I just found out that I have a fundamentalist in my head. He's ugly, lemme tell you.
You know when you run into a fundy on the street who tries to tell you that you are a sinner and gays are ruining everything and Jews are the devil and AIDS is god's punishment and the streets are made of black licorice? You try to tell him "Nope, I'm a queer Jewish chick and I'm neither the devil nor ruining anyone's life and really nice people get HIV every day." but he doesn't believe you.
Arguing with that guy is futile because no matter how much logic you use, he is still going to believe the black licorice theory. Same guy in my head.
He's been telling me that my desk is fine and I'm not supposed to be hungry and needing/wanting stuff both tangible and intangible is bad (like sin-bad even though I'm an atheist Jewess and don't believe in sin - though I do believe in Sinbad - we have the same tattoo artist).
OK. We have to get rid of this guy.
My legs do not fit under my desk because it is an adolescent desk and not built to fit a grown up. The fundy tells me that my desk works just fine. It is a fine desk. I do not need a new desk, I only want a new desk which is selfish and childish of me. If I do get a new desk, he says, it must be the perfect desk. It cannot be an okay desk, it must be THE DESK. This fundy must die.
If you've made it through that mess of drama, I need to ask a bitty favor. Send your love and good thoughts to Crazy Aunt Purl today. She's havin' a tough one and needs a little lovin'.
You know when you run into a fundy on the street who tries to tell you that you are a sinner and gays are ruining everything and Jews are the devil and AIDS is god's punishment and the streets are made of black licorice? You try to tell him "Nope, I'm a queer Jewish chick and I'm neither the devil nor ruining anyone's life and really nice people get HIV every day." but he doesn't believe you.
Arguing with that guy is futile because no matter how much logic you use, he is still going to believe the black licorice theory. Same guy in my head.
He's been telling me that my desk is fine and I'm not supposed to be hungry and needing/wanting stuff both tangible and intangible is bad (like sin-bad even though I'm an atheist Jewess and don't believe in sin - though I do believe in Sinbad - we have the same tattoo artist).
OK. We have to get rid of this guy.
My legs do not fit under my desk because it is an adolescent desk and not built to fit a grown up. The fundy tells me that my desk works just fine. It is a fine desk. I do not need a new desk, I only want a new desk which is selfish and childish of me. If I do get a new desk, he says, it must be the perfect desk. It cannot be an okay desk, it must be THE DESK. This fundy must die.
If you've made it through that mess of drama, I need to ask a bitty favor. Send your love and good thoughts to Crazy Aunt Purl today. She's havin' a tough one and needs a little lovin'.
Labels: Body Electric, tattoos
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The story of Michael and me.
3 Comments:
I see an Ikea jaunt in our future. YOU NEED A NEW DESK. Thanks for the good vibes. I hate licorice.
xo,L
It is an adolescent desk....Just send it on it's way. It is not working fine because you are not an adolescent! Seriously, get a new desk. What kind do you want, you know that Al and I are always shopping for furniture. We could keep our eyes peeled for you.
I too hate licorice, the black kind anyway.
Ohthankg*d--thought I was the only one who had those bizarro internal conversations...
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