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A religious experience
Written on 2001-09-24, at 12:10 p.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1 Pen Cap (which was chewed on all morning in class)

1 Swallow of Coke whilst running out the door

Well, all in all this was an interesting weekend. Since nothing happened, that feeling of dread that I had previously mentioned was obviously unfounded.

Unless of course you count dreading another night at the same tired old gay nightclub.

On Saturday, shortly after leaving work I was going to go straight home, and not deal with the boys-who-want-to-be-girls that evening.

However, upon recieving this boy's press release, my friends took it upon themselves to talk me into going.

So being the frugal person I am, I decide to go before 10pm, when it's free.

Now, I don't know if any of you have ever been to a gay club before 10pm...

And for those of you who have, there's no reason for me to finish that.

Because you know.

But thankfully, I met up with this boy Brandon that I've known for a few weeks, and we whiled away the evening smoking, drinking, making fun of people, and just being generally, well...gay.

Now Sunday was much more interesting for many reasons, some of which include the fact that:

1) I went to Mass, and

2) My parents came up from South Florida to visit.

Now, when I say "I went to Mass", I do not mean that I was taking a trip to the great state of Massachusetts (which I just had to look up to figure out how to spell, and to me, it still looks wrong...), I mean, I went to church.


It was even more intriguing when you add in the fact that I was out at a gay bar the night before.

And as the great American philosopher Jimmy Buffett once said:

"There's a fine line between Saturday night and Sunday morning."

Ain't that true...

Did I just say "ain't"?

I'm starting to sound like Adam. What's next, "y'all?"

Church isn't something that I'm against or anything, but it is something that I don't really do.

Growing up in a Catholic household with mainly Jewish relatives can make anyone:

1) Fearful of religion in all forms, and,

2) Riddled with enough guilt and neuroses to last out the lifespan of Dick Clark.

But, there we were, at "Mary, Queen of the Universe Shrine". And about the name...I'm not making it up. It's this enormous church right off the interstate, just minutes from Disney.

I have this theory about Disney, you see...

I believe that the closer you get to Walt Disney World property here in Orlando, the bigger, and more overblown you must make anything.

Apparently the same holds true for churches.

So, I arrive at this monolith of all things holy (and tourist-y) just in time for the service to begin. I, all decked out in cute retro clothing, orange hair shining, and my red shoes, was obviously getting some looks from the blue hairs.

"blue hairs"

Pronunciation: bloo hay-erz

Function: noun

Etymology: coined by bitter Florida natives who have places to go.

Circa: Unknown.

1: Term given to the elderly in Florida, who lack a) a basic knowledge of driving, and b) the inability to have tact when observing others. This term comes from the fact that for some reason, old people's hair turns blue after they move to the state.

But, I let them look, who cares, I was with Mommy.

I was so happy to see her, the last we got to spend time together was when I went home for Mothers Day, and after all this madness back up North, I really, really wanted to see her.

So I'm just gabbing away, until I remember that we're in church, and I have to be quiet.

Now, the priest begins Mass, and I have to hold back laughter...

...like REALLY hold it back.

This man...sounded like he was auditioning for "King Lear". No...really.

He was SO overdramatic that I think he should have been nominated for an Emmy.

Or an Oscar, or a Tony...or whatever they would call them in the religious world.

Hmm....a "Popey"?

He was shouting, and over-enunciating, and it was just all too much for me.

My Mother, seeing that I was losing it, grabbed my arm...I thought I was in trouble until I looked over at her, and she was looking down, likewise trying not to giggle.

Where was my father during all this?

Sitting next to us, staring forward with that "Dum-dee-dum-dee-doo" look on his face, which he always has.

Now, I love my Dad, but he's a very very simple man when it comes to his thought proscess.

1) Wife/Kids

2) Golf

3) Food

4) Work

And, it's quite disputable exactly how close in the running the first two are.

So, he just sort of goes along with anything, makes fairly witty and sarcastic remarks, usually aimed at me or my hair, and takes out the wallet when need be.

Anyway, I'm trying to make the best of church, singing those mundane songs with the garish organ accompaniment, and such.

I sort of wish that I had done this entry yesterday, because in the "dizboy's disturbing daily diet" section, I could have added:

1 Jesus Cracker

Or, the Eucharist, Communion, Host, as it's more widely known.

I don't know, I always feel strange taking that, like it's going to do something bad to me since I'm not very religious...

...like give me gas or something.

So when it was all over, I got to drive the new Explorer to the Cheesecake Factory, where my mother made this ironic quote about my change in eating habits:

"It's just so great to see you eating new things now. When you were little you were so picky, like fish, you wouldn't go near fish as a child...and look, now you love it, you love fish."

I had to excuse myself to the restroom to avoid the questionable fits of laughter which were arising from lungs at that very moment.

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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