue, though, because Mary I had a stroke of genius and did a library search for all of my books. And guess what? SEVEN of them are available from my local library. I am thrilled. It will be kind of complicated, because sometime in November I’ll have to return everything and check it out again, but it has the potential to save me HUNDREDS of dollars. Half of me is like, “Well, but what if someone else orders them? THEN WHAT STUPID PERSON?” And half of me is like, “Shut up, now we don’t have to take up stripping.”

Guess which half is winning?

This means I may actually be able to pay cash for everything and not have to max out my credit line, which would be amazing because I kind of totally have to do that next semester after the lovely familial gifts run out. But I’m not going to think about that! Not ever! *grins wildlly in denial*

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I need to hang out with more religious studies majors.

Finally it looks like all of my books have at least been ordered, if they aren’t already in the bookstore. Of course, it isn’t the bookstore that’s easy to get to, with a parking lot RIGHT THERE, but the one on the edge of campus and isn’t nearly as pretty but also doesn’t have distractingly cute sweatshirts (okay, they’re few and far between, but if you look hard you can find some) that you can’t buy because you are totally broke, so I guess it evens out.

This, obviously, allows me to kind of figure out how much they’re going to be, and then do a quick internet search for “pimps” because mama needs another job STAT.

It actually doesn’t look too bad- most are relatively inexpensive. Using the highest amazon prices I could find and rounding up, most of them only come to about $375. Three I couldn’t find online, but even allowing about $50 for each, it’s still less than $550, which is what I was kind of figuring.

Except one thing. My Hebrew studies class as five books. FIVE. I’m not even JEWISH, for God’s (or rather, Christ’s) sake!!! My Ireland class (which I am ancestrally tied to) only has two.

My issue- two of the five are Bibles. I have a bunch of Bibles already. The first required book is a Jewish Bible, so I’m guessing that one would be a little bit different (probably notsomuch on the Resurrection), but the second one is the NSRV. It’s not allowed for liturgical use, but the USCCB even approved it for study. So how different would that be from my New American Bible? Could I not just follow along? I mean, I already know the major plot points. And it would save me probably around $30, which would be a major spiritual blessing.

I need a theology major roommate. It would make book shopping so much easier.

Wakeup with Morena.

It’s really early. And Morena is not amused.

I was going to get up and go to Mass this morning, which isn’t the part I’m annoyed with. I wanted to, 7:30 really isn’t that early, I could, in theory, go to the church closer to my house that is later if I didn’t have an irrational aversion to all churches but mine and feel like they were playacting the Mass, blah blah.

No, my issue is with the fact that I could get NO sleep last night. It was eleventy jillion degrees in my bedroom (and we know I can’t open the windows and let in all those serial killer hacker people who are TOTALLY waiting in my front yard, confounded only by our cheap windows), and I slept probably like an hour. At least until quarter after five, when I fell asleep.

You can imagine that when my alarm went off at 5:45 I really could care less about the American Heart Association’s recommended daily exercise advisement. They, frankly, could go screw themselves.

Of course, my lovely little graduated alarm thing doesn’t turn off that easily and woke me up for good nine minutes later, by which point someone who shall remain nameless announced they were going out in public without brushing their teeth and then, well, after that the nausea kept me away.

So. I’m going to go shower my unellipticalled self and BRUSH MY TEETH BECAUSE I AM A CIVILIZED HUMAN BEING.

Have a lovely morning.

Because you really need *more* information about my life.

No, clearly Facebook is too demure. The never ending spout of stuff you never really needed to know about another person that is this blog, modest. Because now! Now I have Twitter! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, linked on the sidebar, you can see what I’m up to. Or you could get it yourself and we could talk! Without picking up the phone! Or even Facebook messaging! Because clicking that little “compose message”, oh, so much work.

You may now begin to mock mercilessly.

Also found a lovely new template on some website that I’m pretty sure infected my computer with a virus. But look at the pretty coffee cup!

***

I’ll bet you’re all, like, dying to know what’s going on with the washer, right? I know I was.

Luckily for my dignity and immortal soul, I did not have to proposition the repair guy. Within moments he was like, “Um, yeah, I think you have something caught in the pipe.” Sure enough, there was what used to be a sock stuck in the drainage pipe, thus illuminating the mystery of where all those socks really do go. They get sucked into the machine and then result in a costly home visit! That’s where!!!

Got it out, it’s working fine, and I even did a load of towels. And then said a rosary in thanks. I even refrained from correcting the repairman’s grammar, even under my breath, because I felt as though he were operating on my baby.

And also I’m not a huge awful person. Well. Not all the time.

You never think it’s going to happen to you.

So you know my reason for living washing machine? The beautiful, wonderful, ginormous machine that makes my life so much easier?

Yeah. It’s broken.

During a cycle this morning it started making HORRIFIC noises, noises that were not made to come from a washing machine. I ran out of the bathroom where I was straightening my hair (This, let me tell you, was an interesting sight. Half the head was already blown out and in two separate pigtails, and the other half was wet and frizzy. I looked lovely. Shocking that I’m not in a relationship, right?) and threw myself at it, possibly screaming and crying and begging God that if He lets this stop I will totally sacrifice my firstborn son, or, you know, a lamb or something look, I’m not sure what You’re into now, Catholics pretty much let the whole Old Testament thing slide.

It stopped making the noise. I went back to my hair.

Ten minutes later, John announces that, um, maybe there’s water? All over the floor?

Oh. Shit. I huddled in the corner rocking back and forth thinking of my happy place (which, incidentally, includes CLEAN TOWELS).

Not actually that huge a deal, because for some reason this week our family is fairly brimming with washing machines that aren’t being used. Or, I could, I supposed, venture back to the laundromat.

Which actually just makes me think about the Norman invasion of England and the Crusades because I spent the entire time sitting there studying for my history midterm. So now when I think about communal washers I think about Innocent III. 🙂

ETA: Apparently somebody will be over tomorrow. “Now, that doesn’t mean that it will be fixed tomorrow,” my mother warned. Oh. Oh, it will be fixed. If I have to offer inappropriate favors and possibly threats against his family, it will be fixed.

ETA 2: Goodbye to Mickey! And Spawn of Mickey! You other two readers will really have to step it up in the comments section the next few days.

Attention all Gentlemen…

…I have found my engagement ring. Anyone who may in the future consider proposing? I’d like this ring. Just so you know.

And I also really want this one because oh! So old! And pretty! And medieval! And I’d love to walk around with an amethyst ring from 1450!

I’ve decided that from now on, all my jewelry must be vintage pre-1750. So, shop accordingly for Christmas.

That is all.

Last Night, on Mad Men

Last Sunday of Lent:

Peggy: Y hello thar, Father.

Fr. Colin Hanks: *is adorable* Help me with my sermon? I’m totes scared.

Peggy: Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?

Peggy’s sister: *smolders*

Meanwhile, at the Draper’s: There is sex. A lot of sex.

Palm Sunday:

Peggy’s Sister: Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago and OMG MY SISTER IS A BIG WHORE. Seriously. FILTHY WHORE, UNDESERVING OF YOUR “FRIENDSHIP”. She seduced a married man and EVERYTHING. And, oh, I’m angry about it. Um, yeah, that’s my sin, being angry. That’s totally why I’m here and it has nothing to do with my unsatisfying marriage.

Fr. Colin Hanks: *pouts* *is still adorable, even while pouting* Okay. Say three Hail Marys and two Our Fathers. *woe*

Meanwhile, at the Draper’s: There is spousal abuse. And makeup sex.

Easter Sunday:

Peggy: Hi! I’m adorable and wholesome and ogling me is in no way a sin at all!

Fr. Colin Hanks: *still adorably pouting* Here. Have an egg. For your FILTHY LOVE CHILD that is apparently a bigger impediment to our awkward silences and meaningful stares than my vows. *woe*

Peggy: What? Wait. Have you been talking to my sister?

Fr. Colin Hanks: DO NOT SPEAK TO ME WHORE. I’m going to go pout for our relationship that now can never be because you drunkenly slept with someone.

Meanwhile, at the Draper’s: Well, we don’t know what happened at the Draper’s, because the episode ended with the pouting. But I’m guessing there was sex. Those two are like rabbits.

So, all I can say is that if you’re not watching already you TOTALLY SHOULD BE.

That is all.