La Tortura

I have found a new favorite church time! 6 AM!
Ok... maybe not "favorite," because I don't plan on waking up that early for... a long-ass time, but it was pretty funny.
Waking up at 5:15 in the morning wasn't so funny... it was pretty damn torturous, but the moment I stepped in church, I knew I was going to have a good time.
Why?
Because of everyone in there. A bunch of grouchy, exhausted Hispanic young adults... sitting next to their beaming parents.
The Mom or Dad looking fresh and ready to roll, totally loving life. "What a glorious day!" radiating from their face.
Young adult female with last night's make-up still on her face... her barrel curls smashed on one side of her head-- whichever she slept on. "What the fuck you staring at?" clearly written across her face.
Young adult male with his blow out (WTF is this? Why are guys doing this to their fucking hair now? Pauly D, you're oddly attractive, but CURSE YOU for making that shit popular!) frizzy as fuck, plain white shirt, eyes half closed. "What the fuck am I doing here?" oozing from his... bobbing head.

I was having a blast looking at all the young people; tired, cranky, confused, pissed... it was awesome... not that I was any better off myself. I looked equally, if not more, disheveled than most of the chicks there. I had on zero make-up, an oversized sweater, and my hair... I only brushed it... so it still had its nappy wave thing going on... it looked like I had taken a break from my dumpster-diving.
I was of the "What the fuck am I doing here?" kids.
My sister... that girl... she spent all day yesterday partying. First tailgating at the UNLV/UNR game, then moving on to a birthday celebration. A day where she declared herself the beerpong champ... yet Mom dragged her ass to church with us at 5:30 in the morning.
She was one of the "What you starin' at, bitch?!" girls who reeked of liquor... I wouldn't be surprised if she had a little bit of vomit in her still-curled hair.

To top it all off! The normally-Spanish mass was being officiated by the pseudo-Mexican priest (Mexican-American who grew up in the states back when Spanish wasn't allowed to be taught in schools... so he grew up understanding Spanish perfectly, but not being able to express himself in his mother-tongue, like many Mexican-Americans I know). He goes through the motions in English, while his translator speaks into the mic for all of us to hear mass in Spanish.
While I'm fine with the translator doing the prayers in Spanish, since I can't even recite the "Lord's Prayer" in English beyond "Our Father, who art in Heaven..." "...Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil" (you know, the parts that are movie/book titles), I ABHOR this man's translation of the priest's sermon... you know, the part which isn't written down for him verbatim... he has to wing shit.
This is bad news, since this man translates English into Spanish like I translate German into Spanish.
Du hasst mich gefragt, gefragt und ich hab nichts gesagt. Willst du bis der Tod euch scheidet treu ihr sein fr alle Tage... nein. Me odias... seras... tu... NO. Yey, I'm awesome!
The priest is a very, very intelligent man. I love how he draws everything together in his sermons... it's obvious he aced his essays back in college. Plus, he used to be a chaplain in Chicago, so he has some badass stories. But all merit is lost due to his incompetent, Puerto Rican translator.

First off, the translator does the whole Spanglish bullshit, clearly not having a firm grasp on EITHER language... so he confuses everyone in the building.
He goes off on tangents and doesn't even bother to say what the priest is saying... often changing the subject entirely and saying his own shit.
Priest: He had killed many people... tortured many people... so many, he could no longer remember. He wanted to make amends with the family members of all those he had murdered, and he thought the best way was to accept the death sentence given to him... so he stopped all appeals.
Translator: Y la unica manera de estar bien con dios es rezando. (The only way to be good with God is by praying)
Even the priest looks back at him like "What the fuck is wrong with you, retard? That's NOT what I said."

Anyway, this just adds insult to injury for us angry young adults, dragged to 6AM mass by our parents. We all know this imbecile man is doing a shit job translating... and we have to sit there and listen, unable to tackle his ass off stage.
It's like the Chinese water torture... each incorrect translation being a drop of water on the forehead of our immobilized body.
Someone please slap this idiot!

But, hey, at least I did laugh... a lot.