Monday, November 8, 2010

Whitney’s Interaction with Jehovah’s Witnesses **UPDATED**

I was trying to think of something interesting to post, when I realized that all I had done today was 20 minutes of homework before I got distracted and spent about an hour debating with myself whether or not  “cushions” was actually spelled “cutions,” and I then remembered that I own a dictionary. 

I actually managed to start my homework, but then I got sidetracked and wanted to know if my conducting baton could actually stab someone because musical murder is probably the artsy-est type of murder wrong.  So then I poked my dog with my baton to see if it would even hurt him tickle, but he didn’t mind and then he wanted an ice cube.  Then I never practiced conducting because I realized that I probably would never be a conductor, and instead I would use my baton for stabbing tickling or assisting in some sort of up-do hairstyle.

Oh my goodness you guys, I’m going to be famous.  May I introduce you to “The Baton.”  Hip enough for prom, conservative enough for Bible study!

I’m seriously going to email Claire’s.

Here is my email to Claire.  I let you know if she responds:

You have to click on it.

And this is why I most certainly will be failing my midterm tomorrow.

Now I’m wearing sweatpants which is my most favorite thing besides all food, and I am eating my “lean” chicken alfredo lunch that came in an unopenable (spellcheck says that’s not a real word) box, and it is tasting a lot like someone shredded cardboard and dunked it in non-fat mayonnaise.  I’m realizing now that no one is forcing me to eat this, so I think I’ll stop and tell you about when I had a friendly conversation with got attacked by Jehovah’s Witnesses.

This story may be slightly exaggerated, but it actually stays pretty close to what happened.  If you don’t believe me, then you can take the time to hunt down my sister and ask her about the time that she almost made me leave a football game early because I was making a scene since the lady in front of us had hair that was SO big that I couldn’t see any of the game.  Run-on sentence. Also I think she was hiding cocaine in there.


I was frantically playing piano the other morning because I am supposed to practice for 10 hours each week which I never, ever do always do because I want to manage a Wendy’s someday be a musicology professor.  I heard someone knock on the door, and I thought it was probably a polite serial killer, so I opened the door.  It was a couple of older-looking ladies.  I assumed that their car had broken down and that, despite knowing nothing about cars, I would be able to fix it, and these women would give me a lifetime supply of free cookies.  Because that’s what old people do.  They. Make. Cookies.

Old ladies: Hi.

Me: Hey.

Old ladies:  We’d like to discuss prayer with you.

My brain: No.
My mouth: Sure, but I pray like all the time, so I think I got it down.

They never actually talked to me about prayer.  Instead, they asked where I went to school and I was all like, “Calvin.”  I think that going to a Christian college to them is like being taught by Satan while being bottled up in hell.  I didn’t want them to think that I had learned anything from Satan so I tacked on an, “It’s cool there” which was totally also a pun about the temperature so that they knew it was cold at Calvin, and whether a Jehovah’s Witness or not, everyone knows that Satan doesn’t like the cold so obviously he isn’t at Calvin.

They asked me what I was studying.

Me: “Music theory.” 

Old Ladies: “Ohhhh! What instruments do you play?”

Me: “The alpenhorn and the oboe.”

Old Ladies: “Ohhh! Lovely!”

They must have no idea what an alpenhorn is because it is not lovely at all.  Here’s a picture of an alpenhorn just in case you haven’t been carefully cataloging your German instruments for the past 5,000 years:

They smiled, but I knew that they were probably judging me.  I automatically assume that all door-to-door religious types agree that all women should do nothing, but cook and stuff so I said, “...but I know I shouldn’t go to college because I’m a woman and I shouldn’t do anything I like, and I should probably go put a steak on my husband’s TV tray because he likes to eat while he watches anime.”

They were all like, *stare.*

So I kept talking which I probably should not have done. “...but I guess it’s okay because now I can serenade him on the alpenhorn while he sits on his fat, but well respected, butt and does his daily Biblical crossword puzzle.”

No, I didn’t say that last part.

Ryan is not fat at all, and I love him dearly.  In my Jehovah’s Witness fantasy, he is very fat.  And I’ve also never seen him to a crossword puzzle, but he should because it exercises the mind.

Eventually the ladies left, and I got back on twitter continued to practice the piano.

I left the pamphlets for my mother in case she felt like converting to crazy, but when I got home and inquired if she had read them, she was all like “I threw those straight in the garbage.  I’m not even recycling them.”  So you should all be thankful that my mother has kept you from, somewhere in the future, purchasing animal bedding made from our Jehovah’s Witness pamphlets.  Then I thought about how many people probably do recycle those pamphlets and that probably almost all animal bedding is made from Jehovah’s Witness material.


I just wanted to make mention of the new blogroll on the right side of the screen.  These are all people I find to be hilarious, or awesome, or inspiring, or hardworking, or absolutely insane.  This is my warning to you... The Bloggess, although she will make you cry and wet yourself because she is so funny, is also very vulgar.  Don't go there if you are easily offended, and there are definitely some posts that you should skip altogether.


If you would like to be added to our blogroll, shoot us an email or leave a comment with your URL, and we will check out your site!