The internet tells me that today is no ordinary Thursday.
Apparently it is one of the following: Maundy Thursday, Holy Thursday, Covenant Thursday, Great and Holy Thursday, Sheer Thursday and/or Thursday of Mysteries.
I guess today is special to people who are Christian because it’s a Christian Holy Day Commemorating the Last Supper of Jesus Christ with the Apostles.
I just like the name.
THURSDAY OF MYSTERIES!
THURSDAY. OF. MYSTERIES.
THURSDAY OF MYSTERIES….
Just knowing that it’s the Thursday of Mysteries makes me feel like I need to write something, even if it’s just another bullshit list:
The First Annual THURSDAY OF MYSTERIES list of things I find mysterious and/or other stuff:
1. Why do boys love their equipment so much? I mean, seriously. I’ve never met a man who didn’t exude some sense of pride when talking about/using/showing/touching/scratching his equipment. I like my vagina. I do. But I don’t feel the need to talk about it (very much) to anyone and especially not to someone who doesn’t have one. Like, it’s not something I want to lead with, if you know what I mean. I raised a son and I don’t remember ever emphasizing to him how great his penis is and how he should try to work it into casual conversation. That would be weird.
2. This is on my mind for a couple of reasons – (a) the Moratorium is over and I am once again reminded that men like for me to act like I think their penis, in particular, stuns me with it’s unique beauty and that no matter what else I’m doing at the time, if I would only just look at their penis, my life would be better and I would want to have sex and (b) my morning beach walk now involves walking past the newly-opened clothing optional swingers resort (NOT KIDDING, YO) in town and just the other day I was lucky enough to catch a beach volleyball game in progress. A mostly nekkid beach volleyball game. Oh, the pride and joy those boys had just knowing that their penies were on display in front of God and everyone else. I’m sorry dudes, even if I think you’re hot and even if, somehow, your penis in particular is so gorgeous that I can’t drag my eyes away even for one minute, the instant that thing starts flopping around wildly while you attempt to spike the volleyball it’s all I can do to stop myself from laughing out loud. Not “LOL”. Real laughing. Out loud. They are silly.
3. Don’t get me wrong. I love men. And that is another mystery. Why do I love men? What is not a mystery is that the first thing I love about a man is generally not looking at/talking about his penis. I want him to have one, of course. And I would like it if the one he has is, ummm, not itsy-bitsy (there, I said it, size matters.) but I don’t even want to know about that if his mind doesn’t turn me on.
4. Back to the nekkid beach volleyball game. Ummmm, here’s another mystery: why do some women enjoy getting sand in their cookies? I mean, they must enjoy it because there’s really no other reason to play beach volleyball with a naked cookie. It’s basically like putting a sponge into the very fine beach sand. Ouch. It’s not like a guy who wasn’t interested in you after seeing the whole rest of your body naked is suddenly going to go “Jesus, look at that cookie…” Amiright? Yikes! Hopefully the resort offers a power washer for post-game use. (I really hope my son is continuing to ignore my blog, if not, sorry honey!)
6. “It must be your skin, I’m sinking in.” Why am I in love with the song “Glycerine”? I don’t even know who sings it. Wait, it’s Bush. (So apparently I have a theme going here today — just kidding, no one has a bush anymore.) I don’t know when the song came out, but I’ve been playing it obsessively for at least 10 years. I’m in love with the lyrics. “I’m never alone, I’m alone all the time.” Oh MAN, I just googled it and (a) I had some of the lyrics wrong, but I like my version better and (b) OMG, I didn’t even know that this beautiful man sang this song, I don’t know how I feel about that. (Oh holy fuck, he’s singing it in the rain…. you know how I feel about precipitation….!!)
7. “When kindness falls like rain, it washes her away.” Speaking of lyrics and precipitation and mysteries, how is it that Adam Duritz (don’t tell me you don’t know who Adam Duritz is… just don’t) hasn’t realized that he’s my soul mate yet? I’ve known it for years. I want to kiss his eyes and take his whole fucked-up brain and put it inside me. Not down there, just inside. And then I would have two fucked up brains, but one of them would write the most exquisitely painful lyrics:
Surprise surprise I miss your hair, you miss my eyes
And all this solitude is my confidence eroding
So we slide inside of someone’s mouth and someone’s eyes
Until there’s a sound of something intimate exploding…
(Counting Crows “Carriage” – Hard Candy)
8. Am I the only person who goes to concerts and is pretty sure that the singer is singing directly to her? July 2009, Counting Crows, Red Rocks Amphitheater, Adam Duritz and Me.
(But the first time this happened was when I masqueraded as a security person during Prince’s sound check at the old McNichol’s Arena in Denver [November 3, 1988, if you must know…] and we [Prince and I, of course] totally had a moment before I was escorted out of the arena by the actual security people.)(This makes more sense when you know that I worked for the Denver Nuggets at the time and our offices were actually in the arena, hence my ability to “borrow” a red security jacket + walkie-talkie.)
9. Why am I writing about music today? I had no idea that was where this list was going, but as long as we are going there. PRINCE!!!!
10. How has it taken me 4+ hours to write this “post”? (Answer: youtube + google + rabbit holes)
Happy Thursday of Mysteries, y’all!
p.s. I don’t really know if I’m Christian. Which probably doesn’t shock anyone, especially God. But, for various reasons including the fact that I’m a cultural lemming, I tend to celebrate Christian holidays. But I really don’t think anyone ever mentioned this whole “Thursday of Mysteries” holiday to me. Which sucks, because hello, anyone who knows me knows that I just love mysteries.
p.p.s. The real mystery is why the fuck I’m publishing this “post”…
p.p.p.s. Which isn’t all that mysterious – I’ve been SO STUCK and had to write something, even if it’s all crap just to know that my brain can still spell words and put them into things like “sentences” and “paragraphs”.
p.p.p.p.s. Plus I really wanted to get to Post Number 90. And I did. Woo-hoo.