One Egg Shy

The musings of Chris. Writer, humanitarian, hero.

Friday, April 28, 2006

If Jesus had IM

Don't forget to check out the rest of OneEggShy while you're here!

Apostle#7: hey
JcDaMessiah: Yo, what's up?
Apostle#7: Umm...well, there's this wedding today, you wanna go?
JcDaMessiah: Okay. Sounds fun. Will there be dancing?
Apostle#7: Prolly.
JcDaMessiah: because you know I love to break it down.
Apostle#7: Oh, I know. But listen...
JcDaMessiah: What moves should I do?
JcDaMessiah: I'll start with something basic and work up to the complicated dances once I get fired up.
Apostle#7: :) yeah. But I heard they don't have much that cool?
JcDaMessiah: Not enough wine?
Apostle#7: thats what i heard.
JcDaMessiah: Crap. I need to have a good buzz on to attempt my new dance move.
Apostle#7: ???
JcDaMessiah: I call it the water walk. It'll be awesome. But anyway, will they have other things to drink?
Apostle#7: yeah, prolly. Im sure they'll have water.
JcDaMessiah: If they run out of wine, i'll figure something out. I really want to dance.
Apostle#7: okay, awesome! I'll see you over there. l8r

JcDaMessiah: Simon.
SimonSays: Hey, JC, what's up?
Listen, I've been thinking...
SimonSays: ???
You know you're my favorite and everything, right?
SimonSays: Yeah...
Well, I think you need a new name.
SimonSays: You mean SN?
Yeah, that too, eventually...but also a new, you know, name.
SimonSays: Oh.
SimonSays: Are you pulling my leg? Who put you up to this? Thomas? Nah, I doubt it. It was my bro, wasn't it?
SimonSays: Jesus?
Auto response from JcDaMessiah:
SimonSays: It was Andrew, I know it.
Sorry, I'm back. Mary called.
SimonSays: Your mom? How's she doin?
JcDaMessiah:, Magdalene...
SimonSays: Oh. You guys still talking?
It's not like that.
SimonSays: yeah, yeah, I'm sure. I know.
You know I wouldn't do that. We're just friends. I had her blocked for a while, but she's back on my list.
SimonSays: I believe you. Don't sweat it.
Anyway, as for the new name...
SimonSays: Right, right.
I was thinking Cain. How's that sound?
SimonSays: cain? Hmm...
Yeah, I thought that naming you after, you know, the bad guy, that you'd like reverse the negative image the name has.
SimonSays: Yeah, I guess that makes sense...
JK! I was just messing with you. Lol.
SimonSays: What?! I KNEW IT! I'm gonna kill Andrew. LOL! And here I thought you really wanted me to change my name. LOL.
SimonSays: What? Mary call again?
No...I was actually just kidding about Cain being your new name. I really do want you to change it...
SimonSays: Oh.
SimonSays: No big deal. What were you thinking?
How do you like Peter?
SimonSays: Peter? That's not bad.
I was thinking, you know, because you're going to be my rock. When I'm, you know, gone...
SimonSays: Okay, sure, Peter works. Whatever you think, So you are still leaving? Your Dad hasn't changed his mind?
I can't get ahold of him...he's always away.
SimonSays: Oh. Well, maybe he'll change his mind.
Maybe, but I doubt it. Anyway, I should run. I'm doing some sermon on some mountain or something. I don't know. LOL.
SimonSays: Okay man.
Okay. So you're cool with Peter?
SimonSays: yeah, it works. I kind of like it, to be honest.
Okay. I'll spread the word. Later.
SimonSays: Later.

Lucifer666: Yo. U there?
JcDaMessiah: Yeah. Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?
Lucifer666: I know, but I got a bet with my friends.
JcDaMessiah: Huh?
Lucifer666: U c, we’re crazy hungry, but all we got are these stones. Can you make some bread?
JcDaMessiah: >:o
Lucifer666: What?
JcDaMessiah: You don’t need the carbs. Besides, just listen to my pops and you’ll be cool.
Lucifer666: I tried IMing him, but hes always away. Bsides, if ur really, you know, your dads son, I dare you to lick the power outlet.
JcDaMessiah: Seriously, don’t test me.
Lucifer666:Come on! If you do it, I’ll let you copy my buddy list.
JcDaMessiah: I’m blocking you.
Lucifer666: Loser.

VirginMary7: Jeez?
Auto response from JcDaMessiah: Preachin'
VirginMary7: Okay honey, I guess you're out. I just wanted to make sure you were eating well. Remember, you can't live on bread alone! Have some fish or something with it. Be sure to share as well.
VirginMary7: Oh, and your father wants me to remind you that you promised to help him build a new bookshelf. Oh, sorry, "step-father."" Please be nice to Joseph, he was always there for you.
VirginMary7: I hope you're having fun with your new friends. I want to tell you though, I don't like that Judas. Something about him�Just make sure you're not getting in with the wrong crowd.

BackFromTheDead: Jesus!
JcDaMessiah: Who is this?
BackFromTheDead: It’s Lazarus!!! LOL! I just wanted 2 tell u I got a new sn.
JcDaMessiah:Oh, cool. How you feeling?
BackFromTheDead: Kinda hungover, but otherwise OK. Thanks again for, u know.
JcDaMessiah: No problem. G2g. Ttly.
BackFromTheDead: Cya!

Auto response from IAmWhoAm: I am away from my computer right now.
JcDaMessiah: Dammit. Oh, sorry.
JcDaMessiah: Oh, sorry. My bad.
JcDaMessiah: I really need to talk to you. I'm confused. I'm starting to doubt myself. The other day, these kids wanted me to bring their puppy back to life. I really wanted to do it, but I didn't want to abuse my powers, you know? Plus, I really screwed up this parable the other day. I meant to talk about a mustard seed, but suddenly it got into this whole discussion on the Holy Trinity, like if I share rent with you and the Holy Spirit if I'm living at a place. Then this guy started asking whether I go to the bathroom if, you know, I'm supposed to be perfect and everything. I could really use your help. Please get back to me when you can.

You have just entered room "chat16669971813739293635."

JCDaMessiah: Hey. I’m here. What’s up?
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: Jesus!
MelchiorWay: Jeez!
BalthasarGallatica: What up?!
JCDaMessiah: Um, hi?
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: You don’t remember us, do you?
BalthasarGallatica: We’re kinda like your uncles!
JCDaMessiah: No, I’m sorry. How’d you get my screenname?
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: We followed a star!
BalthasarGallatica: He’s kidding, we did a gizoogle search, my mizziah.
JCDaMessiah: I really don’t remember you guys. I’m sorry.
MelchiorWay: Oh come on, I bet you do.
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: I’d make that bet.
MelchiorWay: You wanna bet?
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: Yeah, name it.
MelchiorWay: Two tubs of myrrh vs. a gold nugget.
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: Get the hell outta here with that myrrh crap. You know it sucks.
BalthasarGallatica: Boys...
JCDaMessiah: Gold? Myrrh? Wait a minute...
BalthasarGallatica: Now he remembers.
JCDaMessiah: My dad told me about you guys.
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: You didn’t happen to save any of that gold, did you? We’re kinda strapped.
JCDaMessiah: No, I donated it to the poor
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: Figures...
JCDaMessiah: I think I might have some of the frankincense left...let me go check...
BalthasarGallatica: Don’t worry about it. We were really looking for some gold.
MelchiorWay: Our gambling debts are piling up.
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: Plus, Herod never really forgave us for not turning you in, so we’re kinda blacklisted.
JCDaMessiah: there anything I can do?
MelchiorWay: Could you, like, turn a rock into gold or something?
JCDaMessiah: Oh...I meant like pray for you or something.
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: I guess you could put in a good word with your Pops.
JCDaMessiah: I will, although he’s tough to get a hold of.
BalthasarGallatica: Do you think we could have His screenname?
JCDaMessiah: Look inside yourself and you’ll know how to contact him.
MelchiorWay: Gee, thanks.
JCDaMessiah: No problem. Listen, fellas, I gotta go.
BalthasarGallatica: Ok!
MelchiorWay: Take care!
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: Pray for us!
JCDaMessiah: Okay guys, l8r.

JCDaMessiah has just left the room.

BalthasarGallatica: I liked him better when he was wrapped in swaddling clothing.
MelchiorWay: You think that donkey is still around? Maybe we could sell him for some cash.
CasparTheFriendlyGhost: I wonder if his mom is still, you know, celibate.
MelchiorWay: Dude!
MelchiorWay: That’s sick.

TheRockSays: Jesus! It's Peter. I know you're out, but I just wanted to give you my new SN. What do you think? It's weird, but I think the chicks are digging the new name. So thanks!
Auto Response from JCDaMessiah: Exercisin'...demons!

MaryMags69: Jesus?
JCDaMessiah: Hey Mary, what's up?
MaryMags69: What u doin?
JCDaMessiah: I was praying, but I can talk.
MaryMags69: You wanna come over?
JCDaMessiah: something wrong? You see a demon?
MaryMags69: I just want 2 c u.
JCDaMessiah: I don't think that's a good idea.
MaryMags69: BRB. Have a customer. Should only take 1 min.
JCDaMessiah: Okay...
MaryMags69: Back! I told u Id be quick LOL.
Auto Response from JCDaMessiah: Praying really hard.
MaryMags69: Jesus? Where'd u go?
MaryMags69: Jeeeeeeeeeesus.
MaryMags69: Ok. I guess ur really gone. Well, if u wanna come over, the offer still stands. Maybe I could wash ur feet with my hair again? U liked that right? Well, send me a message. TTYL.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

The Day the Music Died

My car tells me when to shift.

It’s funny. Twenty years ago that statement may have elicited raised eyebrows, wet drawers, and provoked thoughts of futuristic flying cars. Now, with GPS systems and artificial intelligence all around us, orders from inanimate objects is par for the course.

So like I said, my car tells me when to shift. It uses a small, upwards-pointing orange arrow when it feels my car’s tires are spinning too many times per hour for the gear. I’ve been ignoring the arrow for so long that I forget it’s there most of the time, but when I do happen to see it, I usually tell it, out loud over the music or talk radio, to “shut the fuck up.” My car, a dented, off-gold Saturn, is nearing the 170,000 mile mark without any major work required. I think I’ve done a good of shifting at the right time.

Honestly, I don’t like being told what to do by technology. I don’t like when my iTunes tells me I should upgrade to the newest version. I don’t like when my virus software tells me it’s outdated. I prefer to live my life the way I want to without technology’s interference.

But I’ve realized lately that as much as I resist technologies gentle machinations, I’m enslaved to her whether I want to be or not. Take last Thursday for example. I pulled into work at 9:02 (two minutes late, of course), and attempted a mad dash. As I rushed out of my car my iPod slipped from the pocket of my hoodie and hit the pavement.

“Oops!” said a nearby co-worker who was also late, but by 32 minutes.

“You didn’t see that,” I told her.

An hour later, my iPod stopped working. It didn’t simply shut off or refuse to play a song; it showed an icon of an anthropomorphic iPod complete with a frown and X’s over its eyes.

“Shit,” I said, “My iPod’s not working.”

“What’s wrong with it?” my boss asked.

“He dropped it,” my co-worker said.

If you work for Apple and are reading this, me dropping it never happened.

After attempting several repair techniques (hitting it, shaking it, praying to St. Jude, patron saint of hopeless causes), I gave up and resolved to visit the Apple store, located 45 minutes away.

On the way there, I realized my cell phone wasn’t working either. No matter what I did, I couldn’t hear or speak to anyone. With the loss of my two prized pieces of technology, I was vaulted back to the middle ages. I was in a car without access to the 3,312 songs I’ve collected on my iPod or the *2,941 friends I’ve collected on my cell. People would call me and I couldn’t answer. My mother seriously thought I was dead.

Read that again. My phone wasn’t working for a total of 6 hours, and my mother thought I was dead. This is what America has come to. The world has shrunk so much that not being able to contact someone for a mere two hours implies tragedy. Maybe I forgot my phone? Maybe I was engaged in some tantric sex (although this is impossible since my iPod was busted and I can’t listen to Sting) and unable to pick up the phone?

I’d like to say that this epiphany regarding my reliance on technology set me from hardwiring and microchips, but that’s not the case. As soon as both started working, I fired up the Abba on my iPod and gabbed on the phone with my mom about my dad.

Maybe one day I’ll break from the shackles, but for now, I’m listening to some Frank Zappa.

*Slight hyperbole: the number is actually 592

Sunday, April 02, 2006

No Baby

This weekend I visited two college friends of mine who got married in 2004. They had a baby in October, but I hadn’t seen it until yesterday. In the included picture, you will see something revolutionary: the first time I’ve ever held a baby. How did I make it until 23 without ever holding a baby? I’m not sure, actually.

The closest I’ve ever come to having a kid was when an ex-girlfriend and I had the brilliant plan to take her little cousin Becky to the beach with us. This sounded good to me, as I imagined the three of us holding hands and running in a slow-motion circle as some upbeat song blared. We drove to Delaware to pick her up and then to Ocean City, which was about a two hour trip. Luckily Becky was an aspiring comedian in the back seat, although she didn't quite have the whole set-up/punchline concept down. Instead, her jokes followed a simple pattern. "When is a (Blank A) not a (Blank A)? When it's a (Blank B)!" For example, she would look around her, see a car and a Burger King, and come up with a joke. "When is a car not a car?!" she'd ask. "When it's a BURGER KING!" This was funny at first, but like all absurd things, by the fifth time I wanted a lobotomy.

When we actually reached the beach, I tried to get them to spin with me, but Becky couldn't quite do it in slow-motion. Five minutes into our time at the beach, after she had been lathered in sun lotion, baby powder and a lime marinade, she gave the first indication of impending doom, asking "Where's Mommy?" "You'll see her in a couple of hours," I responded. I had forgotten that to little kids, time is this kinda funny concept that only applies in terms of punishments or expectations.

Kids don't understand the whole concept of cause and effect very well. When a child wants ice cream, we are left with a sticky baby. When a child wants to ride the ferris wheel, we have a child covered in vomit. When a child wants a Faberge egg, we are left with a second mortgage. They don't understand that sometimes when adults say no, it's for the greater good, and not because we get off on some kid's tears. You have to be firm and put your foot down, no matter how much they wail. Don't give in.

Another thing I realized about children is that you have to watch them like all the time. If you turn your head for one second to try to read what that 14-year-old's shorts say on her ass, your kid will have found her way onto a jet ski and be half way to Aruba. I used to be totally against those kid leashes, but maybe they aren't such a bad idea.

When is a baby not a baby? When she's a dirty Red! Becky apparently was a Communist, which I didn't realize before this trip. Between ice cream cones and Faberge eggs, she wandered among some other kids who were building a sand castle. She wanted to help them, but the kids had a shitty diaper club going and wouldn't admit her. She got upset and decided to take one of their shovels and start her own castle. Why wouldn't she? To her, this was not any individual's shovel, but the shovel of the proletariat, meant to be shared among all of society in a Marxist bliss. She got pissed when we had to explain capitalism to her and return the soggy bottom kid's stupid shovel. We managed to cheer her up later though when we bought her a plastic hammer and sickle.

After we finally got her home, I swore off kids for at least five years. The moral of this story is, don't have unprotected sex until you're ready. And in payment for this advice, can anyone lend me a couple bucks towards that mortgage?