Touchdown Jesus gonna signal a touchdown...

Touchdown Jesus: 6-story Jesus statue in Ohio struck by lightning - latimes.com

Since the death of beloved Touchdown Jesus, I have not quite been the same. In fact I feel that the death of Touchdown Jesus has had a direct effect on my wikipedia searches involving Mormonism. Though he will always be Touchdown Jesus to me...we can only hope he will be resurrected from the ashes to once again signal a glourious touchdown for Heaven and all of the Lord's holy hosts once more. Personally, I think someone needs to get on the ball and write a country song about Touchdown Jesus. I've already penned some of the lines...

"Touchdown Jesus gonna signal a touchdown,
Touchdown Jesus gonna score in the endzone,
Touchdown Jesus."

Oh, and I do believe that there is a facebook page dedicated to Touchdown Jesus. Which thankfully someone else started and I don't have to get that started up on my own....cause I'm lazy.

"Touchdown Jesus gonna signal a touchdown,
Touchdown Jesus gonna smite the opposing team,
Touchdown Jesus..."

Catchy.

Things that Seem Still are still Changing

*I can't help but feel a twing of regret for having come back to the house. I feel almost as though I was on the verge of a new current in my life and the moment it got a little rough I cut and ran. I kept telling myself that this was something I would have to do alone, since I've managed to alienate everyone I used to know. But doing it on my own, with no guidance, no reassurance, no one to drink a beer with is difficult.
*I'm pretty sure that I've done irreversible damage to the relationship and that there is no going back. Which perhaps is a good thing. I don't know. I feel like I care less now, so things that would have stopped me don't seem so formidable now. Like my fiance being weird about my friends or locking me out of the house if I stay out with them or making me nervous even to talk on the phone with them. Is this the way a person is supposed to feel in a serious relationship? I'm almost thirty and I feel like a trapped little mouse scared of everyone and everything. Tell me life is not supposed to be this way...or is this as good as it gets.
*You know I keep telling myself, family first, family first, family first. I sorta miss my friends though...just a little...its been a long time though. Very long.

"Even the things that stay still...are still...changing..."--Ben Folds

Secretly Obsessed

*Currently I am secretly obsessed with Brandon Flowers of the Killers. He is just hot hot hot to me but dresses ten times better then I do on even his worst day. He makes me all tingly inside especially when he's rocking the moustache...and he's friggin' Mormon. Dude, I would become Mormon for that man. His wife did. I could do it...mhahaha...he's frickin' hot...hot...damn. His voice, his moustache...his freaking face....ahh...alas....actually I don't think I could become Mormon...I mean maybe...but I'm not really looking to having ten billion children....is that a stereotype of being Mormon? I don't know...and I really have problems with the whole Joseph Smith stuff...book of Mormon...scary stuff...Jesus in America...hmmm...Donnie and Marie....even scarier. But uh Brandon Flowers...maybe I'll become a Mormon for you...since I take all my great religious cues from the back of cars and stuff.

*Oh, and I don't think I would make it out in the desert of Nevada. Just saying. You know there's f'ing scorpions and snakes and f'ing dragons for all I friggin' know out there. But um...maybe I could do it. You know, once I get over the initial heat and constant fear of death from some weird creature or plant or what have you...I could do it. Aaaahhhh....sure. Totally.

*Also I thought this was hilarious and had to post it. I'm sure they're related....mahahaha....dude that guy is a football player. What a wuss ass name for a football player.

A New Chance

*I've gone home, where ever that is, right now. I've left my mother's house and went back to the home that I share with my fiance and the children. Does this make me happier? Slightly. Does this fix the problems? Not really. I implored to my fiance that the drinking, the excessive drinking, has to end and yet now I've become somewhat convinced that now he's just trying to hide it from me. I don't know if losing me completely has soaked in to his brain. It seems to have not. I'm trying to understand my motives for coming back home, a moment of weakness, I suppose. I was struck with the thought yesterday that honestly, the week that I had been gone I hadn't really missed him at all. That's a strange thought.
*I want someone to fight over me. Is that too much to ask? I'm not talking swords and daggers and a fight to the death, really because there's no one else fighting or wanting to be with me--but I'm just talking about effort. Make the goddamn effort to show how miserable you would be without me. I mean, besides letting the house go to shits, I don't think that qualifies as showing me how much you care. I don't know...maybe I'm a cold, heartless bitch. Not, maybe...this whole week has pretty much certified that for me. Sign sealed and delievered...cold heartless beotch...I'm yours.

Those crazy drunken boys.

*The other thing I wanted to write about today was that I had a phone conversation with my fiance's sister. I told her that I had not been at the house for many days and that her brother has an alcohol problem that he needs help with. I told her that he's not physically abusive, but mentally when he's drunk. (Though I didn't tell her he's kinda mentally abusive too when he's sober...details, eh?) Her response was that she thought all guys were mentally abusive when they're drunk. I was shocked by what she was saying. I was pretty sure this wasn't true. Man, what? Like a dude gets drunk and it's mental abuse time! Woo! Isn't that the party that all the ladies want to flock to? It was kinda sad for her to say that and it really stuck out in my mind. Dudes, you gotta prove that theory wrong!

Mom's house

*Though me and my fiance have not spoken to each other in what seems like almost a week, he keeps sending me text messages when he gets off work at night. I purposely have been turning off my phones sounds so I have no idea about these texts and so I can sleep at night (somewhat). Lately he's sent a repeat one, "How long are you staying at your mom's house?" The first time I responded with a "I don't know." and now I'm a little baffled as to what I should respond.
*It seems insane to me slightly, that he would even want me to come home at this point. What do I have to come home to? A silence between us, me sleeping alone in a bed? These things don't appeal to me at all. I know that we do need to talk, though I dread it so. My stomach turns and grinds everytime I think of him yelling or becoming upset or even looking at me slightly askew. I always crumble before him when he does this thing and though I wish I could just avoid the situation and never see him again...we have kids together.

Revenge of Barbie

*I was thinking of something righteous to post as I was sitting on my mom's computer waiting for the blogger screen to load. Something that would explain my own personal solitude when I happened to take a real gander at something my four year old son had brought in to the room for me to look at. You know you do it too, so don't scoff at me. Your kid brings in something for you to look at it and you look at it without the faintest hint of actually looking at it. I wonder what kids really think when we do that? Is it something they will throw back in our faces years from now when they're frothing at the jaws of hatred and angst toward us. Possibly.
*If my son, however, doesn't bring up the fact that I did not readily pay attention to this Peek-a-boo petites Barbie crap he brought in for me to look at, I think I'll be at peace with that. Or think its hilarious when he does...
*Anyway, it was something he found while scrounging around my mother's house today. It was my niece's/his cousin's though it's from 2008 and I have no idea why its still floating around the place. It's one of those inserts that they put in with toys, showing you all the other little bullshit your child can sit and drool over and whine and beg and moan over. It's for these little minature Barbies and while I was noting how few little petite Barbies of ethnicity they're seem to be, I came upon a row of five that suddenly filled me with dread. They have such fanciful names as True Love Laura, Beautiful Bride Becky, Li'l Bride Lacy, Blushing Bride Blaise (how the freak do you pronounce that?) and Wedding Day Delia. By the end of the row I was like, "Ew, no!" It really freaked my shit out.
*What the freak are we teaching little girls? Blushing Bride Blaise? Fuck Blushing Bride Blaise! You will be timid and meek and always lovely and especially on your wedding day, you will be blushing. Screw you, you pieces of crap! Why don't they make groom dolls for boys? What? They would hate that? They would be like, "Ew, gross." What the freak is this crap?! Whhhyyy?
*I had to take a second and wonder why I was freaking out slightly. Was it because my own wedding day quite possibly won't be so "blushing" or fantastically fairytalish? That quite possibly it might be lame, at a courthouse, without the dress I want and marrying someone, I'm not even quite sure I want to marry and watch nose hair begin to sprout out of his nose as he grows older? In my head I try to manuever the pieces around to try and see it in a better light, on a bright side, on how my life was supposed to be. But there's no moving these things. And even as I try to push away, I'm terrifed of being Wedding Day Delia.
*Is it wrong of me to want to push against everything that most women my age paw and scratch and claw at to get to? To that fabled wedding day, to that fabled marriage, to that fabled altar.