Anxiety Blows Chunks, Definitely Eggregious, Faking Great Hype…

Yeah it’s an alphabet acrostic.  I’m feeling the tightening threads woven into the net surrounding my soul.  It’s an invisible net.  I’ve imagined it.  It’s not there, but I feel it.  The thing I’m worried about hasn’t happened, might not happen at all, and yet it worries me.

It represents me, being potentially forced to make an uncomfortable and somewhat awkward decision, that changes things.  I hate change.  I want things to stay the same, or change in a positive way.  For instance, a change I would invite would be for that Publishers Clearinghouse van to stop at my door, bring me roses and champagne and a lifetime of having enough cash at all times to satisfy my bill collectors.  I have a plan for this, and that’s why I’m completely comfortable with the change, should it occur.  Firstly, I’ve never been given roses, but it’s totally platonic of the person bringing them and I can regift them to my wife because she likes those.  And second, I don’t particularly like champagne, so she can have that too, along with whomever comes for the ride in the van.

Mrs M jokes at me, her little passive aggressive way of not quite pissing me off by telling me we need more money.  She says I have an agua d’grifo budget and $12-for-a-6-pack dreams.  Bitch.  Here, drink this tacky PCH champagne, because we still don’t know any better, and shut the hell up. (Just in case you’re not a native FrendSpanklish speaker, “agua d’grifo” is mock Spanish with mock French affect, for fucking tap water.)  Those who speak Spanish, if they actually read my blog, would be …confused.  Scratching their heads, they’d think, “QEJ?” (Spanish for “wtf?”) and they’d hit that translate button so they could read it in something closer to Spanish.  FrendSpanklish, I think I’ve invented a new fucking word and a brand new language! Write it down, I’m going to copyright that shit.  It’s saucy (or saucier) because it’s got French in it, and because it sounds like we’re spanking our friend(s), and it’s got enough Spanish in it that I needed those letters, and it’s maybe a little English too.

All this to distract myself from the anxiety I’ll face this weekend, when I might have to change a major thing in my life, and, did I mention I hate change?  Here’s what happened.  They sang a song.

I know.  Deon, wtf?  (or is that QEJ?)  Did they sing it badly?  Why are you acting all triggered and shit?

It’s not the song, it’s the lyrics. They aren’t correct.  They represent doctrinal heresy.  So I got on my email soap box and sent a message alerting them about the mistake.  But they like repeating new songs, so I’m concerned they’ll do this one again soon.  If they don’t fix the song’s teaching, and I even gave them a simple way to do it, I’m going to quit.  I’m not a drama queen, I’ll just quietly slip out the back door and not come back.  I’m really praying they don’t do that, because I don’t want to quit.  Then I’d have to figure out where I can go and take my whole family with me.

I’m not feeling very exploratory.  We did this when we moved here and Mrs M picked the one of the two we were thinking of.  They were both on the same street.  Now the second one has money and land picked to move, but is in a dispute with some people who don’t want a church on their street.  I mean, I have heard of the neighbors protesting another bar, another casino, another strip club  (sorry, ladies!), another den of ill repute, but a Christian church?!

I don’t want to go somewhere there are protesters, because they give me a panic attack which may, in defense of myself and my family, result in me flattening them and getting arrested.  And I don’t want to get arrested for them being stupid.  And I don’t want to drive all over creation to find a new church that teaches it right.  And I don’t think I have the energy to plant my own church.  Although thinking of a name might be amusing…

Church of Mumple-Nap-Police, in honor of being arrested for decking protestors or whacking them over the head with my Bible (it’s not supposed to be a club, but if I have to defend myself…) The Church of the O, Deon.  Paul Donovan would probably sue me, and that’s if the lightning bolts didn’t kill me first.  Dogma a Go Go.  Mumplechurch. First Den of Distilled Wisdom. MumpleGrill, Bar, and Church.  Church of Giving It a Second Shot.  First Church of Mumple+Stein.  God, Grace, Grog, and Grill.  (That’s right, I’ve got your 4G, right here!)  Soul Tonic, with a Twist.  Doctor Deon’s House of Theology and Whiskey.  Nah, I’d have to go back to school for that one.  And most seminaries frown on studying at least one of those.  But SoulTonic is pretty good and doesn’t draw undue attention to Pastor D.

I’m praying I don’t have to quit and hoping they don’t sing that song at all.

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