Saturday, March 23, 2013

I Mean, Is The Pope A Catholic?

Get ready. Grab a diaper if you have not already shat yourself with excitement. And while you are at it, locate your finest rosaries because we are about to PAAAAAAAARRRRTTYYY.
It's a celebration bitches. There is a new pope in town and he ain't fuckin' around. Pope Francis is his name and preachin' the word of God is his game. He hails from Argentina and for the past couple of days since his election he has been boppin' around, makin' his rounds. 


remind me why we give a fuck again? I spent 7 years of my life (against my will) in CCD, I do not need to spend anymore time believing that I am destined to burn for eternity.
For you ignorant folk, CCD is after school catholic school that meets once a week. It sucked huge holy balls. I will never forget the days of Elementary School when all of us second graders, destined for hell of course, would line up for confession. Shaking in my platformed sketchers, I would enter the darkened room with the priest sitting in his chair. What did I do, what did I do? Father, it has been six months since my last confession and these are my sins: I lied about putting my Barbie dolls away, I called my brother the "s-word" (stupid) and I did not make my bed. Usually a few "Our Fathers" and a plethora of "Hail Marys" would get me out of jail free. Phew, it was usually a close call. It was always a successful trip to the confessional booth. However, I usually lied during confession anyways because I could not for the LIFE of me remember which atrocities I had committed. I mean, I'm in second grade, I probably didn't kill any shit dicks yet.
Sidenote: a special thank you to Father Larry who scared the SHIT out of a whole room of seventh graders by telling them that masturbation or any impure thought in general is a one way ticket it to H-E-double hockey sticks. Never, I promised myself (and God)... never shall I commit such an atrocity. 

Religion is scary. I recall stories my grandmother told me. Stories about how gifted children often times received visits from the Virgin Mary. I put two and two together and just assumed it was only a matter for me. There I was, gifted as fuck, waiting for my own personal haunting from the virg herself. I had to sleep with the lights on until tenth grade... okay, maybe it was up until yesterday (but that's neither here nor there). 

The moral of the story is that I'm over it. I've got bigger fish to fry. Specifically, one fish being the disaster that was the Girls season finale. But that, my friends, is a completely different story altogether.

 So what if we have a new pope? My boo 2pac said it best: Only God Can Judge me.

Masturbate responsibly my little sexies.

And to my loyal minions, I appreciate you. 


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