So I get to church and try to park...evidently the Pope issued a special edict that Catholics no longer have to park between the lines. This is good for me. I like special treatment like that. Of course, I'm pretty sure this is the same reason Martin Luther broke away...no spot for his damn horse.
We were late, so The Wife likes to pull the 'baby room' trick in an attempt fool Father into thinking we weren't really late. Whatever. We get there and there was this little girl. She was a cutie but she was non stop. Non. Stop. Srsly. If at one point she would have stopped and had to cut and snort another line of coke to keep going I would not have been shocked. She had those little girl shoes too. They made this sound on the floor: *thump* *thump* *thump* *thump* one way and *thump* *thump* *thump* *thump* the other way. Mom just let her go.
It's okay. It's my church and I expect this.
During the homily (I had to look that up, I was going to call it a 'sermon' but my acute Catholic senses told me that was wrong. Saved by 40 years of nigh paying attention.) Father was blathering on about something but it was hard to pay attention with all the *thump* *thump* *thump* *thump* one way and *thump* *thump* *thump* *thump* the other way. He also has an accent so what follows is totally not my fault.
Anyway, Father said the word 'basilica' at some point. With all the distractions though I heard this:
RUN! It's the church come to strike you down with holy Jeebus fire! Repent now mofos! (I'm fairly certain that's how the pope refers to non-Catholics.)
Think how useful the Godzillica would have been during the crusades though. You could worship inside and then go kick some ass. Take THAT heathens!
The good thing about me mishearing something like this is that it burns a good 10 minutes of church while my little mind turns it over and over.
About this time another little girl, with a much lighter step, comes in and we start having a race around the baby room. Lil Miss Speedball was winning by a mile until:*thump* *thump* *thump* *thump*...*WHUD*
Yeah, the ump says she was 'safe.'
She bounced right back up in time for mommy to actually dart forward -- Hey! Nice ink mommy! You're gonna need a lot of butt spackle to patch that crack though. -- and grab her girl. She held her around the waist, but I was pretty certain that anything less than a full-nelson wasn't going to do it. Nope, she was out of the pit in record time.
The Wife and The Boy left around this time. I assumed it was to go potty. Then about five minutes later I saw them heading up to the altar for the Holy Ritz.
Wha? Did I miss a memo? You leave me in here with speed racer and her mommy -- who I noted was wearing socks with her peep toed shoes. Is it me or is that wrong? -- and head off for crunchity waferness?
She got back and I leaned over. "You ditched me! No cookie for me today."
She just started laughing. See? Even The Wife works against me in church. How am I supposed to get all holy with all this material flying around?
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