Fun With Religion
Although I was baptized Catholic, I was raised Episcopalian. The story of my baptism itself affords some amusement. My mother finally agreed to her family’s urging, and told me later it was because the prospective godfather offered to give me a snowsuit as a baptismal present. Since it was September in Wisconsin, the need was obvious, so you could say that my mother sold my soul for a snowsuit. I may have told this story before, but my point in telling it NOW is to explain that I did not have a Catholic upbringing (“Then why didn’t you just say that and spare us the repetition?” they interject fretfully), so I gleaned most of the below from Rom.
A CHILD’S VERSION OF WORDS AND PHRASES
St Boniface = St Boney-Face
Sacred Heart = Scared Heart
Corpus Christi = Carcass Crispy
“O Mother of the Word Incarnate” = O Mother of the Purple Hornet (I guess that’s the Green Hornet’s cousin)
“Angel of God, my guardian dear…ever this night be at my side” = “ever this night bite my side”
THINGS I’VE BEEN TEMPTED TO DO IN CHURCH
–poke the neck of the person in front of me with the pointy end of a palm on Palm Sunday
–tuck in someone’s shirt label
–glare at someone who wasn’t taking their screaming baby into the crying room WHICH IS PROVIDED FOR THAT PURPOSE
You can see that I haven’t progressed much beyond childhood myself. I seem to be stuck in the adolescent stage. complete with liturgically-inappropriate tattoo.
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT
Sam has the dubious distinction of having the new Poise bladder-control liner named after her. The latest ad says, “I never go anywhere without Sam in my pants!” Poor, poor Sam.
In other product news…I’ve begun to suspect that expiration dates are a scheme to get us to buy another item before the first one is used up. Exhibit A–dental floss. What do they expect to happen if I don’t use it up by March?
WORLD LEADER-RECOMMENDED CUISINE
You know what’s good? An egg-on-biscuit sandwich followed by an ice cream sandwich. You know what else is good? Drinking a packet of French dressing (well, just what’s left over when I’m done with the salad). But not all at the same meal. That would be gross.
Speaking of stuff I recommend, I don’t recommend bringing one’s entire collection of H.P. Lovecraft stories along to alleviate anxiety on long car trips.
DOING SOME MORE GOOD WORKS
I didn’t sit at my usual restroom-adjacent seat at McDonald’s the other day, and I’m sorry I didn’t, because I ended up having to yell across the room, ‘THAT DOOR STICKS; YOU JUST HAVE TO PUSH REALLY HARD!” They better fix that door. I can’t be there all the time.