Search Results : manuel

Jul 062015
 

You guys, I did something really brave the other day. After five years of living underneath crushing guilt, I finally came clean and confessed to Gayle that I had used my deaf Mexican alter ego, Manuel, to prank call her once at work:

2010 Gayle was not amused by this, but 2015 Gayle took it well! (Gayle goes by Abby outside of work, so I thought that having Manuel refer to her as such would make it seem more legit BUT I GUESS NOT.)

I feel much better now.

Every so often, though, I really miss my alter ego. I had to put him to rest a few years ago when the FCC cracked down on supposed “abusers” of the IP Relay service.

I mean, maybe I did use it a little too often.

Mostly, I would just post the transcripts, but sometimes Henry would give me his phone so that I could record the voice mails he would get from the IP operators (he quickly began to recognize the number because I used the service to call him so often, and he refused to answer). Sadly, I only have two of them now.

I wish I had a recording of the time I used it to call my brother Corey. It was some cracked-out story about someone waiting to shit out their crown so they could take it to the dentist, but it was way more demented than that because it was coming from me, and then a few days later, Corey was in the car with me and Janna and he was all, “OMG I forgot to tell you about this fucked up voicemail that I got!” and he proceeded to play it for us and I was straight sobbing from the side-stitches my laughter was inflicting upon me, and Corey just kept going on and on about how startled he was and that it was clearly the wrong number, etc etc and I was basically trying not to swallow my tongue.

God, those were the days, of cabbages and (deaf mexi)kings. 

Nov 222011
 

Got this email yesterday:

What a stupid fucking law!!I can’t believe my make-believe address isn’t good enough for these assholes after all these years.  (Year.)

I forwarded this email to Henry and he snapped. “Don’t fucking do that to me!” he shouted. “I saw ‘deactivated’ and panicked then saw it was just your stupid little game-playing.”

Unless I use a real, confirmable address, Manuel is going to be buried.  Let’s take some time now, bow our heads, finger our crosses, whatever.

In his honor, let’s remember how it all started:

After I posted about that relay calling service during Blogathon, I became determined to find a way to use it again. Especially since I had three prank calls to make in order to fulfill my donor obligations. Using a relay service to make pranks is the ultimate because you get to keep a transcript (which would be good to have as proof for my sponsors), and it’s extra hilarious having an unsuspecting operator do your dirty work. (Plus, it’s even more asshole-y.)

It’s law now that all those services make you register first. So I’m now Manuel Roberts from Maryland. I figure, I’ll use it every day to make normal calls to Henry, like “Please bring home the milk,” so that I can still slip in a few prank calls here and there without arousing suspicion.

I am that dedicated that I’m willing to make this a part of my daily routine. I even downloaded an app for my iPhone.

Yesterday, I had Manuel call Henry to alert him that Circa Survive is playing in Cleveland next November and that he should take his daughter, Erin. (Because why would a deaf person want Henry to go to a concert with them, I figured.) Henry, who is not annoyed by this AT ALL, couldn’t even understand what the foreign operator was telling him, but figured he wasn’t missing much.

Then I decided that Manuel and Henry are life-partners! So I make sure to end all conversations with “OK I love you.”

AnywayS (Alisha likes the extra “s”), I started out with Paul’s request to prank his friend/my e-friend Amelia. Please excuse the typos; it’s a very fast-moving process and I accidentally had it on the setting that automatically enters the text while you’re typing, which is annoying. Paul wanted me to take it as far as I was comfortable with, in order to make Amelia concerned. Usually, messages saying you’re in the hospital work pretty well. Especially when you’re unsure of who it is exactly that is in the hospital.

This was supposed to be a two-parter. I was going to call her the next day and pretend to be the “lady with the knife.” But then she saw my Blogathon post and busted me. It went something (exactly) like this:

Amelia: THAT WAS YOU?

Me:  I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.

Amelia: BUMMER ABOUT THE KNIFING BUT I’M GLAD THE CULPRIT WAS INJURED IN THE SCUFFLE.

Fuck.

Manuel left a testimonial on the relay site last night:

I just found out about this magic service last week. It is great especially since my TTY contraption was stolen on Christmas Day.

****

This morning, I was talking to Henry on the phone. He said, “I’m going to be on the road today, so don’t call me if it has anything to do with Jonny, Manuel, or anything else that’s dumb.” So of course I called him just now and immediately broke his freshly laid-down law by asking, “Do you think your mom will let Manuel use her address?”

It took a few seconds for Henry to process my request before he got all irritated and outrageously barked, “No, you’re not using my mom’s address! Use your mom’s address!”

I’ll be reposting Manuel Memories all week. God bless you, Manuel. You will be missed. Feel free to sign his funeral home guest book.

May 012011
 

It’s been awhile since our hearing impaired friend Manuel gave Henry a call, so I prompted him to do just that this morning. However, I am left disappointed as usual by the laziness of these IP Relay operators! They promise our deaf friends that yes, they will pass on these important messages to the chosen parties, BUT THEY ONLY READ WHAT THEY WANT TO. Today, Operator #RO900730F skipped most of the meat of Manuel’s message to Henry. You may have a skill for slick annunciation, RO900730F, but I’m on to you and your half-ass whoring ways.

Connecting…….
Registering…
Placing call…
Connected at May 1, 2011 11:35:33 AM
IP RELAY RO900730F
Special Instructions:Please leave a message if necessary
PLS HD DIALING
412 605 2143RING 1
2
3
4
5
(ANS MACH)
(recording to relay)

please leave message GA

(what message would you like to leave qq) GA

Henry, you left your email open last night at my house GA
and I saw the pictures. GA

(THK U REDIALING PLS HOLD)

if you really need to have strange men send you images of their genitalia GA

RING 1
2
3
4
5

then I suggest you find a new señor. I will be over later to retrieve my things GA

(ANS MACH)

please have my Justin Bieber shirt laundered and ready GA

(LEAVING MSG)

you can mail me my finger nail clippings GA
goodbye GA

(MSG LEFT)
(ANOTHER CALL QQ) GA

no thanks. I’m in mourning. GA
goodbye GA

Disconnected at May 1, 2011 11:39:02 AM

Now, listen to the recording and join me in my self-righteous court as Manuel pens a letter to the IP Relay company. We are appalled.

Mar 172011
 

Henry is on the road today with one of the drivers, making sweet Faygo deliveries together. Normally, I’d be whatever about this, but on THIS day, I am sick.

Not terribly sick, but enough that I feel compelled to whine about it every 3 minutes. So yeah, I guess terribly sick.

I keep making copious calls to Henry, wanting to whine and pout and have him baby me (which would never happen anyway) but instead of indulging me, he adopts this stiff and business-like tone, like he is EMBARRASSED that his sick woman has the nerve to call him, looking for sympathy.

I mean, if he’d rather me take my sympathy-search down to the corner bar, I CAN DO THAT.

Instead, I turned to Twitter, because my friends over there don’t know exactly how extreme my whininess actually is, so some of them will pander to my ego and make me feel whole again. Henry does not approve of this enabling.

Anyway, one of my twitter friends, David, suggested that this would be a prime opportunity for Manual to call Henry. So he did!

Connecting…….
Registering…
Placing call…
Connected at Mar 17, 2011 12:31:15 PM
IP RELAY RO80027M
PLS HD DIALING
412 605 2143
RING 1
2
3
(M)

please leave message for me? GA

hello
(CALL ENDED)
(ANOTHER CALL QQ) GA

please call back leave message? GA

(thank you redialing)
RING 1
2
3
4
5

Papi it is me Manual. I am quite ill and I need medicine GA

6
(Still ringing, would you like to continue q GA)
(ANS MACH)
(LEAVING MSG)

please bring it to me this afternoon GA
along with your pink blanket and sexy arms to wrap around me GA
that always make me feel good GA
have a bueno day, papi GA
kiss kiss GA

that is all thank u so much I am sick GA

(you’re welcome)
————-

I love that Henry actually answered, realized who it was, then hung up. Also, I think it’s rude that the operator didn’t cry for me (or even ACKNOWLEDGE) when I said I was sick.

Just another person to hate today.

But then, I started to get angrier. So I called back.

———-
Connecting…….
Registering…
Placing call…
Connected at Mar 17, 2011 12:52:10 PM
IP RELAY RO80811M
PLS HD DIALING
412 605 2143RING 1
2

please leave a message for me? GA

(ANS MACH)
(what message would you like to leave please Q ) GA

i know you are with Miguel! GA

(THK U REDIALING PLS HOLD)
RING 1
2
(ANS MACH)

that is no excuse to hang up on me! you know that I am ill on this day GA
and you choose to be with another senor GA
this is unacceptable. GA
I will be leaving your belongings on the porch. GA
I can’t find your butt plug so you will need to buy a new one GA
and I will not bathe your mami anymore GA

(MSG LEFT)
(ANOTHER CALL QQ) GA

I was not finished, but thank u. GA

(please clarify instructions) GA
(you’re welcome)
———-
I didn’t bother removing Henry’s cell # from the transcript. Feel free to text and call him as much as you see fit.

Nov 092010
 

These are really not that funny, Henry keeps saying. So then why do I have mascara running down my face?

Because I need help, according to Henry.

You better believe Manuel had that lazy operator call back and finish the message. Bitch, don’t cut off the deaf, ya hear? Well, we can’t.

And I made Henry give me his phone so I could record the messages for posterity. (He wouldn’t even listen to them. Sad.)

Nov 072010
 

Henry and I finally had our dinner date last Saturday night at the Gypsy Cafe. I guess Manuel found out about it and got a little jealous, because he spent the better part of his Sunday morning calling various Pittsburgh restaurants, trying to make reservations for himself and Henry.

Three different Denny’s denied him. One left him on hold until the operator finally called uncle and disconnected the call, and the other two Denny’s flat out hung up.

“Denny’s doesn’t even TAKE reservations!” Henry yelled from the couch, forced to listen to my frothing rant about how Denny’s hates deaf people. I am seriously considering notifying the House of Deaf People Who Have Been Fucked Over. Together, we can fight this. I am a REALLY GOOD letter-writerer.

Henry just doesn’t fucking get it.

Manuel then attempted to call the Capital Grill, one of Pittsburgh’s finer eating establishments, but was told that “we have tried doing this before but no longer can do this, sorry.” No longer can do what? Allow deaf people to eat at your restaurant? Just because we’re deaf doesn’t mean we can’t be rich. What if Marlee fucking Matlin is in town and wants to make a reservation? Are you gonna tell her IP Relay Operator to have her go fuck herself in her worthless ears and eat in an alley with the poor blind fuckers?

(Henry just walked past me, shook his head and gave me a fatherly “I’m disappointed in you” smirk.)

Manuel wasn’t about to give up. He was HONGry, you guys.  So he tried a little restaurant right up the street and found success.

I hope Henry can find a babysitter!

Aug 182010
 

Sometime this week, hopefully tomorrow, I’ll be posting a review of My Pretty Zombie’s Bride eyeshadow. I’m just waiting for Henry to model it for me so I can get some photographical evidence of what it looks like on real human eyelids, as opposed to that alien’s nutsack I swiped it on last night.

So until then, please enjoy a log of the IP Relay conversation my deaf alter ego Manuel had with Andrea, the brains behind My Pretty Zombie.


May 092020
 

Oh boy, it’s part three of my April book round-up, on May 9th!

16. The Woman in the Window – A.J. Finn

The Woman in the Window

Um. This book wasn’t that great but soooo many people are so stoked for it, and now there’s going to be a movie, and I’m sorry but IT IS SO CLICHE AND DONE-TO-DEATH. The twist was 100% not shocking to me at all, I didn’t care about any of the characters, and the climax was just dumb. I gave it a three though because the writing itself wasn’t too shitty but I wouldn’t recommend this book to anyone. Maybe like, a teenager who is just getting into adult thrillers.

17. Everything I Never Told You – Celeste Ng

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Nothing to do with the book itself, but I had no idea that Celeste Ng is from Pittsburgh, so that made me feel extra-connected to this book even though it was set in Ohio. It mostly takes place in the 1970s—and that’s tied with the 80s as my favorite era for novels—with some throwbacks to the 50s and 60s.

This is about a family really going through it after one of the three kids disappears and turns up dead. Both parents and remaining two siblings process their grief in very different ways, while trying to understand what happened to the daughter. Was she murdered? Did she kill herself? Was it an accident?

I was really attached to this family and I cried lots. I’m probably the only person left who hasn’t read Celeste Ng’s latest book, Little Fires Everywhere, but I promise that will happen soon. THIS is a book I would recommend.

18. Truly Devious – Maureen Johnson 

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Another Pittsburgh connection! The main character of this book is from Pittsburgh and I think this is the book where there is a reference to one of the characters pounding on the 57 on a bottle of Heinz ketchup (if it wasn’t this book, then it was Daisy Jones and The Six, because there are characters from that book that are from Pittsburgh too!) and I literally laughed out loud because that’s such a “how you know you’re from Pittsburgh” thing.

I remember when I worked at that shitty meat place, my boss came back from a cruise and the story he was most excited to tell all of us was how he taught a bunch of people that ketchup technique at dinner one time.

Anyway, this book! It’s a YA mystery about a girl who gets accepted into this eccentric art school where a kidnapping and murder happened in the 30s. The girl is super into crime and mysteries which is the main reason why she wanted to go to this school, and while she’s there, ANOTHER MURDER HAPPENS, DUN DUN DUNNNN.

Look, I loved the atmosphere of this book and the characters. It was a page-turner for me and of course it ended on cliffhanger because it’s part of a trilogy so now I have to wait for Asian Read-a-thon to end so I can grab the second book.

19. City of Ghosts – Victoria Schwab

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I, um, started reading this accidentally because I confused Victoria Schwab with her alias VE Schwab, and apparently Victoria is the name she uses to write her middle grade books. So yeah I read a middle grade book about a girl who died for a second but was brought back to life by a ghost so now she can enter a veil to the OTHER SIDE and the dead boy that saved her is like her sidekick that only she can see and it has such an adorable Casper feel to it, but I just can’t justify reading the rest of the series because I might like young shit but this was just too young. I think I would have LOVED it when I was in 5th grade though!

20. Aristotle & Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe – Benjamin Alire Saenz

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The only reason I picked this up was because I saw that Lin Manuel Miranda narrates the audiobook and wow, I’m really glad that I did. Set in the late 80s, it’s about two Mexican American high school boys who form an unlikely friendship. I was just bracing myself through the entire thing, waiting for the other shoe to fall, like surely there is going to be some devastating episode, and of course there was but no dogs died or anything at least.

My only issue with it was that it’s a coming of age/coming out novel set in 1988 and there is no mention of AIDs. Like, none.

21. Six Stories – Matt Wesolowski

Six Stories (Six Stories, #1)

I came so close to DNFing this because the writing is pretty rough, but I am so glad I kept going. It’s about a teenage boy who was murdered during a camping trip with friends in the late 90s and now, present day, there is a podcast that is dissecting the cold case, interviewing the friends, parents, suspects. Because each “episode” features a different person of interest, it can get quite repetitive but I still found it compelling and couldn’t wait to finish it.

I ended up really enjoying it, and I will admit that there were numerous times when I had actual chills while reading it.

22. Daisy Jones & the Six – Taylor Jenkins Reid

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This book is soooo over-hyped, I’m sorry. I gave it 3 stars for the story, but the audio book bumps it up to a 4 because it’s a full cast with Jennifer Beals, Benjamin Bratt, and Judy Greer (the character she voiced was my favorite) and it really made it feel like I was watching VH1 Behind the Music. It’s written interview-style, present-day, with the members of the band and people in their orbit talking about the rise and fall of Daisy Jones and the Six, so you get to see various situations from multiple perspectives which made me laugh several times because they don’t know what the others have already said so there’d be things like:

Pete: I remember I was wearing this orange suit. I looked so good.

Karen: Pete was wearing this ugly orange outfit. He looked hideous.

But honestly this could have been any band in the 70s. Drugs, drama, egos, secret band affairs. There was an unexpected “twist” thrown in there which I didn’t see coming and I thought it was well-done. But Daisy Jones and the other main character were so unlikeable and I was certainly not rooting for either of them.

The whole thing had big Fleetwood Mac vibes. If you’re into fictional band stuff, you would probably like this but I would only recommend reading it in tandem with the audio book! The audio book is PHENOMENAL.

23. Slay – Brittney Morris 

Slay

I don’t know what made me request this on Libby, some Booktuber’s recommendation, I guess. It really isn’t relevant to my interests at all because the plot centers around a game created by a high school senior but she goes through painstaking strides to keep her identity as the creator secret. As one of only three black students at her high school, she created this game as a safe haven for other black people, for a place where they can go and comfortably play without worrying about racism or discrimination. The game is really cool because it involves these battle cards, each of which are specific to black culture, history, sports, music, etc; for example, the Jordan card makes you outjump your opponent. One of the cards was about FUFU which is how this happened!

Meanwhile at school, our protagonist frequently finds herself in the middle of the race debates and it’s exhausting and she has to try and explain to her white friends that she is not the voice of all black people, so asking her, “Will it be offensive if I get dreadlocks?” really puts her in a tight spot.

I think the message conveyed in this book IS SO IMPORTANT and all white teens should be required to read it, honestly. I was very invested.

24. Red at the Bone – Jacqueline Woodson

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I started reading this on a whim after watching a video spotlighting the Women’s Prize for Fiction longlist. I didn’t know anything about it to be honest, sometimes I just compulsively add books to my “want to read” on Goodreads, all willy-nilly, and every so often, I find a diamond in the rought. This was one of those diamonds.

It starts out with a girl’s 16th birthday, and from there, the book is told in vignettes, from the POV of various family members of the 16-year-old, exploring race, class, sex, teenage pregnancy, death. There’s a lot of power packed into this small novel, and I cried heavily. I can’t even really summarize it here without starting to get all choked up again.

If you’re looking for beautiful literary fiction, this is it. I’m obsessed.

25. Roanoke Girls – Amy Engel 

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Oh shit, this cult-like family thriller is just flat out nasty. I could feel my visage setting in “stank-face” mode numerous times as I made my way through this one, and all of the characters are just straight-up despicable, but hoo-boy I couldn’t put it down. I recommend if you love digging through dirty laundry.

26. Girl Made of Stars – Ashley Herring Blake

This is one of the last actual library books I had left on my TBR shelf wheelchair. (Now I only have one left, but I keep putting it off because it will be last actual book to hold in my hands until the library reopens!!) I left this one for next-to-last because I wasn’t in the mood to cry and I knew going in that this would definitely trigger the tear ducts because I have seen it recommended in so many of my favorite Booktubers’ videos. It’s about these high school twins and the moral conflict that the sister twin goes through when her brother is accused of raping his girlfriend, who is also one of her best friends.

DANG. This book took me on an emotional ride, and it was not of the peaceful Sunday drive variety, either. Definitely a heavy-hitting YA that made me think of all kinds of uncomfortable hypotheticals.

I felt like it was almost perfect but there was something about the main character that made her unlikeable to me. Like, all of this shitty RAPE stuff was happening and she somehow kept making it about herself and I wanted to slap her.

***

OK, let’s bury the April books now. 26 was an insane amount of books to read and I promise once lockdown is lifted, I’ll probably be back to 10-books per month. I mean, as of this writing, I’ve read 77 books this year. 7-fucking-7. That’s ridiculous. Now I gotta get back to my #Asianreadathon, which is going swimmingly! One week in and I’ve already read one book that was so good, I had already known in my heart that I was going to give it 5 stars after the first 50 pages. May is going to be a good book month!

Sep 062012
 

I’ve been trying to give myself a bit of a blogging rest, which is why the last few posts have been mostly photos. It is good to rest the brain here and there, or so I’m told; this isn’t something I do often, but when I start catching myself staring off into space, in complete subliminal shut-down mode, I know that it’s time. This break combined with Chooch being back in school means that I’ve even had time to READ A BOOK.

  • I made Henry stop and get me an iced pumpkin latte at Starbucks on the way to work today. “You have one in your building!” he cried in defiance. Um yeah, but it tastes better when Henry gets it for me. His attempt at dissension prompted me to remind him that I don’t ask for much. “I know,” he sighed. And then, “Wait, what do you mean?? You ask for EVERYTHING.”
  • There is going to be another Walking Challenge! It’s starts near the end of September and this time it is the ENTIRE Firm, not just our Pittsburgh office. (There are 30-some offices worldwide; so many new ones have sprung up in the two and a half years I’ve been there that I’ve lost count.) My team is almost the same as last time, except Barb replaced Amber2. Barb and Carey were the only ones who flat out asked to join my team, which I think is outrageous considering I was #1 in our department (#7 in the whole Pittsburgh office) last time. Barb even caught me screening people on the phone. “Exactly how well did you do last time?” I asked Regina. “Um, I was average,” she admitted. Average? Forget it!
    • Henry said that he and Chooch are going to live down the street at the Comfort Inn until the Challenge is over. Seri claims she is not mentally prepared for this, but it’s not her “mental” that needs preparing, it’s her feet because she’s going to be walking half of this along with me.
  • I’m going to see Barry Manilow next week! (Yes, I like Barry Manilow!) Pretty stoked about this, to be honest. Will probably be pulling out my old Manilow Greatest Hits CDs this weekend. Hopefully Henry’s mom will let me borrow something to wear to this.
  • All I have been able to focus on lately is the upcoming 3rd annual Pie Party: Third Coming of Crust and this god forsaken 2nd annual Halloween decorating contest at work. I have had that all planned out in my head before last year’s competition was even judged (if you have so rudely forgotten, I owned that bitch last year), but over the last week it has really started to come together and I just can’t wait to get started! It’s going to be a big departure from last year’s installment.
    • If you’re local and want to come to the Pie Party, hit me up for details! It’s always a fun day in the park, porking out on pies.
  • In the car tonight, Chooch said, “I always know when a song is Robert Smith* because the voice always sounds sad.” (*It’s always Robert Smith to him, never the Cure.)
  • Today at work, Amber2 told me she liked my nails. “Thanks!” I said. “I painted them while I was watching The Real World.” I have a really tough life.
  • I know I’m supposed to be not caring about blogging right now, but we went to the Westmoreland County Fair two weeks ago and I still haven’t written about it yet and it’s pretty much driving me nutso.
  • My brother Corey got a temp job at a law firm across the street from my Law Firm, so he stopped by the other night on his way home to say hello and see my desk in all of its Jonny Craig splendor.

    One of my co-workers saw him and asked me, “Is this your lover?” That was almost as awkward as the time I was at Warped Tour with Blake and Henry, and some dude asked if Blake was my boyfriend, and then when he found out it was actually Blake’s DAD who is my boyfriend, asked, “Oh. Do you guys ever have threesomes?” That’s not Awkward City; THAT is Awkward Megalopolis.

  • Yesterday at work, I totally lost my mind thinking about my old Mexican deaf persona, Manuel. I was laughing alone at my desk so violently, that I couldn’t speak to anyone when they approached me, and one co-worker mistook my laughter for asphyxiation and seemed genuinely concerned. Thank god the Paper Clip Monitor is teaching himself CPR. However, I began thinking about this and my nonsensical obsession with wheelchairs and said to Barb, “You know, I probably sealed my fate. I’m going to wind up deaf and in a wheelchair one day.

  • The zipper was broken on the brand new pair of pants I wore to work yesterday. (Or “slacks,” as the Barry Manilow demographic might say.

    ) Barb thought this was just the greatest thing, because for once, misfortune had shifted from her to me. At one point, I leaned all the way back in my chair at my desk and shamelessly yanked the zipper up like a fat old man. Deaf and in a wheelchair with broken pants. This is my future.

    • My suggestion of Wheelchairs and Hearing Aids as our walking team name was vetoed. So was Praise Ginger Jesus.
      • I don’t even care that Jonny Craig is getting married anymore. He sucks even more now that he’s sober, if that’s even possible.
  • IT’S ALMOST OCTOBER. HAUNTED HOUSES. HALLOWEEN. PUMPKIN THINGS. FALL SMELLS. APPLEMANIA!
Dec 222011
 

As I mentioned the other day, Chooch’s Kindergarten class got strapped with “Up On the Rooftop” for the school recital, so I had to endure two weeks of random “CLICK CLICK CLICK!!!!!!11” outbursts. The recital was this morning, so I have high hopes that perhaps this nerve-prickling carol will be put to bed.

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Remember a few weeks ago when I went to Saint Anthony’s and the Holy Ghost anally entered me, deluding me into thinking that I should start going to church? That was obviously a very fleeting consideration, because from the moment I set foot in that church this morning (Chooch goes to Catholic school, remember? Please swallow your need to put out this glaring irony), the mark of the Devil on the nape of  my neck began to singe and I was afraid to open my mouth for fear of the parseltongue that would come somersaulting out.

Most of those parents are True Catholics. I watched in disgust as some of them genuflected every time they went in and out of their pew. Get a fucking grip, you God nerds. This is just a bunch of beaten-down moms watching their tone deaf kids sing obnoxious Christmas carols. There wasn’t even a priest in sight!

Fuck, some people have a lot of respect.

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Before the recital started (if the 8th grade band honking and squelching on their ragtag instruments counts as kicking off a recital), the principal got up on the podium and reminded everyone that this is, after all, a church (don’t let those stained glass windows fool you into thinking you’re in a gothic strip club) and that all cell phones should be turned off (make me) and all hats removed. Because God hates a fucking hat.

“Dude, take your hat off,” I whispered to Henry.

“No,” he said defiantly.

After the band wheezed and puffed their way through some handicapped version of a Christmas carol (“Away in a Manger” maybe? The mind has a funny way of blocking out traumas), the prinicpal once again took her spot at the podium and reiterated in a very Mussolini-tone that THIS IS A CHURCH, HELLO YOU HAT-WEARING MOTHERFUCKER, TAKE IT THE FUCK OFF YOUR HEATHEN HEAD.

Again, Henry made no effort to take off his hat. People were starting to turn around, scanning the heads of the audience for that douchebag with a covered scalp.

Henry was the only one wearing a hat.

I waited a beat for God to blast his Heavenly spotlight upon Henry’s cotton-topped pate.

“Take it off!” I hissed.

“Me?” He asked. No, the other blue collar beverage warehouse worker. He finally pulled his beanie off his head, and then promplty started muttering about how his hair was still wet. I didn’t even care at  that point. I hate having people look at me and I’d rather be the poor lady next to the douchebag who dared come to church straight from the New England fishing boat than the lady next to the man who needs a hairdryer for Christmas.

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Hatless Henry.

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O Come (the Fuck On and Finish the Goddamn Song), Emmanuel. WHAT. Seriously, this is the longest song in the history of songs I have heard and been annoyed by. Some of the upper classes would sing like, two stanzas and then pause to have the fucking principal read some religious shit.

It went on and on like this. Singing. [ME, TWEETING] Religious shit. [BABY CRYING] Singing. [OLD PERSON COUGHING] Religious Shit. The parents were encouraged to sing along and everyone (but me) made a mad dash for the Missalette. Even Henry eventually grabbed one, but I think it was just so he could distract himself from the shame he felt for being That Douche In the Hat.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only fifteen minutes (which, in church time, IS ETERNITY), the Kindergarteners finally took the stage (altar?) and there was a rush of parents into the aisle, cameras and phones in hand. I was actually a Good Mom and joined them because I wanted to record it on my phone.

I am a Very Good Recorderer, as you are about to find out. Plus, you get to hear my whiny voice in the beginning and Henry having no patience.

I am so happy that after all that “practice” he did in the house, in the car, in my nightmares, he just STOOD THERE SMILING and NOT SINGING. He didn’t even do the arm motions!

Oh well. At least it was a short song.

Right after they were done, Henry said all quickly, “OK, gotta go back to work see ya bye!” and LEFT ME ALONE IN CHURCH. Some little girl in the pew in front of me kept turning around and gawking at my finger tattoos and I was feeling extremely uncomfortable and kept averting my eyes. God, I don’t like little girls. And this one wouldn’t just sit the fuck down, either. SIT THE FUCK DOWN! DON’T YOU KNOW GOD IS WATCHING YOU?

It seemed like I was there all day. My lower back was burning from sitting on that goddamn pew. The principal made this smooth transition from school recital to MASS by ending with some lame ass prayer and making us all do the Sign of the Cross (I remembered how to do it! Then I was like, “I can’t believe I just mindlessly followed along like a fucking sheep! I hate myself!”) and it ended with a part of church that I had forgotten about: that weird Flanders-esque “Peace be with you” segment where everyone engages in a mad flurry of spreading viruses and pestilence through clammy-palmed handshakes.

I found my shoulders rising as the rest of me slid lower and lower still in the pew. I knew at least the little girl wouldn’t turn around, wanting to shake my weird tattooed hands, so what a blessing after all.

I made it out without having to touch anyone or look anyone in the eye or speak to anyone about anything in general. And the roof didn’t collapse. All good things.

Oh, and I got to see my kid wearing cute antlers, which was the whole point, right?

Nov 112011
 

I have known Alyson since, what? 2005 at least. We met on LiveJournal and she came all the way from New Hampshire for my baby shower a year later. I’m grateful to have had several chances to spend time with her over the years and we’ve been kicking around the idea of planning a winery trip next year, which would be amazing on so many levels. She has been a constant source of support and encouragement for me, in all aspects, not just writing; and she is also one of the few people I have met in my life who understands what it’s like to listen to music and feel like your entire body and soul is a giant cavity being swished with bourbon, and that going to a show is like our version of fucking Sunday mass.

It’s a huge honor that Alyson took time out to write this for me.

***

So, I have been thinking about your greatest hits, and I am finding that the ones sticking in my head the most are the ones in which you write about your Pappap, the ones in which you attend shows and Warped Tour, and the Christina ones because you are so completely real about the giant fuckshow that friendship was, without blaming anyone. You just tell the truth. In that one and in everything you write.

I re-read the Pittsburgh Warped Tour one and was like, wow. This one.

I love your posts about music. Your passion for music runs so deeply, it hurts, and you make us feel your pain, and it’s beautiful.

Also, the Manuel ones make me laugh to the point of tears. Your writing always makes me feel something; it was your writing that made me want to know you, after all.

1. An Old Person’s Perspective of Warped Tour: A Boring Interview with Henry J. Robbins

2. Henry’s Downhill Battle Mountain

3. The Christina Chronicles: The Worst Memorial Day Weekend, Part 1 – The PB&J

(I randomly chose those two on behalf of Alyson as an example of the music and Christina categories.)