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Hello all. I am Jazzus Christ-ine. I don't believe in blasphemy or Hell, a fact I find particularly lucky, especially considering.

I embrace the concepts of love, learning, and interconnectedness. Do not bow down to me, for I am but a humble mortal.

Instead, acknowledge that which has supreme reign over all, that which you can feel coursing through your veins.

Call it God.

Call it evolution.

Call it a flying spaghetti monster.

You know there's something there, no matter the name.

This came about through an . . . interesting conversation I had with my family tonight. You see, when I get through a long week of rigorous schoolwork and endless early mornings, I tend to be cranky the night before my weekend officially starts (meaning when I can go to be and get some sleep).

I, being cranky as I was, refused to get my shower before my brother. Stupid? Yes. Immature? Hell yes. In my defense, we always take turns going first, and it was not yet my turn. I was wholly justified. ninja Anyway, I won that argument.

About three hours later, after pulling every lame excuse in the book (no hot water, playing with the cat, wanna hear this, etc.) and proving myself to be a spoiled princess (I don't deny it), I made a quip about my missing tiara. Lanie noted that I should have been in my room making it, instead of sitting around, not getting my shower.

"But I don't know how," I whined. "What would I make it out of? Thistles? I could make myself a thorn crown. Like Jesus. Jazzus."

From here, things got really ridiculous. My mother's "Go get your shower" was soon countered with, "Hey, don't you know I'm dying for your sins?" My full name was eventually Jazzus Christ-ine (a name that makes more sense if one knowns my real name), and the threat of nail-gun attack was fresh on the lips of all parties present.

Overall, the arrival of the new messiah was a hoot.