(no subject)
Tonight is the beginning of Yom Kippur: A Jewish holiday. I only know this because my Mother called me earlier in the week to make sure I would make it to Shul this time. Church is a Christian Shul - pronounced "sh-ool". I only go during the high holidays and even then sometimes I don't. There aren't a whole lot of jewish hotties, and even less that practice, and I'm not religious so I see no point in going. After all, why do anything if hotties aren't involved?
Mother told me to be at Shul at 7:30, because the services start then. I roll up at 7:35 and call my folks. They're not there either, they're about 20 minutes behind me. Of course, services don't actually start until 8:00, Mother was just being tricky. Around 7:55 we all pile in to Shul and my Physics TA is there. He's cool. But Mom asking him how I'm doing in the class and then bragging about how smart I am and how wonderful I am doesn't help any situation.
Services start and just like any religious service anywhere people will stand up and sit down on cue. Josh, who had his Barmitzvah the year after mine, was sitting/standing behind me and when I went to sit down he must have been leaning forward because I bashed my head into his. The isles are roomy...he's not that tall...maybe he was sniffing my ass. Sorry Josh.
Services progress, the flutist plays for what seems like forever, the "choir" performs on and off for painful seconds and minutes. Then the solo male vocalist does his thing...also painful. But what can't be described in nearly enough horrifying detail is my mother singing along to everything. People sing. My mom harmonizes. If you don't know what that means, she sings an octave above or below just to make it sound prettier to her. And then she'll sing in harmonies, in chords, with the performers. IT'S WRETCHED. Even that isn't so bad, though, because what comes next is worse. My step dad starts to sing. If you watched Hoobastank on MTV the other day, even less in tune. Stan doesn't even have a tune. He sings in monotone. And he has a bostonbama accent. And his voice is deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. I have a HUGE grin on my face because I'm trying to short myself from laughing. He looks over and I crack up. It's just too much. Mom on my right, harmonizing, and Stan on my left, monotone. And people notice. They really notice. Thank god no hotties. Baruch hashem.
Mother told me to be at Shul at 7:30, because the services start then. I roll up at 7:35 and call my folks. They're not there either, they're about 20 minutes behind me. Of course, services don't actually start until 8:00, Mother was just being tricky. Around 7:55 we all pile in to Shul and my Physics TA is there. He's cool. But Mom asking him how I'm doing in the class and then bragging about how smart I am and how wonderful I am doesn't help any situation.
Services start and just like any religious service anywhere people will stand up and sit down on cue. Josh, who had his Barmitzvah the year after mine, was sitting/standing behind me and when I went to sit down he must have been leaning forward because I bashed my head into his. The isles are roomy...he's not that tall...maybe he was sniffing my ass. Sorry Josh.
Services progress, the flutist plays for what seems like forever, the "choir" performs on and off for painful seconds and minutes. Then the solo male vocalist does his thing...also painful. But what can't be described in nearly enough horrifying detail is my mother singing along to everything. People sing. My mom harmonizes. If you don't know what that means, she sings an octave above or below just to make it sound prettier to her. And then she'll sing in harmonies, in chords, with the performers. IT'S WRETCHED. Even that isn't so bad, though, because what comes next is worse. My step dad starts to sing. If you watched Hoobastank on MTV the other day, even less in tune. Stan doesn't even have a tune. He sings in monotone. And he has a bostonbama accent. And his voice is deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. I have a HUGE grin on my face because I'm trying to short myself from laughing. He looks over and I crack up. It's just too much. Mom on my right, harmonizing, and Stan on my left, monotone. And people notice. They really notice. Thank god no hotties. Baruch hashem.