A Very Blasphemous Blog

Okay:

Warning: Today's blog contains some outrageous blasphemies.

Today was my first day at work after two weeks off for winter vacation. It was not as bad as it could have been. Most of the kids weren't there. But I realized something today that I've known for quite some time.

I need a new job like Amy Winehouse needs Jesus.

There is a woman at my job, though, who makes it all worth while. She's got this amazing body. Wide child bearing hips. A ridiculously plump booty. And these big juicy what-are-you-gonna-do-with-those lips. Predictably, she's a Jesus freak. Carries a bible in her purse. What a waste!

I'll be talking to her, erection rising like Old Glory at dawn, then she'll mention Jesus and my little wiener goes limp quicker than you can say Ecclesiastes.

I read a quote on some random stranger's myspace page. Attractive woman, with a tag line that said, "You're heart should be hidden so deep in Christ that a man would have to seek Him to find you."

Jesus freaks.

What can you do?

I was courting a woman for almost a year. Fine. Built like a brick shit house. Sex appeal oozing from her pores. Intelligent. Educated. Ambitious. Funny. Carnivorous sexual appetite.

Not a freak, but an absolute whore for Jesus.

Every night of the week she was doing something with her church. I eventually gave up. Not because her little holy barrier worked to ward off an ill-intentioned suitor, but because I knew I had no future with this woman. I live in the real world. She lives in fantasy land and believes in a magical God who sleeps with mortal women and impregnates them with his divine seed. Then that seed sacrifices his own life for the sins of all mankind. Nice story. Only sin continues and suffering continues. And I can't get any pussy because she's afraid her magic God will get mad at her and punish her with eternity in hell.

So much for intelligence.

I went on a date during the break. Nice girl I met through a friend at a party. She agrees to go out with me. I take her to a nice restaurant. And right after she orders her entree, she mentions that she has a boyfriend. Then she tells me that she does not believe in contraception, in any form, because sex is for reproduction only. So I had to sit through a one hour dinner with the mother of all Jesus freaks. She even quoted a little scripture. Boy, can I pick em.

Now I know what to do next time I'm at the pool and a big booty walks past. I'll just close my eyes real tight and think about Jesus. Then I'll be all filled with his goodness and my evil little penis will be too embarrassed and ashamed of itself to rise again. But it will rise again, won't it. Ironically, my penis and Jesus have something in common. Even though they're, like, mortal enemies now.

Thanks for reading.

REDSKINS TO THE BOWL!


Confession: I once farted audibly while my ex-girlfriend was giving me head. To her credit, she did not let it stop her. But she did give me a funny look.