One Awkward Rapture

Oh hello! I didn’t see you there. I’m afraid I’m a little preoccupied. As I’m sure you’re all aware, The Rapture is but 48 hours away and I’ve not even begun to prepare! For those of you who are not Enlightened and think Rapture is a kind of dinosaur (not a joke, real question my college-educated adult roommate just asked me), on May 21, 2011, so, this coming Saturday, Jesus Christ is returning to earth! And this time, he’s not just doing woodwork or turning water into wine (wine!), he’s got a score to settle. It’s judgment day, bitches! All of the believers will be beamed up to Heaven, like the guy from Star Trek (Wars? Whatever, nerds) and the rest of us sinners will be left to rot in a post-apocalyptic wasteland until October 21 when God the Father comes down and blows this mother (Earth) up! How he’ll be doing all this judging isn’t entirely clear – I know JC’s a pretty powerful dude, but there are like 80 billion people on the planet. I mean, I love judging and consider it both my top hobby and finest skill, but even I couldn’t judge that many people all in one day, unless all of them happened to be simultaneously wearing one of those bras with the clear plastic straps under a tube dress while listening to a Ke$ha album. Clear does not equal invisible and, for fuck’s sake, you guys, she spells her name with a dollar sign. I mean, $ign. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is: Christ is going to need some help!

Here’s what I think happens. I think, and I’m almost always right about everything biblical, that Jesus & Co have recruited all of the judges of the world’s top reality TV programs to take care of the judging for him. I mean, Dancing with the Stars certainly seems like the work of the devil but what if, actually, those dudes have all been in training for May 21, 2011, the ultimate judgment? Think about it! After years of practice administering verdicts and pithy remarks to dancers, singers, chefs, fat people trying to become skinny people, etc, this Saturday they will all be compelled by the power of the Spirit to use their skills to help decide who gets Raptured and who goes the way of the raptors.

Personally, I hope to be judged by Michael Kors, but would also settle for Paula or Lil’ Mama of America’s Best Dance Crew fame.

But that’s not all we have to worry about. As noted above, May 21st is not the end for all of us! All Dogs go to Heaven, but the rest of us fools will be left to roam the earth for 5 months and, according to the website, which proves that God hates sinners but isn’t big on spelling, it’s not going to be a good scene. Think the 2nd half of Independence Day. Or I Am Legend. Or pretty much any Will Smith movie except that one where he was the homeless dad who became like a famous accountant or whatever. Burning buildings, nuclear wastelands, floods, the works.

It’s not that I’m worried, per se. I’m just not sure what to wear!

I mean, what does one pack for a 5 month staycation on a barren planet? I can’t even handle packing for a 2 day trip to my mom’s house without inducing a raging panic attack and always, inevitably, end up over packing…all the wrong things. 2 parkas in Hawaii? A ball gown for a camping trip? No underwear, ever? Sure, sure, sure. To make sure I don’t end up stranded sans culottes come May 22nd, (in the event Michael K. doesn’t send me straight up to heaven with nothing more than a witty pun and a whiff of his spray tan) I’ve started working on a list of things to pack:

• Reusable metal water bottle. Filled with wine.

• A swiss army knife, with a corkscrew.

• Additional bottles of wine.

• 15 pairs of underwear, including one pair of edible underwear. These will come in handy in case we run out of food or have to attend any bachelorette parties.

• Tina Fey’s BossyPants.

• A life-sized cutout of Michelle Obama. In the event I end up completely stranded, I’ll need my imaginary best friend.

• Nail polish.

• Nail polish remover.

• Bag full of multi-colored sharpie markers, for writing ransom notes (I’m assuming I’ll turn to crime) or arts & craft time.

• A few more bottles of wine.

• Condoms. Let’s be real here, folks. We’ve got the drama of an impending apocalypse plus all the goody-goods have been sucked up to heaven, leaving earth filled with hot, dirty, bad boys. Errrrybody’s gonna be D.T.F. I'm thinking this Post-Rapture/Pre World's End might be the perfect time for me to really slut it up after years of being a socially awkward prude. Conversely, I’m not looking to spend my last 5 months on earth battling herpes or morning sickness. Safety first!

• A French Press and real coffee mug. I’m not a heathen.

• Shorty shorts, tall boots, and a heavily padded bra. If we’re going down, I want to look like Lara Croft.

• Cheese.

• A mini fridge. For all the cheese.

• And then, whatever room is left over in my magical Mary Poppins style sack, I’ll just fill up with more wine.

And that’s where I am so far. It seems pretty thorough to me. I don’t want to get ahead of myself but I’m feeling like I’ll be doing pretttty well for myself this Rapture season. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll let you roll with me. Just no drinking my wine.

One Awkward Lenten Sacrifice

Hi! Remember me? Nope? Didn’t think so. So my new year’s resolution for 2011 was to write more. To start submitting to websites, magazines, and then by the end of 2011 I’d have a book deal, to published the following year and Oprah would pick it as her Book Club Pick for December 2012, her final selection before The Mayan Apocalypse End Of The World (12/21/12 - are you prepared?!) and I’d go out with a bang. (I mean, we’ll all go out with a bang, but mine will be loudest.)

It’s not going so well.

I shouldn’t find this surprising. My resos in 2010 were to stop biting my nails and go to the dentist and I did neither of those things. (God, I’m sexy.) Admittedly my now rotten teeth have helped curb the nail chomping sitch but I think it’s fair to say I’m not the best at keeping resolutions. Luckily New Years is always quickly followed Lent, which is a time when you can revamp your failed new years resolutions into something slightly different, with a holy twist. So for the next 40 days, or I guess like 32 days, whoops late to the party, I’m going to tryyyy to blog again. So exciting, right?! Thanks for being crucified, Jesus!

Lent was pretty much my favorite holiday in high school, after Halloween, when I annually dominated the costume contest, and Christmas, when I would wear battery operated Christmas lights and tinsel around my neck, because it allowed me a ton of opportunities to pander for attention. I went to a public high school and, like many good girls in small towns, I dabbled in religion in my youth.  I attended meetings of the Cool Campus Crusaders or whatever, learned the hand motions to Christian rock songs (ooooof), bought cute crucifixes at Claire’s. Nun in training for suuuure. I even assistant taught a Sunday school class, but that, no duh, was only enjoyable because sometimes one of the cute lil 6th graders would tell me I had pretty hair or cool shoes or ask me for advice on whether or not they should give their boyfriend a hand job at the movie theater and I’d be all “haha what?! No really, what’s a hand job?” and then they’d go off to the movies and touch their little boyfriends little dingdongs and I’d go home and watch “Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman” with my mom and think proudly about what a role model I was to those children.

So obviously religion is HUGE for me and I especially used to get into it during the holy Lenten season. I’d start off on Ash Wednesday by going to mass before school, so I could walk around all day with the ashes on my forehead and everyone would be all “Omg! Liz! You beacon of Christ’s light!” and they would think I was SO cool and deep and holy and then on Fridays I’d storm around the cafeteria, loudly bemoaning the lack of meatless options, “fine I guess I’ll just settle on this tuna salad, not like this ass-backwards school has any respect for the catholic kids around here it is just SO HARD being a minority!” and the one black kid in the school (literally!) would be like “Preach!” and my friends would, with genuine curiosity, ask me why Catholics give up meat and I’d smugly reply, “Jesus was a fisherman, duh.”

Still the best/only answer I can come up with. I'm so excited to spend this most special of holy times with you! Tuna salad for everyone.