Things I Think in Church – Easter Sunday Edition

You guys, I don’t want to sound like a heathen, because I’m totally not…I just don’t find myself frequenting the house of God. So on Sunday, when I showed up and made my mom cry (with joy) because I’m such a good daughter pretty much the best daughter ever, it wasn’t like a regular thing. Especially considering our move on Saturday (more on that later)…and our now living 35 minutes from my parents (and the church) instead of 15 from the parents and 10 from church.

Anyways, I started thinking (as I tend to do), and I couldn’t stop. So I figured you’d appreciate (if not commiserate) with me.

  • I think I’m having a panic attack. Okay, so to be fair, I did eventually figure out the problem…Before heading to church, I stopped at Walgreen’s for Easter basket treats for my favorite tiny humans. This means very little, except that as I was walking to my car, I started feeling that faint, OMG I’m dying and can’t seem to stop shaking thing. Of course, I realized quickly it was some type of caffeine spike or coming down from one…because (Whoops!) I used my Brew Over Ice coffee (highly concentrated) instead of regular Keurig coffee-without ice. So I slammed two of the chocolate-covered Peeps that were supposed to go in Easter baskets (I would have just had one, but you can’t give one kid a Peep and not the other…) and made my way into mass. I was shaking for the first 20 minutes.
  • I wish I had an Easter hat. Remember when you were a kid and you really actually got an Easter bonnet to wear each year? I’m going to start doing that.
  • Why didn’t I bring my phone in with me? I suppose it’s better this way…but when I finally started wondering what time it was-you know…15 minutes in, I had to scan the pews for a watch I could read.
  • Do you think Father is trying to punish the Chreasters or have a larger audience to talk about himself? After a 40-minute sermon, I was getting ancy. So I verbalized this question to my mom. Who looked at me funny. And asked what I meant by “Chreaster.” I explained (in a humored whisper) that a Chreaster is someone who shows up to church on Christmas and Easter. She chuckled and said, “Well, SOME people put Mother’s Day into that list.” Yeah Mom, I get the hint. I told her we call those CME’s. And she shushed me again. She never did answer my question though.
  • What TIME is it? I realized we hadn’t even gotten to the consecration (of course, when I whispered this to my mom, I called it “the kneeling part”) and I found a watch relatively close by….it was almost 1 o’clock already!
  • That kid is too old to be fucking around. There was a kid, probably 8 or 9 years old, laying down across the pew, sprawling himself out and just behaving like a very small child. I understand that there are many non-verbal things that could be going on with the child that I wouldn’t know about, but based on the fact that Mom kept picking him up and he kept laying himself back down, he likely just wasn’t listening to her. If that had been me? I’d have been taken outside and spanked…then brought back in and expected to sit quietly and behave for the rest of mass.
  • That guy’s pants are way. too. tight. Okay, so my mom was actually the one to verbalize this, but she was totally right. Don’t let your man wear tighter pants than you. That’s what I always say!
  • I really hope that people can’t hear what I’m thinking. I pretty much think this all the time, no matter where I am. Sometimes my thoughts are inappropriate as fuck and other times they’re just plain weird.

Unfortunately for my mom, I verbalized most of my thoughts, but whatever. There’s nothing more fun than making your mom cry and then laugh. But only if she’s crying the happy cry. Don’t be an asshole. Duh.

Did you go to church this weekend? Do you go to church? Do you think weird things when you’re supposed to be pensive and reflective?

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No Really, I’m Going to be 30…And I Need Your Help.

So I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this or not…but I’m going to be 30. In one week. After my golden birthday comes and goes, I will return to 29. And stay there. Forever.

In all reality, I’m much less panicked than I was upon turning 25. That was a very strange time in my life. I was dating someone who’s oldest child was closer in age to me than he was (you know, just in the opposite direction). I was spending most of my free time drinking or bartending (I had a full time gig as a catering manager). And I was terrified. 25 scared me. Even though I said that 30 was my scary age, 25 was right there. Waiting for me. With that whole quarter-life crisis thing.

But 25 came and went. And I survived. And I know that I’ll survive this one too. I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.

Get to the point, Chrissy…

The point is this: I’ve already done so much. And there’s so much more life to live. I’m creating a bucket list for 40. 10 years. 40 things. And it’s going to be spectacular.

But I’ve also got another plan. Thanks to my word worm, Katie, I have become a Twitter fiend. Sometimes, I tweet along with Grey’s Anatomy. Sometimes I tweet at famous people, hoping that they’ll love me and respond. And one time. No. Two times, Blessid Union of Souls retweeted me. Because they are awesome. And the Bloggess offered to share her Bloggie award with me. Because she is the most awesome ever.

TheBloggess (TheBloggess) on Twitter 2013-05-22 22-54-19And in true Bloggess fashion, I think it it would be fun to try to get some famous people to tell me “Happy Birthday.” Or “Go Fuck Yourself”. Or “Dude. Hi.” I’m not really picky what they say to me. I just think it would be cool to see how many famous people I can get to acknowledge my existence.

We all know what a fool I am when I meet famous people in real life. I have a much better chance of remaining calm digitally. So help me out. Send a famous tweeter or two my Twitter handle (@chrissawoj) and tell them that it would be fantastic if they could send me a little love over the next week. Pictures. Videos. Tweets. All seem like brilliant ideas. Because I’m pushing 30 and dammit I want to ring it in. In the best way possible.

Blog friends, who would you want to tweet at you on your birthday? Please tell me it’s someone awesome.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

11 Things I Think in Yoga Class

I know that in yoga, you’re supposed to meditate and find your inner chi or peace or something…

Instead, my mind starts to wander and I have some very valuable (and bizarre) thoughts. It’s almost as good as my shower thinking (which is where I do all of my big thinking). A lot of the thoughts I have are about my boobs. But you’d think about your boobs a lot too, if you spent multiple minutes at a time with your face in your own tits. Fucking yoga.
Yoga

11 Things I Think While Meditating in Yoga Asanas

I wonder what would happen if I try that next pose?

My boobs are fucking ginormous.

He (the instructor) wants me to do what?

I have the worst frontal wedgie in the history of ever.

So this is what a motorboat feels like.

I don’t care what Special K said, a power bar does not equal dinner.

I wonder if I could pop my boobs like a balloon.

I wonder if anyone would notice me pull my underwear out of my crotch.

My feet are fucking freezing, Mr. Bigglesworth.

Is that pose even possible?

I’m supposed to be meditating. Is thinking about dinner meditating?

Blog friends, what do you think about when you’re working out?

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Strange Thoughts I Think Regularly

I think that this is what they call writer’s block in Chrissy’s World. I typically have my posts pre-written and ready the night before…and now…not so much. And then I can’t think of what to write, even though I have had 47.2 blog post ideas to write about over the course of the week.

So I started thinking to myself,self, what’s up? You think all the time…and you can’t think of what to write. Wait. You think a lot of stupid shit, sometimes. This could make an excellent blog post.

Done.

Random Thought Process

When I say something completely random, Brian often asks me where the hell it came from. So I repeat the entire thought process back to him and he’s all like, “Oh. That makes perfect sense…now.” Because it didn’t until I explained what I was thinking. The same thing goes for when I’m Googling random shit on the internet of my fancy phone. This explains why I Google things like: skunk predators, rhythm method, and salmon burgers. (All this week).

But I also have recurring thoughts

We all know I’ve got a little hypochondriac in me. I’ve often thought and probably said a time or two…If I think that I’m a hypochondriac, does that mean that I am?

Along the same lines, I start to wonder about x,y, or z on my body, and think, what if it’s cancer? What if I have MS? What if I have that shaking disease that Michael J Fox has (At this point, I would Google “Michael J Fox disease” and come up with Parkinson’s)? I go through lists of symptoms in my head and Google the results…According to Google, I am almost always on death’s door. But as Katie mentioned, I would kick Death’s ass in a Scrabble match…so maybe I’d be okay.

I used to have a lot of problems with driving. I was a bad driver. Now, I’m a much better driver. When I say that I’m a shitty driver, Brian says, “No, you’re not. You’re a really good, cautious driver. You may have been a bad driver in the past, but not since I’ve known you.” One of the reasons that I am likely such a better driver has to do with the thought process I have whilst driving.I will often envision the potential accidents, problems, etc that could happen, and how I would react to them. I think about hitting the car in front of me, getting rear-ended, or even getting attacked by an evil deer (More on that later).

Actually, long before I was an adequate driver, I used to think about the excuses that I could come up with when I was driving fast. I’m sorry officer, my boyfriend just broke up with me. My best friend just moved to *insert other state here.* My mom is sick. My grandfather just passed away. I just lost my job… I would think about the excuses, so that I was ready for anything. Except when I wasn’t. And that’s when I got pulled over. The officer doesn’t want to hear, “I’m on my way to traffic safety school and it’s my mom’s birthday,” or “I was just running to the liquor store,” or “Sorry, officer, I’m drunk and going from one bar to another.

There was one time, in which I got pulled over for making an illegal right turn on a red light…The officer asked if I knew why he pulled me over. I told him, “No, officer I don’t.” He said that I made an illegal turn on red. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” He looked at my license and asked, “So how long have you lived in Glen Ellyn?” I was 5 blocks from my parents house… “Pretty much my whole life…” So he asked, “And you didn’t know there was no turn on red there?” My response was priceless. I was going for ignorant and ditzy…”I’m not very observant…” The officer took it as snarky and insolent. Whoops. Ticket.

I often start thinking something ridiculous, weird, dirty, or judgy. And then I’ll think to myself, self, what if someone here can hear your thoughts? Just because you can’t read minds doesn’t mean it’s not possible. What if they can hear every thought in your brain. They know you just checked out that guy’s package. They know you just make a really mean comment about that girl’s outfit. They hear you thinking about how you really want to pick your nose. They know. They know and hear and see all. You can’t hide from this shit. They’re judging younow.

Do you ever have strange thoughts?

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!