HI-HO!

ANECDOTES AND HOW TO'S FROM THE GIRL YOUR MOM SUGGESTED YOU STOP HANGING OUT WITH

Rise And Shine And Give God A Bloody Mary

A Bloody Mary is a super alcoholic drink. And I don’t mean it’s particularly high in its alcohol content, but that the only people that really like Bloody Marys are most likely alcoholics.

“Ah, well I really don’t drink that much but I kinda like Bloody Mar—”

Shut up. You have a problem. And we love you. Won’t you just sit down and listen to what we have to say today? Please?

       

But enough about what I had for breakfast.

Here in Atlanta it is not only illegal to sell alcohol on Sundays, but it is also illegal to serve Bloody Marys or any other delicious alcoholic beverages in any establishment before 12:30 in the afternoon. Which is of course why I go to church every Sunday. There’s no sense not to if you can’t throw ‘em back until church is out anyway. Praise His Name. I Need A Drink.

But really, I’ve always had a great time in church from as far back as I can remember. My parents in no way forced me to go when I was a child. The kicking and screaming was just another way I expressed my love of sunday school and The Good Word. As was the faking being sick every sunday morning and the turning off of my mother’s alarm clock in the middle of the night in hopes that (fingers crossed) she wouldn’t wake up in time to get us all dressed and fed and out the door before 10:15. It worked twice. I was a genius.

I remember being so angry that my mother not only dragged me to church once again but also signed me up to be an acolyte at the age of 8 years old that I threw a hymnal to the ground. My mother informed me right away that I was pretty darn lucky that wasn’t a Bible, because we were in church and God wouldn’t let me get away with that shit. Not for a second. That’s the only reason I’m currently alive — God did not smite me that day. Praise His Name. He is merciful.

        

Every single Sunday was like a test of wills. And my mother was no pushover. If I tried to come up with an excuse as to why I couldn’t go to church that morning, she would essentially act as though I didn’t exist. She would straight up ignore my ass, right up until it was time to get in the car. Then she’d sit there in the garage and honk the  horn and then I would yell and then she’d continue to honk the horn until I gave up and got in the car. You can’t fight with a car horn. They can yell louder than you can.

But you know how the old bible verse goes:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son so that whoever so believed in him would get a *free pot luck lunch after the sermon. Yippie!!!!!!!!!! 

Jonas Brothers 5:16

*donations accepted

That was the good thing about church: Free mac n’ cheese made by a little old lady who’s been making the stuff for like 500 years. And she makes it goooooood. And why don’t you have some cherry pie too, hun? 

                 

                            Praise His Sweet n’ Savory Name. Church Is Delicious.

  1. xohollyhox posted this