Reason #497

Why am I regularly frustrated by and ashamed of all things American?  Why do I usually grow squeamish when I am labeled a Christian?  Why?  Why?  Because I don’t think patriotic = holy, and I sure as hell don’t think being an ignorant asshole = holy.  Granted, this guy doesn’t call himself a Christian, but I am making my own ignorant assumptions and guessing that if he’s from Texas, he goes to church every Sunday just like he goes to a football game every Friday.

I am now done with my little Saturday evening rant.  Thank you for humoring me.

Shouldn’t I get extra credit?

Here’s a question from my New Testament final:

_A___ 20.  In Revelation, what is the most correct order of the visions?

A.     seven seals, seven trumpets, the Woman who gives birth, the fall of Babylon

B.     seven trumpets, seven seals, the fishnet-stocking woman, the fall of Babylon

C.     seven seals, seven trumpets, seven plagues, the “Great Whore,” the coming of the beast

D.     seven seals, seven plagues, the seven trumpets, Rosie O’Donnell and Donald Trump warring.

 Note option B.  What is the fishnet-stocking woman you may ask?  That, my friends, is a direct reference to a comment I made under my breath in class.  Our professor sarcastically asked us what made Babylon such a good whore anyway.  I muttered jokingly to the person next to me that it was probably the fishnet stockings.  She proceeded to all but fall out of her chair (a slight over-reaction, I must say…it wasn’t that funny).  At that point, the prof wanted to know what I said, so of course I had to tell him.  He apparently thought it was so funny that he incorporated it into the lecture for the other sections.  And put it on the final.

I’ve thawed out

The quick trip to Detroit and back was filled with…well, it wasn’t filled with much, but my pal Trudi made the trek with me and it was very cold and we did go to IKEA.  So there you have it.  The trip was filled with friendship, coldness and Swedish housewares.

It also could have been filled with Arby’s, but that blasted mitten sign was a big lie.  We  settled for Applebee’s instead.

Anywho…I ran a lot better than I had anticipated.  Like two minutes faster than I thought, so that was great.  I got 8th of 48 in my age group.   Once you get past the 25-year hump, you move up into the old lady bracket…gives young bucks like me an extra edge.  Actually, it just helps us avoid college and high school cross-country runners.  My friend Sarah used to be one of those.  But she still runs her 5k almost 10 minutes faster than I do.  She not only cleans house in her age division for women, she beats most of the men too.  Sometimes I like to think that I am faster just because I know her.  But I’m not.  I swear I beat her one time like in 7th grade or something, but she fiercely denies it.  The fact of the matter is Sarah could run a 5k backwards and still beat me.  She’s a stud.  And I’m not really sure how or why this turned into the Ode to Sarah paragraph.  Maybe I’m fishing for a good Christmas present or something.

The fabulous Miss Trudi snapped a few shots at the race. Enjoy!

 That’s me in the front row showing off my patriotism.  Umm…no.  Even if I was interested in wearing all spandex, I wouldn’t be clad in skin-tight Old Glory.  That’s a promise.  Actually, lots of people ran in a variety of costumes…reindeer, Santas and American flags.  Everyone got jingle bells to wear on their shoes.  That was both fun and freaky.  Two men came up behind me in really loud wind suits; the swish-swish of their pants plus the bells made me think for a moment that I was about to get stampeded.

 Here I am running.  Oh wait, that’s my fast friend Sarah.

 

 Okay, that’s really me.  This is me at the end, very cold, thinking ‘when do I get to go inside?’  I was also a little bit confused at the end because I didn’t believe the time on the clock and the way they filtered the 5k group out of the 10k runners was a little haphazard.

That was my race.  After finishing and getting my timing clip cut off my laces, I went inside to to get an under-ripe banana and a can of joint-juice (some random concoction of tang and glucosamine).  On the way out to the car, I threw the nasty banana away and tried to understand what the heck I was drinking.

The end.

Catching Up

At least two of my readers should recall what took places two winters ago. It involved dust pans, a piece of wood and a LOT of snow. I’m afraid crazy Michigan might provide a lot of the same. Fourteen inches of snow today. Lake Effect, the say. Hmph.

Not only is Michigan itself crazy, I think its craziness has rubbed off on me. I’m running a 5k in Detroit on Saturday. Not sure what I was smoking when I signed up for it, but I sure hope I have more of whatever it was on hand when I am actually running the dang thing. I hope Detroit doesn’t have Lake Effect.

And now the moment I am sure you all have been waiting for…pictures.

 

It’s a local coffee shop. But it made me think…God called it good. But is that what Jesus experienced? Is that what half the people on this planet experience? Is that how most of the people on the planet treat this place? Just thoughts… Anyway, the rest is just stuff and nothing special. Enjoy!!