Uhm, yeah, so today's post is like, uhm...

...not done. I've been trying to make up my Sunday posts ahead of time, that way I can fulfill the commandment of "Sunday is the Lord's day all day long."


I'll just rattle on and on, how about it? Sounds good. Notice that today is not a Sacrilegious Sunday. Today is just a Normrilegious Sunday.


So today, as every Sunday, we went to church. First, my dad almost didn't go, then I almost didn't go. His "almost didn't go" meant that he probably wasn't going to go. My "almost didn't go" meant that I was in no state to go to church, but wouldn't have considered actually not going. The unrelenting assault of the teenage angst is really doing a number on me, but I think it's partly me getting all of my depression and drama out before we go to California.

I have to do some sewing before we leave. I have to put a leather patch on my favorite pants because my kubotan is rubbing on them, and they're almost raw right about my right pocket over my thigh. I might also take the bright orange tag off of them that says "I'm a gangster baby lol!" It's bright orange (didn't I already say that?) and makes me look like a hipster. Ugh. Good for Wednesday Bible study, not good for THREE WHOLE DAYS OF APPEARING HOLY AND SANCTIFIED TO REPRESENT OUR CHURCH HONORABLY. Very detrimental to that effort.)

I also need a haircut at some point. Mrs. Bruckner got a haircut sometime during the last week. I need a haircut so that my hair doesn't look uncut. Simple enough, right?

Oogh. There goes the teenage angst. The sermon was very interesting today. I wrote a lot of stuff down; I was still pretty depressed, though. I sent Manny, the Hitman's wife, an email requesting that she define the teenage angst for me. She sent an article (THANK GOD, SHE HAS GOOD GRAMMAR), which I'll mention when I make my "teenage angst" post.



Apparently, we've decided that we're not traveling with our Pastor to California. While being couped up with three other filthy men in a minivan is not my idea of a fun-filled weekend getaway, it's sort of edifying. At least in the "longsuffering" and "Thou shalt not kill" sense. It'd be an experience. Plus, Pastor wants to see how I'd do if forced to sit next to another teenager.



Or...OK, after an argument (I've learned to call these "arguments"; if I ever call them "fights," my mom grabs a frying pan, and my dad balls his fists, and they yell "YOU WANT US TO SHOW YOU A FIGHT?!") we've decided that we're going with our Pastor. Goody! As long as he's OK with it. If it turns out that there's an extra two people who need to go, we can be drafted to also take our car and take them with us. We're helpers.

I'll be bringing the camcorder. I need to make a list of things to bring...let's see...I'll publish that once it's complete, actually.

Now I'm going to end this post very quickl
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