I've been waiting 20 years for this post. You grow up down the street from Blessed Sacrament, go to grade school there, go to church there, and you're eventually gonna hear about the other Blessed Sacrament.

At a young age, you know such a place exists in Virginia, the land on the other side of the river where people get lost. You don't know this directly, but the confusion of all the people who hear where you go to school and think you live in Virginia has told you it exists. Somewhere in Virginia, there is a school with the same name as yours. Somewhere out in Virginia, there is a bizarro school with a bizarro Patrick Cooper.

ELAINE: Bizarro Jerry?

JERRY: Yeah. Like Bizarro Superman. Superman's exact opposite, who lives in the backwards bizarro world. Up is Down. Down is Up. He says "Hello" when he leaves, "Good bye" when he arrives.

ELAINE: Shouldn't he say "Bad bye"? Isn't that the, opposite of "Good bye"?

Tonight, I went there. I finally went to the other Blessed Sacrament. In Virginia! Blew my freakin' 10-year-old mind. Great friend Jen (ever the reporter, in the parking lot afterward, "Damn, I just said 'fucked up' in the church parking lot") goes to church there sometimes, so we went for Ash Wednesday. The church in my neighborhood has led to parking disasters and thus not-going disasters the last two Ash Wednesdays, and the promise of seeing bizarro Blessed Sacrament sealed the deal.

The report: Bizzaro Blessed Sacrament is bizzaro Blessed Sacrament.

The District version, mine, is all about themes. The Virginia version is straight plot. (The homily featured promos for confession and Mass times.) The District version keeps the lights low. Virginia keeps all the lights on. District nave is smaller than it looks. Virginia nave is bigger than it looks. District has obstructed views. Virginia, everyone in the whole church turns around to look at you when you walk in. District, minimal tasty heritage Latin everyone knows. Virginia, deep-cut Latin. (If four years of high school Latin didn't learn me on the Sanctus, the Archdiocese of Arlington sure isn't going to. The Our Father, Holy Mary, Aeneid, Roman Robert Frost and horny Catullus were good, thanks.) District, music whenever possible. Virginia, whenever was necessary.

So glad I went. Good to be back for the ashes, good to know Blessed Sacrament D.C. still rocks and Virginia is still the land on the other side of the river where people get lost, good to have a friend and bizarro.

Three people in particular.

–The person on the fourth floor who was baking cookies as I went from that elevator to the garage last week. Even if they were trying to use the smell to sell their apartment despite the fact this building is rental apartments and not condo apartments, I wish them luck in their deliciously illegal sale.

–The Irish priest at Ash Wednesday Mass, for suggesting in his homily spoken to the parish schoolchildren and gathered Arlington residents — but mostly aimed toward the schoolchildren — that they skip an expensive meal and donate the money saved by having a cheaper meal instead up the street at the Silver Diner or O'Sullivan's, "used to be called Molly Malone's," both of them Irish pubs. This very much amused me at the time, but it turns out they have food in addition to beer.

–The check-out kid at Giant last night. Swiping my three half-gallons of milk, he says, "That's the best milk." This comment led into a whole conversation about milk, which was impressive. Not old enough yet to sell alcohol without a manager coming over to approve it, not experience enough to have developed a style for saying hello, swiping items or sliding the grocery dividers back along the rail, he took the opportunity to work from what he knew. Milk.

It's been a long week, and I'm all off-kilter. Sleep and stress are in weird places, and I've been tumbling all over today, but at least it's the weekend. A bonus would be if the Washington area discovered the joys of Pulaski Day. I want to apologize to Cleo. If I were feeling better or if they'd built that Maglev train to knock out the hour-plus drive to Baltimore, I'd be introducing you to Cal Ripken Jr. right now. And then there'd be cake incidents. ("How many consecutive slices of cake can you eat, Mr. Ripken?")

But with the little energy I've got, I'd like to give the musical highlights of my week.

1. Toni Braxton You're Makin Me High back to back on the radio with … I don't remember. But it was awesome, whatever it was.

2. Mix 107.3 following my Ash Wednesday church-attending by playing Kirk Franklin and God's Property — you know what song I'm talking about, there can only be one — the 1997 Gospel-goes-mainstream Stomp.

3. Majic 102.3 introducing me to 1975's I Destroyed Your Love (Parts I and II) by Special Delivery feat. Terry Huff while I was stuck in traffic Friday night. It's a wreckage-turned-forgiveness song, but the harmonies kept me on the station. The monologue at the end … I got issues with song monologues, whether they're performed by Elvis or Alicia Keys or anybody else. But that's a different post. Thankfully this song saved the monologue until the end.

4. Why do I only own one Whiskeytown album? For as much as I listen to Pneumonia, the rest need to join it on the shelf and in the changer.

5. The Simpsons theme, heard in the real-life Simpsons intro video. The effort is amazing and cheered me up today.

6. The Fray's Over My Head. I hate that overtime line, which is unfortunately in the chorus, and the video seems off, but the song seems like the real deal. At least more real than Coldplay, their piano brothers. Radio-wise, I think it's what Low Millions' Eleanor was for me last winter.

7. Granted, I've only seen a few hours of American Idol. Ever. But I caught Chris Daughtry this week, and it was the most legitmate performance I've seen on the show. From all I can imagine, it might have been the most legit ever. He makes Bo Bice look like … Bo Bice. On the Idol website, Daughtry says his favorite female artist is Kelly Clarkson and his favorite male artist is Rob Thomas. He's got to be lying, but I appreciate it.

8. Pete Yorn's Closet, which is a much better song if you ignore the distancing intro on it. The song came to mind after catching the beginning of Boat Trip and wondering "Just when do they realize they're on a gay cruise?" enough to end up watching the rest of the movie. Which was absolutely as bad as reviewed, but still better than last year's sequels to Get Shorty and Bridget Jones.

9. Jamie Foxx, taking no shame in reprising his Gold Digger contribution in every one of his public appearances, including parts one and two of his Laughapalooza, filmed before the same audience on the same night.

10. Randy and Earl singing the theme song to The Greatest American Hero while they were trapped inside an empty water tower in this week's episode of My Name Is Earl. Until they sang it, I didn't know the song existed. Never saw Greatest American Hero. But now I know "Believe it or not, George isn't at home" isn't an original.