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Jar of Dirt Dance
Sep. 26th, 2009 09:09 pmI have a Netflix account, I have a Netflix account! Yeah, sorry, I’ve been mainlining TV shows, contrary to every lecture my English teachers have ever dried to drum into my thick head as I pretended I wasn’t reading under my desk. My brain is turning to jelly, and my social, (and, er and blogging) judgement has poured out of my ears, so I have a Netflix account, I have a Netflix account!
Anyway, because all the television I’m watching is obviously rotting my brain, my dear sweet (terrifying) grammy dragged me to the local museum to... watch... A movie... There’s something wrong with this.
GRAMMY: Let's go see this IMAX movie tomorrow about Egyptian mummification! You'll learn something. It's not like you've ever embalmed anything.
FISH: Er... yes I have.
GRAMMY: Not on purpose, right?
FISH: Er....
GRAMMY: Oh my God!
In 6th grade we mummified cornish game hens and put their embalmed organs in canopic jars, and built them clay sarcophagi, (I built the canopic jars too) and anointed them with all the symbolic spices and oil, and wrapped them, and buried them. So in a few thousand years, when they dig up my schools, the archaeologists are going to think we worshiped demented shrunken chickens.
The best part was, one of our group wore a swim cap (instead of shaving her head) and a fake leopard skin toga and I wore a plastic Anubis mask.
So after I shocked and appalled my grandmother with the depths of my historical weirdness, I got into a religious debate with her. Bad idea. She’s an Atheist, and she’s smarter than I am. She likes to harp on the fact that religions are patriarchal, and I’m a feminist, and I know better. Telling her I’m not a biblical literalist doesn’t seem to work, nor does saying religions sprang from patriarchal societies, and so did museums, so instead I managed to accidentally convince her that I have beliefs stranger than she ever imagined. Oops. Or cool... Still trying to decide.
FISH: I'm a pantheist, and so since the universe has all kinds, my God is pan-gender.
GRAMMY: Iron and teflon can't perform gender, dear, and don’t even get me started on aluminum. Is God pot-gender too?
Fish: Now you're just having me on!
GRAMMY: A bunch of your mom's friends were pot-sexual. Is that the same?
FISH: Grammy!
GRAMMY: I need to have some fun in the twilight of my life! You would deprive me even of that?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Anyway, because all the television I’m watching is obviously rotting my brain, my dear sweet (terrifying) grammy dragged me to the local museum to... watch... A movie... There’s something wrong with this.
GRAMMY: Let's go see this IMAX movie tomorrow about Egyptian mummification! You'll learn something. It's not like you've ever embalmed anything.
FISH: Er... yes I have.
GRAMMY: Not on purpose, right?
FISH: Er....
GRAMMY: Oh my God!
In 6th grade we mummified cornish game hens and put their embalmed organs in canopic jars, and built them clay sarcophagi, (I built the canopic jars too) and anointed them with all the symbolic spices and oil, and wrapped them, and buried them. So in a few thousand years, when they dig up my schools, the archaeologists are going to think we worshiped demented shrunken chickens.
The best part was, one of our group wore a swim cap (instead of shaving her head) and a fake leopard skin toga and I wore a plastic Anubis mask.
So after I shocked and appalled my grandmother with the depths of my historical weirdness, I got into a religious debate with her. Bad idea. She’s an Atheist, and she’s smarter than I am. She likes to harp on the fact that religions are patriarchal, and I’m a feminist, and I know better. Telling her I’m not a biblical literalist doesn’t seem to work, nor does saying religions sprang from patriarchal societies, and so did museums, so instead I managed to accidentally convince her that I have beliefs stranger than she ever imagined. Oops. Or cool... Still trying to decide.
FISH: I'm a pantheist, and so since the universe has all kinds, my God is pan-gender.
GRAMMY: Iron and teflon can't perform gender, dear, and don’t even get me started on aluminum. Is God pot-gender too?
Fish: Now you're just having me on!
GRAMMY: A bunch of your mom's friends were pot-sexual. Is that the same?
FISH: Grammy!
GRAMMY: I need to have some fun in the twilight of my life! You would deprive me even of that?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
