Monday, June 25, 2007

You want some crazy with those eggs?


I'm rather neutral on the apr├Ęs Church brunch experience.

It's one of those things like working out or cleaning the kitchen: it's not so bad once you actually do it, but you still not-so-secretly wish you were in bed, covered up to the chin with fluffy comforters and watching Tennessee Williams movies and rewinding the parts where Marlon Brando or Paul Newman take off their shirts (um, so I've heard.)

However, in the spirit of good fellowship I've been brunching with handful of folks from our 20's/30's group and friends, it's driving me crazy.

To be fair, I like most of the people, there's Lee, the old-fashioned southern boy and Torvald the only Dutch boy I've never --not even once-- been tempted to kill in his sleep. In fact, I like the majority of the folks with whom I've brunched. Plus a passel of peeps who are otherwise very nice.

But then there are the Others.

The Others range from the mildly maladjusted to the full-on wackaloons, and frankly, I just do not want to put up with that sort of nutjobbery on the one day I have specially reserved for rest and re-creation.

I will gladly spend time with the Others any other day of the week, at any time. I mean, that's the Christian thing, right? Love the unloveable.

Want to talk my ear off on Saturday night about how depressed you are and how your therapist Just Doesn't Understand? Fine. Need someone to morally support you in uncomfortable conversations with your parents who are just as horrible as you? I'm your gal. Want to insult me to your passive/aggressive heart's content because (not so) deep down you resent the hell out of me for living "your" dream even though I've worked my tail off to get here and you've done nothing but mope? Bring it on.

Just don't sit there and insult me, or even worse, patronize me, during the few hours I have designated for plain old uncomplicated relaxation. I won't snap (usually) but it's hard to observe my own personal Sabbath when my one overriding desire is to slap you with a fish.

Whew, that was deep. I guess it's time for a little palate cleanser. I give you a vintage Paul Newman from his underrated turn in Tennessee William's Sweet Bird of Youth

6 Comments:

Anonymous muthah+ said...

Sistah+,
I am with YOU! Don't go to brunch. After 24 years of this ministry, I have found that I cannot really Sabbath on the Sabbath. I take another day. Sunday is a work day.

Hang in there.

4:55 PM  
Blogger Diane said...

What was it about Newman and Tennessee Williams? Wasn't Cat on a Hot Tin Roof Newman/Williams too?

6:58 PM  
Blogger Min O'Pause said...

Love your blog! To parody Renee Z, in "Jerry McGuire,"

"You had me at Wackaloons..."

Min

9:04 PM  
Blogger Min O'Pause said...

P.S:

Sweet pic of Newman. He was really sexy in Hud, also.

Min

9:05 PM  
Blogger Diane said...

glad to meet you... and I like your blog too

9:35 PM  
Blogger top2 said...

If you lovely ladies don't mind a comment from the peanut gallery, the old man here would just like to say that hetero though he is, there is no law that says he can't appreciate the perfect human form, whatever gender it manifests itself in. Par exemple, as personified by the likes of Newman, Sean Connery, Gene Kelly, et al.

Some humans are simply works of art, & that's all there is to it.

Bill

10:02 PM  

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