One of the things that annoys me about some of my fellow Christians is their inconceivable inability to distinguish a False Prophet from a false idol.
The Bible warns us against both. But so many Christians don’t see the delineation that it scares me. So let’s clarify shall we? A false idol (or you could just say "idol" since presumably they're all false) would be someone or something that leads a Christian AWAY from their faith. Examples might include: Satanic worship, greed, pornography, hedonism; or if you are the type to see other religions as "the path to hell" this might also include anything non-Christian like say Buddhism, Judaism or Islam.
I’m not saying that I agree with that all those things are idolotrous nor will I debate what really goes in the Idol category but from a fundamentalist Christian standpoint I could see how these things could lead a Christian directly away from their professed faith. They either displace the values of Christ or refute the faith entirely (as in other religions). For this reason I don’t think false idols are really much of a threat to Christians. I mean they are obvious. They are so easy to spot it’s pathetic. They are the big red flashing “DANGER” signs for religious Christian fervor. We respond to them with a universal, "DUH!"
False Prophets on the other hand are far more insidious. They masquerade as Christians. They quote Bible verses. They start holy wars. They claim to be doing God’s work even though their actions seem to profit them more than they do the church. They turn a blind eye to injustice. And they do it all right under the noses of, and often with the overt approval of people who genuinely want to please Christ. The False Prophet doesn’t want you to renounce your faith, he wants to pervert it! He will make you a tool of the Enemy. Under his care your chilled Christian heart will learn to judge others mercilessly. You’ll mindlessly drive lost souls away from Christ or else pervert them as well.
The everyday Christian hears the False Prophet shout, “Honk if you love Jesus!!” and he/she HONKS like a crack addicted goose. The False Prophet sends an email claiming that CBS canceled Touched By An Angel because it was glorifying God and some atheist (who has oddly enough been dead for 10+ years) had protested it. In his/her righteous indignation the everyday Christian madly spams everyone in their address book with this lie without bothering to spend like 10 seconds to type in “http://www.snopes.com/” to see if it’s true or not; completely forgetting that the show hasn’t been on in like three years and the 9th commandment clearly states “thou shalt not bear false witness”.
The False Prophet claims that Jesus is his co-pilot as he orders the deaths of innocent people who stand in the way of his profiteering while ignoring the slaughter of other innocents who have nothing to offer him. The False Prophet places a magnifying glass over the lives of gays in love in order to distract the everyday Christian from the fact that he is robbing the poor and the elderly and decimating God's good earth.
The Bible doesn’t warn us about the dangers of false idols in the Last Days. It warns us about the dangers of False Prophets. False idols may be an opportunity for proselytizing and missionary work but they are no big threat to our salvation. Do not fear those who can destroy the body, fear those who can destroy the soul. Those who would use our faith against us are counting on us to be lazy. Certainly we are to be as innocent at doves, but we have to be as cunning as serpents. We are to take nothing for granted. Sometimes I think we as Christians are just so damn happy to hear somebody, anybody say “Thank You Jesus!” that we just “pishaw!” the bad behavior that is muddying up our shoes by association. It’s gotten so bad that the everyday Christian is actually apologizing for and rationalizing the sins of False Prophets. It’s a doomed path, if everyday Christians keep down that road, they’ll burn with them too.
Lucifer was an ANGEL of LIGHT. Let’s remember that. If he showed up at your door sporting horns, a pointy tail and a pitchfork you’d say, “Get thee off my porch Satan!” Right? That’s so hopeless he’s not gonna try that. The Devil is S-M-A-R-T and not only that he’s a snappy dresser. When he knocks on a Christian door he’s gonna be wearing his Sunday Best, carrying his Bible, there’ll be a cross around his neck. And after he offers to paint the blood of the lamb on your door he’s gonna ask you to sign a petition to fire that Lesbian schoolteacher who’s teaching your dyslexic son to read when no one else could and in exchange he’ll give you four tickets to a screening of Narnia. That doesn’t mean we can’t trust each other. But it does mean that we need to be on guard. For the Devil and his False Prophets are big toothy roving lions (and I ain't talking about Aslan, folks) looking for a tasty Christian morsel to maul.
But we’ll know true Christians by their love. The love of Christ that accepts and forgives others who can’t/won’t/don’t live up Gods standards. The love that would never send valiant men and women to sacrifice themselves in order to line the coffers of the wealthy. The love that asks WWJD instead of deciding to torture a prisoner of war. The love that sacrifices of itself. The love that tenderly cares for the poor. The love that rescues children. The love that delivers justice with mercy. That’s what you look for and if you don’t see that then check the size of their teeth.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Haunted.
When does a haunting begin?
I’ve always assumed that the memory of someone we love begins to haunt us after they die. But maybe death is like walking around the corner while singing a song. They are out of sight but you can still hear the tune. And maybe the haunting begins with a sweet little ditty that they begin to sing when we can still see them, hold them and even harmonize a bit.
My Dad is alive. But the other night when Michael was opening a bottle of wine he told me that for the last 3 years he’s been unable to open a bottle of wine without thinking of my Dad. That’s because the first time my folks came out to meet Michael he was zipping around the kitchen preparing dinner. At one point he pulled a corkscrew out of the drawer and deftly uncorked a bottle of Cabernet. Viewing his future son-in-law’s grace my Dad said, “Man, you sure know your way around a kitchen!”
That one statement comes to Michael’s mind every single time he opens a bottle of wine. Michael told me all this the other night and I couldn’t help but note that something in his voice when he told the story made me realize that Michael was simultaneously deeply flattered and proud that he impressed my Dad. Michael really values my Dad’s opinion, I’ve always known that. But I think it meant everything to him to know that he had won my Dad’s approval even in a small way.
“Ever since then,” Michael told me, “I haven’t been able to open a bottle of wine without thinking of your Dad. It’s gonna be like that for the rest of my life. It’s like he’s cursed me or something.” We laughed about it. But I realized that when my Dad eventually passes away (hopefully many, many years from now) that will be the way he haunts my husband. But the thing is, he’s already started haunting him.
So it begins now. Here I am contemplating the possibility of creating life and I am simultaneously obsessed with the ending of it. My grandmother is alive. But she who gave me my first cup of java haunts me daily when I have my morning cup. Michael’s mother is alive. But she haunts me every time I see the Oakland Raiders emblem and remember her referring to them as “those jerky Raiders!” because she doesn’t like to curse. My mother is still alive. And she haunts my every move because she really was my very first Best Friend and in some ways will always be. But I always think of her when I see the old Godzilla movies, the original King Kong, The Day The Earth Stood Still or a dozen other classics that she still obsesses over.
I wonder how I will haunt people. I wonder if I am already haunting them. Maybe spirits are not bound by time or space. Maybe they can travel back in time to their own lifetimes like some ghost of Christmas past. Maybe everyone I have ever loved or will love is here. It would be wonderful to imagine my future children are even at this moment haunting me in the little toys and baby things that I see in the stores. Or in the faces of children around me. I hope that I am haunting them too. Because if I am then I know that there is a bond that cannot be broken and that death is merely a corner that we all turn while singing our own sweet songs.
I’ve always assumed that the memory of someone we love begins to haunt us after they die. But maybe death is like walking around the corner while singing a song. They are out of sight but you can still hear the tune. And maybe the haunting begins with a sweet little ditty that they begin to sing when we can still see them, hold them and even harmonize a bit.
My Dad is alive. But the other night when Michael was opening a bottle of wine he told me that for the last 3 years he’s been unable to open a bottle of wine without thinking of my Dad. That’s because the first time my folks came out to meet Michael he was zipping around the kitchen preparing dinner. At one point he pulled a corkscrew out of the drawer and deftly uncorked a bottle of Cabernet. Viewing his future son-in-law’s grace my Dad said, “Man, you sure know your way around a kitchen!”
That one statement comes to Michael’s mind every single time he opens a bottle of wine. Michael told me all this the other night and I couldn’t help but note that something in his voice when he told the story made me realize that Michael was simultaneously deeply flattered and proud that he impressed my Dad. Michael really values my Dad’s opinion, I’ve always known that. But I think it meant everything to him to know that he had won my Dad’s approval even in a small way.
“Ever since then,” Michael told me, “I haven’t been able to open a bottle of wine without thinking of your Dad. It’s gonna be like that for the rest of my life. It’s like he’s cursed me or something.” We laughed about it. But I realized that when my Dad eventually passes away (hopefully many, many years from now) that will be the way he haunts my husband. But the thing is, he’s already started haunting him.
So it begins now. Here I am contemplating the possibility of creating life and I am simultaneously obsessed with the ending of it. My grandmother is alive. But she who gave me my first cup of java haunts me daily when I have my morning cup. Michael’s mother is alive. But she haunts me every time I see the Oakland Raiders emblem and remember her referring to them as “those jerky Raiders!” because she doesn’t like to curse. My mother is still alive. And she haunts my every move because she really was my very first Best Friend and in some ways will always be. But I always think of her when I see the old Godzilla movies, the original King Kong, The Day The Earth Stood Still or a dozen other classics that she still obsesses over.
I wonder how I will haunt people. I wonder if I am already haunting them. Maybe spirits are not bound by time or space. Maybe they can travel back in time to their own lifetimes like some ghost of Christmas past. Maybe everyone I have ever loved or will love is here. It would be wonderful to imagine my future children are even at this moment haunting me in the little toys and baby things that I see in the stores. Or in the faces of children around me. I hope that I am haunting them too. Because if I am then I know that there is a bond that cannot be broken and that death is merely a corner that we all turn while singing our own sweet songs.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
My Christmas Prayer
Dear God-
I know you’ve heard me say this before. But I really, really want a baby. You know I have that personal deadline of “be a mom for the first time before I’m 40.” Well my 39th birthday is like 40 days away so you know I’m really cutting it close here. While I respect the fact that you are not obligated to perform on my schedule, I might remind you of a certain promise you made a while back which you've kept so far. I'm just saying my foot is now tapping with "are we there yet" impatience.
Now according my fertility calendar I’m due to ovulate on your son’s birthday (give or take). So Michael and I will be “exchanging gifts” so to speak from now until then (and maybe on through the New Year just for good measure). In other words we’re doing our part. Do it to death practically… thank you for making the process so much fun, by the way. But you know all that “miracle of life” stuff is still open for you to step and in and “put a bow on it” as it were.
What I’m saying is: Make me a mommy for Christmas. Please.
Thank you. Amen.
-Girl
*Any of you prayerful folk who may be so inclined, please add an Amen. Think of it as a Pregnancy Petition To the Big "G" For GWAA.
I know you’ve heard me say this before. But I really, really want a baby. You know I have that personal deadline of “be a mom for the first time before I’m 40.” Well my 39th birthday is like 40 days away so you know I’m really cutting it close here. While I respect the fact that you are not obligated to perform on my schedule, I might remind you of a certain promise you made a while back which you've kept so far. I'm just saying my foot is now tapping with "are we there yet" impatience.
Now according my fertility calendar I’m due to ovulate on your son’s birthday (give or take). So Michael and I will be “exchanging gifts” so to speak from now until then (and maybe on through the New Year just for good measure). In other words we’re doing our part. Do it to death practically… thank you for making the process so much fun, by the way. But you know all that “miracle of life” stuff is still open for you to step and in and “put a bow on it” as it were.
What I’m saying is: Make me a mommy for Christmas. Please.
Thank you. Amen.
-Girl
*Any of you prayerful folk who may be so inclined, please add an Amen. Think of it as a Pregnancy Petition To the Big "G" For GWAA.
Friday, December 16, 2005
5 MORE Weird Habits
I’m tagging myself on from Brookes post.
Since I pretty much logged my embarrassing habits in this post and most of them are pretty weird, let’s just call this 5 MORE weird habits.
Since I pretty much logged my embarrassing habits in this post and most of them are pretty weird, let’s just call this 5 MORE weird habits.
- I have conversations with my cats. I do both sides of the conversation and yet somehow they get all the best lines.
- I sing many of my conversations with Michael. He does it too, so it isn’t just me. We do it country, bluesy, opera-style… all different music genres. It’s fun. We try to make things rhyme when we do it. However, it usually ends up with us agreeing that if we raise our kids this way they are going to be picked on really badly at school.
- I read Dear Abbey every morning at work and imagine what I would do if someone in my family behaved the way people in those letters do.
- I imagine different horrible ways I could die. I do this pretty much daily. However, when I actually get up to the moment of my death, I think of some miraculous way I could be saved or I just change the subject. (Example, this morning I had a nose bleed and imagined that it was a sign of a brain tumor caused by cell phone use. Then I decided I needed to do my nails this weekend no matter what, so I never actually imagined my final tragic moments as I succumb to brain cancer.)
- I dance for no reason without even realizing I’m doing it. No music playing or anything; I just start moving to whatever I’m hearing in my head (which is sometimes nothing.) Last night I was having a conversation (spoken not sung) with Michael and I started doing The Robot as I was standing there. He just looked at me like I was nuts and then started laughing.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Sultry Christmas Love Songs
I want to make a CD with the best Bluesy, Jazzy, Ballady and R&B Christmas Songs on it. I guess I’m looking for Christmas Love songs but it doesn’t have to be exclusively love songs. Just songs that would be great to slow dance to with your honey on Christmas Eve (have I given away my December 24th plans?)
Here’s what I have so far but I need more. Give me your best suggestions. Not just songs but whoever does the best rendition of it in your opinion. Hopefully they’ll be available on Itunes.
– Baby it’s Cold Outside (either Ella Fitzgerald’s version or the Harry Connick Jr. one)
– This Christmas (the Harry Connick Jr. version is my top pick)
– Santa Baby (Eartha Kitt – is there really anyone that matches up?)
– I Can’t Wait for Christmas – Mindy Abair
Also does anyone know where I can download “I’ve got some presents for Santa” by Sarah Taylor & Bill Mumy?
Update: I'm adding these to my list
-- Frosty’s Rag (Frosty the Snowman) Anita Baker
-- Merry Christmas Baby – Christina Aguilera or Chuck Berry or Etta James
-- Merry, Merry Christmas Baby - (I think this is different from the one above, but not sure)
-- Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer – Temptations or Ray Charles
-- The Man With The Bag – Kay Star
-- The Christmas Song – Nat King Cole
-- I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus – (Not sure who does the best version)
Here’s what I have so far but I need more. Give me your best suggestions. Not just songs but whoever does the best rendition of it in your opinion. Hopefully they’ll be available on Itunes.
– Baby it’s Cold Outside (either Ella Fitzgerald’s version or the Harry Connick Jr. one)
– This Christmas (the Harry Connick Jr. version is my top pick)
– Santa Baby (Eartha Kitt – is there really anyone that matches up?)
– I Can’t Wait for Christmas – Mindy Abair
Also does anyone know where I can download “I’ve got some presents for Santa” by Sarah Taylor & Bill Mumy?
Update: I'm adding these to my list
-- Frosty’s Rag (Frosty the Snowman) Anita Baker
-- Merry Christmas Baby – Christina Aguilera or Chuck Berry or Etta James
-- Merry, Merry Christmas Baby - (I think this is different from the one above, but not sure)
-- Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer – Temptations or Ray Charles
-- The Man With The Bag – Kay Star
-- The Christmas Song – Nat King Cole
-- I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus – (Not sure who does the best version)
Sunday, December 11, 2005
And Ye Shall Receive
I had a rough drive home Tuesday night. I was feeling down on myself. I haven't been doing the things I want to do. The things I should do. I spend too much. I eat like crap. I don't exercise. I'm not writing. I'm not focused at work. I don't pray enough. I feel like a hypocrit half the time. I was just not feeling happy.
So I started praying on the way home. I got really emotional. I started sobbing. Laying out my soul to God. Just telling Him all the ways I'd been letting myself and Him down. Finally I just said, "I know You can help me but I don't know where to start!"
Suddenly my eyes focused in on the licence plate of the car ahead of me. It was just a normal CA plate. A number followed by three letters and then three more numbers. But the letters incredibly spelled out the word "ASK."
I actually did a doubletake. ASK! Oh right that would make sense. And so I did. I went back over each my complaints and woes and ASKED for God's help (crying pretty much the whole time). I'm pretty sure He started working on things immediately because I had the presence of mind to ASK Him to help me get home without killing myself considering the fact I was crying so much.
After a few minutes I felt a sense of calm. The car was still in front of me. Then I laughed, "so what's that? Your version of a personalized licence plate? That was clever, really clever."
Michael called a few minutes later and I told him what happened. "You see, that's what I've been saying you just have to ask Him for help everyday and have faith." Yeah but it helps to here from the Big Guy Himself every so often.
So I started praying on the way home. I got really emotional. I started sobbing. Laying out my soul to God. Just telling Him all the ways I'd been letting myself and Him down. Finally I just said, "I know You can help me but I don't know where to start!"
Suddenly my eyes focused in on the licence plate of the car ahead of me. It was just a normal CA plate. A number followed by three letters and then three more numbers. But the letters incredibly spelled out the word "ASK."
I actually did a doubletake. ASK! Oh right that would make sense. And so I did. I went back over each my complaints and woes and ASKED for God's help (crying pretty much the whole time). I'm pretty sure He started working on things immediately because I had the presence of mind to ASK Him to help me get home without killing myself considering the fact I was crying so much.
After a few minutes I felt a sense of calm. The car was still in front of me. Then I laughed, "so what's that? Your version of a personalized licence plate? That was clever, really clever."
Seriously God is pretty cool.
Michael called a few minutes later and I told him what happened. "You see, that's what I've been saying you just have to ask Him for help everyday and have faith." Yeah but it helps to here from the Big Guy Himself every so often.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
If Only...
Gosh, it's like I could add some holly berries and it would be the perfect Christmas card!
Monday, December 05, 2005
Random Post
Ross is evil: I mean Ross Dress For Less not the character from Friends. I feel like I sell my soul to the devil every time I walk in there. So many lovely things to buy. Things that would look so nice in my house, on my body or on my feet. So inexpensive-seeming and yet where does my money go? Ross, foul soul-sucking money-eating store. I must stay away from thee!!
Cats: What the hell is it with them? Do they have to eat EVERY day? Greedy little poops. But they are cute. Unfortunately they think I live to serve them. Which is probably true.
Husband: He made me breakfast in bed yesterday. Fresh fruit, English muffin, steak and eggs. Complete with a tiny vase filled with tiny roses and a tea light candle on the tray. And the Sunday paper. Hmmm… make note: Keep Him!!
Work: Tell me why I need to come here again? Oh right!....
Money: Never enough of it to meet my needs… er, desires. I must learn not to spend it. But it’s made for spending. So if I just have it sitting a bank account it’s bound to go stale, no?
Christmas: I’m getting mildly annoyed with the “Happy Holidays” thing. I know not everybody’s a Christian. But I like saying "Merry Christmas." Get over it if you don’t like it. I think I will alternate. Maybe next year I will do "Happy Holidays." But right now I need a "Merry Christmas" year.
Blogs: I know you are out there. But I’m boring you all to tears with my lack of blogging. But that whole “havin’ a job” deal is slowin’ my flow. All I have time for is a random post like this. *sigh*
Cats: What the hell is it with them? Do they have to eat EVERY day? Greedy little poops. But they are cute. Unfortunately they think I live to serve them. Which is probably true.
Husband: He made me breakfast in bed yesterday. Fresh fruit, English muffin, steak and eggs. Complete with a tiny vase filled with tiny roses and a tea light candle on the tray. And the Sunday paper. Hmmm… make note: Keep Him!!
Work: Tell me why I need to come here again? Oh right!....
Money: Never enough of it to meet my needs… er, desires. I must learn not to spend it. But it’s made for spending. So if I just have it sitting a bank account it’s bound to go stale, no?
Christmas: I’m getting mildly annoyed with the “Happy Holidays” thing. I know not everybody’s a Christian. But I like saying "Merry Christmas." Get over it if you don’t like it. I think I will alternate. Maybe next year I will do "Happy Holidays." But right now I need a "Merry Christmas" year.
Blogs: I know you are out there. But I’m boring you all to tears with my lack of blogging. But that whole “havin’ a job” deal is slowin’ my flow. All I have time for is a random post like this. *sigh*
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Word Verification
I hate that I have to do it. But I'm totally fed up with the Spammenters. Word verification is now active. :|
Friday, November 18, 2005
Honeymoon Highlights
For the most part there was sex, tropical drinks, sunshine and sleep. But here are a few highlights for you to enjoy.
Alibi Loses Her Mind
I don’t like to fly. I get nervous. Mainly I get nervous when I’m packing and when I’m on my way to the airport. Once I’m at the airport and checked in, I can take deep breaths and relax and I’m fine. This is why I like to get to the airport the recommended 2 hours ahead of time. I need the chill time. My husband forgot this. He was taking his own sweet time. I was wigging out but trying not to show it. We live an hour away from the airport. Our flight was in an hour and forty minutes. You think “okay you got forty minutes to spare” but in my mind I’m thinking “we have to park, take the shuttle to the terminal, check our bags, go through security and I still need a ½ hour to chill out. WE’RE LATE!!!” My husband has gone to the bathroom yet again and I am sitting in the car waiting. So I started yelling at my car. Loudly. He’s still not coming. I’m holding the steering wheel in a death grip. Finally I start pounding the steering wheel and yell some more. I look over and Michael is standing outside the car looking frightened. I have now scared the crap out of my husband. I drive like 90 miles an hour and we get to the parking structure in ½ hour. As we wait for the shuttle I apologize and remind him of my flying needs. “Okay,” he says still a bit nervous and annoyed, “I understand and I’m sorry I took so long. But this is NOT a good way to start out our honeymoon.”
We Have Been Chosen!
Our honeymoon destination was the Gran Mayan resort in Nuevo Vallarta (outside Puerto Vallarta). My mom said it was nice. Really nice. She did say “really” so I should have heeded that. But I figured whatever, nice hotel, Mexico, on the beach. How good does it have to be? My parents had taken care of the accommodations so it was basically a free honeymoon. I wasn’t going to complain no matter what it was like. Well we told the cab driver we are at the Mayan Palace (wrong place) so he drove us there and we were like “damn, this place is pretty cool looking.” We start to pull our bags out the car and the bell man looks at our confirmation form and says, “oh no you are next door.” Great, we don’t get to stay at the cool place. Then he says “The Gran Mayan is the top, the best place.” Well why didn’t you say so!!! We get over to the Gran Mayan and damn skippy if that place wasn’t the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen. Better than the Four Seasons we stayed at for the 4th of July. You walk past the alabaster entry into a stone foyer and there are like eight 40 foot tall Mayan statues lining the entrance and a 40 foot fountain in front of you. Our jaws just fell open. Our room was really an apartment with a full kitchen, living room, bedroom, bath and a balcony with a spectacular ocean view. Oh and the balcony had its own private wading pool! Michael started jumping up and down like a little kid. We giddily called my parents to thank them and Michael jokingly said, “Hey, you think next time you spring for decent hotel for us? Jeez!”
WONDERFUL!!!!
The first night we went to one of the restaurants on the resort. Since the regular tourist season hadn’t quite started the resort was maybe only at 20% capacity. We had a fabulous dinner with an awesome waiter. We shared a bottle of wine. That is I had a glass and Michael drank the rest. The wine and the service went to his head a little because he began talking about how great our waiter was and why can’t other people in service industries be nicer. Why are they so rude? This extended into a long diatribe on rude people, people with no morals, ethically challenged people, judgmental people, judgmental religious people, corrupt government officials, George Bush, unjust wars, crime, racism, apathy, general God-less-ness and a whole host of other peeves that my normally quiet husband has apparently been holding inside for quite some time. The conversation/speech was so long that it continued all the way back to the hotel and up the elevator to our room. I opened the door and Michael followed me in ranting about presidential misconduct the whole time. Now because the amount of alcohol he’d consumed and the fact that he’s got something of a sharp wit he was being outrageously funny and downright profane in his ranting. But I was cracking up the whole time so I just let him rant. Once we were in the room, his volume increased and the sound echoed off the stone tile floors of our room. But the walls were pretty thick so I didn’t concern myself. I took off my clothes and requested a massage from Rant Man which he happily obliged without even breaking his verbal stride. By now he was annoying himself. “My god somebody shut me up!” he’d yell and then proceed to harangue some other topic with obnoxious splendor. We’d been back in the room about 45 minutes when he got up to go get a drink of water. As he walked in to the kitchen I hear him yell back “WONDERFUL!!! The door is WIDE OPEN!!” He’d forgotten to close it and had been yelling at the top of his voice the whole time. I started laughing hysterically.
The next day we did a test. I stood all the way down the hall by the elevator. He stood in our room with the door open and said in a normal conversational voice, “honey can you here me?” With the stone hallways carrying his voice to me I heard him crystal clear. So anyone and everyone on that floor had to hear every word. I don’t know how someone didn’t come down the hall and punch him out. I suppose there weren’t many Republicans on that floor or they might have killed us. I guess we were lucky the hotel wasn’t at full capacity.
Lower Life Forms
The Gran Mayan is a timeshare. My parents have been doing the timeshare thing for years. It makes sense for them. They’re retired and they like to travel. Michael and I rarely travel. So as will happen when the Timeshare Uninitiated venture into foreign lands we were duped into sitting through the Sales Pitch. Well, they promised us 10% off all our meals…. and a free lunch… and a 500 peso gift card!!!! We weren’t going to buy anything and we told them that. Now my strategy with these things has always been to listen politely and agree with how nice everything is and then when they ask if I want in I just say “NO” repeatedly without any explanation. Michael’s strategy is to convince them that even though “we have money and could buy one right now! Today!” that we don’t need a time share. Now in the shark pool of timeshare sales, which one of us is bleeding? I could not believe he actually told them we have money. That we could write a check right there and pay for the biggest place they had but we simply have other plans for our money. Now all that is true of course but damn it, I didn’t want them to know that. Once they know, they are like pit bulls they won’t let go until all the blood has drained from your body and you stop quivering. So of course they kept coming at us with deal after deal. I mean they started out with the $40K deal and ended up with something in the neighborhood of $500 for pretty much the same thing. We were like WTF?! How does THAT work?! And they kept saying that we had to make a decision right there that minute because they were bound by Mexican Law (supposedly enforced by some red-coated Mexican "officials" who appeared to be drinking and watching tv in a nearby lounge) to only offer such amazing deals once and only once. If turned them down our names would go into a master computer and if we ever wanted to buy in later we be blacklisted to pay top dollar -- presumably $80K+. All of this was a load of crap and Michael told them that to their faces-- it was pretty funny to watch their expressions as the denied it. We could have gotten up and left of course but we were still holding out for the 500 peso gift card so we stuck it out. No less than 7 different sales guys tag teamed us for the four hour session (that was billed as 90 minutes) during which they offered us about 25 different time share deals. By the time we did get up and walk, Michael was livid. "Those bastards! Why did I tell them I have money? I should have told them that we are broke and that I'm unemployed and living off you!" I just kind of nodded and let him rant. It took me 2 days to calm him down. Thank god we remembered to close the door that night.
Michael Loses His Mind
Honeymoon. Sounds sweet doesn’t it? Well it isn’t always. Couples do fight. Even couples in love. Michael is a homebody. Although he enjoys a good vacation he really prefers to be home. So as the week wore on he was getting a bit homesick. But I think it was subconscious because it manifested itself in the form crabbiness. He pretty much started bitching about everything. The service, the people, (he still lauded our waiter from the first night but everyone else sucked). This wasn’t the righteous humorous rant of the first night. This was nitpicky bitching about stuff that really didn’t matter. Since I was pretty much having a good time I didn’t want to let him bring me down so I … well I tuned him out. I just nodded and smiled and pretended to listen. He caught on to this during a romantic dinner cruise on the fourth night. On the way back on the boat he pretty much called me out on it and I tried to deny it. But he kept pushing. So finally I just told him that it was all his bitching that was making me tune him out. “So I should just let people walk all over me?! You’re like everyone else. You let it all slide. You don’t stand up for yourself.” Now this is not even remotely true and he knows it. In fact, I can be a real bitch in the trenches. But I pick my battles. If the phone company or a credit card company is trying to screw us with excess fees I will clamp on like an alligator on a fisherman’s arm until I get my way. But if a Mexican busboy who barely speaks English can’t tell me the vineyard of what is quite obviously some common red table wine from a jug because he doesn’t know it and can’t understand me anyway I’m not gonna get ruffled. (That had happened earlier and Michael started complaining that people don’t care about their jobs and when he was a waiter for that brief two weeks back in the 80’s he’d memorized a whole wine list plus the day’s specials with all the ingredients and…yada-yada...) After that little argument we didn’t speak to each other pretty much the rest of the night. I did apologize to him before we went to bed but he pretended to be asleep. The next morning I apologized again just for good measure and he guiltily said that it had been all his fault (true ‘nuff) and how could he expect me to listen when he’d been acting like a jackass (again, true.) I promised to listen to him and not pretend to hear something when I hadn’t actually heard him or even been listening. We topped it all off with make-up sex and we were back to the sweet part of the Honeymoon.
Ahhhh…. I love being married.
Alibi Loses Her Mind
I don’t like to fly. I get nervous. Mainly I get nervous when I’m packing and when I’m on my way to the airport. Once I’m at the airport and checked in, I can take deep breaths and relax and I’m fine. This is why I like to get to the airport the recommended 2 hours ahead of time. I need the chill time. My husband forgot this. He was taking his own sweet time. I was wigging out but trying not to show it. We live an hour away from the airport. Our flight was in an hour and forty minutes. You think “okay you got forty minutes to spare” but in my mind I’m thinking “we have to park, take the shuttle to the terminal, check our bags, go through security and I still need a ½ hour to chill out. WE’RE LATE!!!” My husband has gone to the bathroom yet again and I am sitting in the car waiting. So I started yelling at my car. Loudly. He’s still not coming. I’m holding the steering wheel in a death grip. Finally I start pounding the steering wheel and yell some more. I look over and Michael is standing outside the car looking frightened. I have now scared the crap out of my husband. I drive like 90 miles an hour and we get to the parking structure in ½ hour. As we wait for the shuttle I apologize and remind him of my flying needs. “Okay,” he says still a bit nervous and annoyed, “I understand and I’m sorry I took so long. But this is NOT a good way to start out our honeymoon.”
We Have Been Chosen!
Our honeymoon destination was the Gran Mayan resort in Nuevo Vallarta (outside Puerto Vallarta). My mom said it was nice. Really nice. She did say “really” so I should have heeded that. But I figured whatever, nice hotel, Mexico, on the beach. How good does it have to be? My parents had taken care of the accommodations so it was basically a free honeymoon. I wasn’t going to complain no matter what it was like. Well we told the cab driver we are at the Mayan Palace (wrong place) so he drove us there and we were like “damn, this place is pretty cool looking.” We start to pull our bags out the car and the bell man looks at our confirmation form and says, “oh no you are next door.” Great, we don’t get to stay at the cool place. Then he says “The Gran Mayan is the top, the best place.” Well why didn’t you say so!!! We get over to the Gran Mayan and damn skippy if that place wasn’t the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen. Better than the Four Seasons we stayed at for the 4th of July. You walk past the alabaster entry into a stone foyer and there are like eight 40 foot tall Mayan statues lining the entrance and a 40 foot fountain in front of you. Our jaws just fell open. Our room was really an apartment with a full kitchen, living room, bedroom, bath and a balcony with a spectacular ocean view. Oh and the balcony had its own private wading pool! Michael started jumping up and down like a little kid. We giddily called my parents to thank them and Michael jokingly said, “Hey, you think next time you spring for decent hotel for us? Jeez!”
WONDERFUL!!!!
The first night we went to one of the restaurants on the resort. Since the regular tourist season hadn’t quite started the resort was maybe only at 20% capacity. We had a fabulous dinner with an awesome waiter. We shared a bottle of wine. That is I had a glass and Michael drank the rest. The wine and the service went to his head a little because he began talking about how great our waiter was and why can’t other people in service industries be nicer. Why are they so rude? This extended into a long diatribe on rude people, people with no morals, ethically challenged people, judgmental people, judgmental religious people, corrupt government officials, George Bush, unjust wars, crime, racism, apathy, general God-less-ness and a whole host of other peeves that my normally quiet husband has apparently been holding inside for quite some time. The conversation/speech was so long that it continued all the way back to the hotel and up the elevator to our room. I opened the door and Michael followed me in ranting about presidential misconduct the whole time. Now because the amount of alcohol he’d consumed and the fact that he’s got something of a sharp wit he was being outrageously funny and downright profane in his ranting. But I was cracking up the whole time so I just let him rant. Once we were in the room, his volume increased and the sound echoed off the stone tile floors of our room. But the walls were pretty thick so I didn’t concern myself. I took off my clothes and requested a massage from Rant Man which he happily obliged without even breaking his verbal stride. By now he was annoying himself. “My god somebody shut me up!” he’d yell and then proceed to harangue some other topic with obnoxious splendor. We’d been back in the room about 45 minutes when he got up to go get a drink of water. As he walked in to the kitchen I hear him yell back “WONDERFUL!!! The door is WIDE OPEN!!” He’d forgotten to close it and had been yelling at the top of his voice the whole time. I started laughing hysterically.
The next day we did a test. I stood all the way down the hall by the elevator. He stood in our room with the door open and said in a normal conversational voice, “honey can you here me?” With the stone hallways carrying his voice to me I heard him crystal clear. So anyone and everyone on that floor had to hear every word. I don’t know how someone didn’t come down the hall and punch him out. I suppose there weren’t many Republicans on that floor or they might have killed us. I guess we were lucky the hotel wasn’t at full capacity.
Lower Life Forms
The Gran Mayan is a timeshare. My parents have been doing the timeshare thing for years. It makes sense for them. They’re retired and they like to travel. Michael and I rarely travel. So as will happen when the Timeshare Uninitiated venture into foreign lands we were duped into sitting through the Sales Pitch. Well, they promised us 10% off all our meals…. and a free lunch… and a 500 peso gift card!!!! We weren’t going to buy anything and we told them that. Now my strategy with these things has always been to listen politely and agree with how nice everything is and then when they ask if I want in I just say “NO” repeatedly without any explanation. Michael’s strategy is to convince them that even though “we have money and could buy one right now! Today!” that we don’t need a time share. Now in the shark pool of timeshare sales, which one of us is bleeding? I could not believe he actually told them we have money. That we could write a check right there and pay for the biggest place they had but we simply have other plans for our money. Now all that is true of course but damn it, I didn’t want them to know that. Once they know, they are like pit bulls they won’t let go until all the blood has drained from your body and you stop quivering. So of course they kept coming at us with deal after deal. I mean they started out with the $40K deal and ended up with something in the neighborhood of $500 for pretty much the same thing. We were like WTF?! How does THAT work?! And they kept saying that we had to make a decision right there that minute because they were bound by Mexican Law (supposedly enforced by some red-coated Mexican "officials" who appeared to be drinking and watching tv in a nearby lounge) to only offer such amazing deals once and only once. If turned them down our names would go into a master computer and if we ever wanted to buy in later we be blacklisted to pay top dollar -- presumably $80K+. All of this was a load of crap and Michael told them that to their faces-- it was pretty funny to watch their expressions as the denied it. We could have gotten up and left of course but we were still holding out for the 500 peso gift card so we stuck it out. No less than 7 different sales guys tag teamed us for the four hour session (that was billed as 90 minutes) during which they offered us about 25 different time share deals. By the time we did get up and walk, Michael was livid. "Those bastards! Why did I tell them I have money? I should have told them that we are broke and that I'm unemployed and living off you!" I just kind of nodded and let him rant. It took me 2 days to calm him down. Thank god we remembered to close the door that night.
Michael Loses His Mind
Honeymoon. Sounds sweet doesn’t it? Well it isn’t always. Couples do fight. Even couples in love. Michael is a homebody. Although he enjoys a good vacation he really prefers to be home. So as the week wore on he was getting a bit homesick. But I think it was subconscious because it manifested itself in the form crabbiness. He pretty much started bitching about everything. The service, the people, (he still lauded our waiter from the first night but everyone else sucked). This wasn’t the righteous humorous rant of the first night. This was nitpicky bitching about stuff that really didn’t matter. Since I was pretty much having a good time I didn’t want to let him bring me down so I … well I tuned him out. I just nodded and smiled and pretended to listen. He caught on to this during a romantic dinner cruise on the fourth night. On the way back on the boat he pretty much called me out on it and I tried to deny it. But he kept pushing. So finally I just told him that it was all his bitching that was making me tune him out. “So I should just let people walk all over me?! You’re like everyone else. You let it all slide. You don’t stand up for yourself.” Now this is not even remotely true and he knows it. In fact, I can be a real bitch in the trenches. But I pick my battles. If the phone company or a credit card company is trying to screw us with excess fees I will clamp on like an alligator on a fisherman’s arm until I get my way. But if a Mexican busboy who barely speaks English can’t tell me the vineyard of what is quite obviously some common red table wine from a jug because he doesn’t know it and can’t understand me anyway I’m not gonna get ruffled. (That had happened earlier and Michael started complaining that people don’t care about their jobs and when he was a waiter for that brief two weeks back in the 80’s he’d memorized a whole wine list plus the day’s specials with all the ingredients and…yada-yada...) After that little argument we didn’t speak to each other pretty much the rest of the night. I did apologize to him before we went to bed but he pretended to be asleep. The next morning I apologized again just for good measure and he guiltily said that it had been all his fault (true ‘nuff) and how could he expect me to listen when he’d been acting like a jackass (again, true.) I promised to listen to him and not pretend to hear something when I hadn’t actually heard him or even been listening. We topped it all off with make-up sex and we were back to the sweet part of the Honeymoon.
Ahhhh…. I love being married.
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