August 2010 archive


I said crap in church today.

And not just one of those under my breath “Crap, where’s my nametag?” craps. Or like a “Crap. What IS that woman’s name?” crap.


I said it into the microphone, because that’s how I roll.

I do the prayer in front of the whole church all youth-director style these days during first service, and before the prayer, sometimes I like to talk about God and whatnot.

And recently a friend of mine told me that the root of the word worship is dig, and that when we sing the opening songs (aka, WORSHIP) it’s a time to dig up all the crap in our lives and let it go so we can focus on God.

It’s something that stuck with me, so I decided to share.

All, “So, ya, it’s a time to dig up all the crap up our lives and let it go…”

I didn’t even think twice about it.

Or even one and a half about it.

But then, after service, I guess it got around that CRYSTAL SAID CRAP IN CHRUCH.

For shame.

I’m told “baggage” might have been a better choice or words.

I don’t know about you, but the crap in my life doesn’t look anything like luggage though. So ya.

It’s probably youth leader 101 or something though. “Find a way to say crap in chruch while talking about how awesome God is.”

A+ for me if it is.

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A nerd with a worn-off spray tan.

I’ve starting wearing my hair in double french braids every day because blowing dry your hair sucks and I have no time for such things.

I also finally threw away those two-week contacts that I’ve been wearing since, umm, Lent (ish), but that means I’m sporting my glasses on a daily basis.

I’m officially a nerd with a worn-off spray tan.

I blame my new commute. Spending almost three hours in a car everyday to go from Naperville to Crystal Lake via a detour and back is about as much fun as a migraine mixed with a sprained ankle mixed with sunburn.

I’m never going to find a boyfriend this way.


The way I figure it, the only chance I have of meeting a nice, respectable boy/man/guy is if I crash into someone somewhere along Route 59, but I kind of think that would kind of suck, seeing as how I need my car so much these days and the potential for injuries or whatever.

But these are the things I think about when I’m driving. That, and I try to figure out whether Brett Favre will actually, really, finally retire this year so the Bears can make the play-offs.

Anyway, ya, do you know anyone?

Perhaps a nice, young man who doesn’t mind french braids, glasses and a worn off spray tan?

Also, who lives close by?

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

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under there. under where? ha.

I just realized that I’ve been wearing my underwear inside out all day. So, ya, umm, yay I guess.

That’s how freaking busy I am. I can’t event take the time to check the tag on my underwear.

Or to blog.


I’m so sorry I’ve been away. I miss you like crazy.

*tap. tap tap tap. Is this thing still on?*

You haven’t left me yet, have you? I’m still here. I’m just spending all my free time these days driving to places, from places and sitting in dead stop traffic on Route 59.

(Thank you God for NPR).

It’s stressing me out man. Seriously. I have horrid fears that I will ram into a semi and die at any given moment and in the process get a ticket and then arrested.

Or that I will fall asleep mid-trip.

Actually, that already happens. Ish.

Just kidding.

(Or am I?)

Basically I get by with a little help from Starbucks. That company puts crack and meth in their coffee though I think because it’s more addicting that sleep.

And more expensive than crack and/or meth.

I love it.

Of course, it only give me fake awake. It’s like the generic brand of not being alseep. You’re awake and all, but not really. In your head you’re dreaming about sleeping.

And you do stupid things. Say stupid sentences. And,  make stupid mistakes. 

Like put your underwear on inside out.

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