In which I am eternally damned because of a shitty sandwich chain.

Well, I mean…the slogan WAS “eat fresh.”

#LiveYourBrand 

I’m really NOT a terrible person…probably…

From the department of “I’m going to hell”…

I just said something looked “more forced than buttsex on an altar boy.” 

You’re welcome. 
(Does it need to be said that I don’t actually find child molestation funny, nor do I have any qualms about religion? I did not invite that metaphor into my brain — I’m not sitting here thinking of pedo jokes as a habit. But I did think it was too good not to share. If you like, just substitute ME for the altar boy, because I don’t want that nonsense in my ass, either.)

Picture Past Perfect

I’m going to hell, but you know what’s pretty easy to part with when you’re cleaning? 

Divorced folks’ wedding photos.

White trash reco’nize white trash.

I saw a white-trash hoodrat outside a convenience store, and he was wearing a Nike shirt that said, “Damn, I’m good.”

First thought: “I bet you’re not.”

Second thought: “At what, evading child support?” 

I’m going to hell. 

We already knew I was going to hell…

Quotable: “He’s a good Christian boy, so he won’t come home with me. Well, unless I’m willing to do anal.”

Venti Triple-Shot Baptist, Extra Foam…tee hee…

Conversation with a friend…

Friend: “Mission: Flirt with Cute Barista. My phone continues to insist that ‘barista’ is not a word and changes it to ‘baptists.’ Not the same thing. Some Baptists don’t even drink coffee, phone.”

Me: “I could flirt with cute baptists. Wait, will a baptist sleep with me? Because if they don’t like coffee OR sex, I might have to discriminate based on religion for the first time in my life.”

Friend: “Depends on how baptist they are. I dated one for 4+ years and he slept with me, but he also was convinced that God would smite him for it. So… I’d avoid them.”

Does the candied Christ come with marshmallows?

My friend and I discussing her daughter’s (my goddaughter’s) baptism, which she’s been meaning to plan for some time and hasn’t gotten around to it…

Me: “Yeah, it’s time to get that kid Jesused. I have a dress, and a hankering for white chocolate molded Jesusry on a stick.”

Friend: “Mmm, chocolate crosses.”

Me: “Mmm, sweet, candied Jesus. Heh, my new favorite expression — ‘Sweet candied Jesus, that was amazing!'”

Friend: “Jesus should always be candied. Don’t forget about the holy cake.”

Me: “I always like my spirituality with a side of cake. Also, shit — now I’m picturing candied yam Christ. Even I think that’s inappropriate…”