Category Archives: God

The One Scary Thing In Life


I’d like to quote Maya Angelou and say, “Life doesn’t frighten me, no not at all.”

That would not be a lie.

While I find life to be exhausting at times, and often think that death would be quite romantic, (I never understood how death could frighten people) there’s really nothing to fear from life.

Well, I mean besides for answering phones, and venturing into unfamiliar businesses, and telling your Rockstar to his face exactly how you’re feeling. But nevermind about that.

I do not fear heights, or water, (even though I cannot swim) or snakes, (I wish to have a managerie of them one day) or spiders. (OK, that may be a bit of a fib.) I do not fall into hysterics when I glimpse a clown, and I quite enjoy rollercoasters. Since I moonlight as a superhero, I don’t even have a fear of flying. All of these are the most common of phobias, yet I face this list and simply say, “Pshaw”. (Which means oh, shit)

Perhaps it is the overly-zealous religious upbringing I had, and I’m sure all you Athiests will burst into incredulous guffaws, but demons scare the livin’ bejesus outta me.

You would think this would keep me from watching every exorcism-based movie that comes out.

(Pun intended) Hell, no.

IT is BECAUSE of my religious background that these movies enthrall me so. I also find it quite interesting that only Catholic people seem to get possessed.

I’ve just gotten done freaking myself out by watching The Devil Inside, a Blair Witch-like faux-cumentary. I must say that despite critic reviews, I found it to be pleasingly terrifying. I’m sorry, but who does NOT get chills by listening to the multi-languaged ramblings of pluralized demon voices coming from an unexpected female body? While true exorcisms are not allowed to be filmed, and I really have no intention or desire to witness one, it is easy to believe that such horrific happenings occur. (For me, anyway. You athiests may be less trusting.) Perhaps it is my childlike faith, (or my foolish gullibility) that makes me believe so.

According to what I have been taught, no demon’s gonna get me, ’cause I believe in God.

I wonder why that doesn’t work for the Catholics?

Yes, I realize that being robbed at knifepoint or threatened with an armed weapon could be just as terrifying as speaking in tongues while writhing around in unnatural positions. But believe me when I say that there is still a possibility of kicking a thug in the balls while he’s trying to rape you. What’r’ya gonna do to the Devil’s assistant when he’s IN you? Feed him?

You all probably think I’m nuts.

But let me point out something.

Just because you don’t believe in the demons, doesn’t make them not real.

And when you get possessed by Azazael or Beelzebub or some other ancient spirit named Legion, don’t be pissed when I told you so.

Just please don’t pass them on to me.

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Lust Incarnate


There aren’t many people who haven’t heard of Lucifer; the whole story of how he got a God complex and was thrown out of  Heaven with his minions is pretty well- known.

A lot of people wonder, “What would make an angel ignore all the perfection of heaven enough to get cast out for all eternity by a forgiving God?”  Believe me. I’ve been asking myself that same question ever since God decided He didn’t want me there anymore, either. See, what people don’t realize is that Lucifer and his buddies aren’t the only ones that got banished from Heaven- they’re just the only ones who got any publicity.

People call me Zu, but my real name is Pharzuph.

I can’t say that I’m completely unrecognized. You’ll find me mentioned in the angelology texts as the fallen angel of fornication and lust. Hey, it could be worse. I’d rather be known as a whore than be stuck ruling a burning lake of fire, wouldn’t you?  I guess you can probably figure out now what got me kicked out of Kingdom Come.

Anyway, I guess God had a little soft spot for me, because he didn’t send me straight to Hell. Instead, I’m stuck here in this shithole of  reality called New York City. On the plus side, I get to do what I do best. To clear things up, I’m a high-class escort, not a two-dollar hooker. Like there’s a difference. The only distinction between the two is soap and a couple hundred bucks.

Check back for more of Zu’s story! XOXO

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If I Was God


The question has been posed numerous times throughout the history of the world concerning the “whys”  of God. Now let me ask you something- Does the being who created everything need a reason to fuck with people? I think not.

This got me to thinking. What would I do if was God?

First of all, I would never have given humans free choice. Now, I’m not saying God made a mistake with that one, but why mess with perfection? You see what happens when people are left to their own devices. People try destroying infidels by flying planes into buildings and women tempt men into eating fruit. Perhaps I would have given free choice to people and then just blown everybody up every hundred years or so when shit got really bad…

Since I’m kind of a bitch, I’d probably strike people dead with lightening at various intervals when I was bored. After an eternity of having absolute power, I’m quite certain just sitting around watching  the idiots of the world running around like, well, idiots would be quite dull unless you were screwing with people every now and again. I’m quite certain there would be many more “natural” disasters too.

One of the things that would be completely different is that the only people I would bless with children would be the ones that wanted them in the first place. None of this “accidental pregnancy” shit. Oh, yes, I realize that “oops” pregnancies may at times change people into better beings, however, I think it more often than not ends in instances of unacceptable parenting behavior. And I REALLY really tired of seeing people who shouldn’t have kids sporting an entire brood of younglings.

I also would deem it necessary to  bring back awesome creatures like unicorns and dinosaurs. Dinosaurs are frickin’ awesome, man! After I Jurassic Park-ed the entire world,  I’d just sit back and watch to see if any kid brought a stray baby T-rex home. THAT would be interesting.

While I’m on the subject of living things, I must mention that mosquitoes would NOT be among them. Woodticks, too. I don’t think any child needs to worry themselves to death over whether they will get Lyme’s disease or West Nile like I did when I was a kid. There was an entire summer when I refused to enter the outdoors after Lyme’s disease was discovered. What a waste…. And as much as I’d like to do away with arachnids, I realize some of them prove useful, so Charlotte and her other spider friends would be safe.

I would also make sure that there were many less ugly people around. I’d keep a few here and there so the beautiful people would still have something to make fun of, but for the most part, I just don’t feel that the world benefits more from having asthetically non-pleasing people, so I’d just make sure everyone turned out gorgeous.

Because I believe in corporal punishment, and everything would be all about me if I were God, (hmm, odd that me being a non-deity doesn’t affect that fact now) unbelief and defiance would be dealt with swiftly and harshly. As in- you’d better believe, bitches, or I’ll smite you down!

Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m not God…

P.S. The main thing I would do would be to make everyone love one another. Just think- if hate had never existed in the world, you wouldn’t even know what it was, so you wouldn’t even miss it.

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Versatility Is My Middle Name


Here is the final post of my All About Me series. (Ok, let’s face it- there will never be a final post about me- but anyhoo…) Thanks to Archon hiding in his Den, you shall now know 7 things about me that you didn’t know before. And Archon, you may have a booby squeeze whenever you come an’ get it, but I regret to inform you that it will be slightly less enthusiastic than Chris Meloni’s, since you are, in fact, NOT Chris Meloni. (Believe me, I am as upset about that as you are.)

On to trivia about me… (I should really design a board game about me… can you imagine how sparkly and pink it would be?!)

1. I remember well the very first porn I witnessed. While I do not recall the exact point of it, I seem to remember something about strippers and ping pong balls shooting out of cooches. I also recall my friend laughing at me when I ended up running to the bathroom and throwing up after watching such things. I think the visual sequences were a bit much for my 7 year old brain.

2. I became a born-again Christian when I was 4. It was after Sunday School at the place where I had daycare, and the good old fire-and-brimstone preaching of the Baptists had my 4 year old self terrified of swimming in a lake of fire for all eternity. I still believe Christ died for me, but I also embrace all other religions, because, after all, who am I to decide which one is right?

3. I have wondered on occassion what it would be like to kill someone. No, I do not intend to find out for myself, but I mention this only because I know I’m not the only one. I’m just the only one willing to admit it.

4. I have never taken drugs, nor do I plan on it, but I have decided that if I ever did, heroin would be my first choice. I do not know why, except that if I’m going to indulge, I might as well start with the really bad stuff.

5. My knees can never be considered beautiful, because they sport numerous scars from living the life of an accident-prone child. The worst one came from running down a grass hill as full speed and totally biffing it as soon as I hit the concrete. There is a reason why I look best on my knees…

6. When looking for love, I do not gender-discriminate. In my life I have been in love with exactly 2 women and 3 men. It just happens that the women I fall in love with don’t swing that way.

7. I am not, at any time, ok with people taking french fries and other assorted foody goodness off my plate “just to try it” when I am at a restaurant. If you want some french fries, fucking order some. My french fries are MY french fries. And my ranch dressing is NOT for you!

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A True and Sparkly Tale


Once upon a time, there was a land full of happy people with sparkly souls where everyone loved everyone else and no one judged anybody. The King and Queen  gave birth to a daughter they called Glitteratia. Princess  Glitteratia was blessed at her christening with the ability to make people smile, and everyone in the kingdom would go around grinning after going to visit her.

One day, some horrible people called Baptists snuck into the castle and stole Glitteratia from her cradle while she slept. They stole her because they didn’t think it was proper for a child to be raised in a place where it was ok for men to fall in love with other men, and where alcohol flowed freely. So the Baptists raised Glitteratia as their own, brainwashing her to think that sex was Evil, and that no living person would ever look at her again if she had it. The land of Baptists was filled with sad people who when around with furrowed brows who would occassionally find it necessary to confess the sexualized thoughts in front of an entire congregation of Baptists. This is how Glitteratia came to know that she was not one of them, because she lacked the desire to stand up in front of the multitudes and confess her sins.

On her 18th birthday, Glitteratia escaped with her Beany Babies and books and made her way through the wilderness to a sort of Purgatory that was filled with Republicans and just a few Democrats. While this land was not achingly beautiful like the land of her birth, she decided it was far superior to the Baptist land she had escaped from, so she decided to stay for awhile. She started dating a pretty boy who fell madly in love with her (for awhile) and ended up marrying him. The pretty boy had a sister who lacked a personality and insisted on trying to be friends with Glitteratia, even though her lack of personality bothered Glitteratia immensely.

Glitteratia grew depressed in the land of Republicans, because their favorite pasttimes were to go four-wheeling and to shoot deer. They also made a national holiday out of Election Day, and everyone would hunker down in front of the TV do view the results of voting. This is when Glitteratia realized she did not belong.

In the world that is not Glitteratia’s birthplace, people have a name for the sparkly land’s natives personalities. It is called histrionic, and here it is considered a disorder. Glitteratia’s husband was not willing to properly care for her personalitie’s needs and he did not realize that in an act of self-preservation, Glitteratia would leave him in search of someone more capable of giving her attention and appreciating her sparkliness. He was heartbroken, and was never fully healed.

Glitteratia wandered Minnesota until she found her soulmate huddled in an empty apartment all alone. He was called Rockstar, and had been stolen from Glitteratia’s homeland also when he was just a babe. They came together, and were never parted, no matter how many times his Daughter tried to run Glitteratia off. Since Rockstar was older, he had been away from the sparkly land for much longer, and had a hard time finding the sparkliness in his soul. Glitteratia was convinced this is why she found him; so that he can realize his true identity and they can live happily ever after.

Glitteratia now blogs under the psuedonym Sparklebumps.

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An Open Letter to Those Who Bring Happiness


Dear Maya Angelou- I appreciate you putting into poetry the words I so forcefully think in my head- “Life doesn’t frighten me, no not at all.” Even though there are times when life makes me want to crawl into a six foot hole dragging the dirt in after me. But nevermind about that.

Dear Lady Gaga- I greatly look up to you and your bizzare get-ups. I adore the fact that you don’t seem to care how scary you end up looking, and that you are still at the top of the charts while doing so. It will make it much easier for me to become famous now, because nobody will be looking at my style faux-pas; they will all be looking at you.

Dear my Incredible Auntie- When people say that we look exactly the same, I do not cringe, because I aspire to look like anyone who has fantastic kids like yours, has her own business that she enjoys immensely, and isn’t afraid to pray- “Dear Jesus, thank you for chow mein.”

Dear Audrey Hepburn- Thank you, thank you, thank you, for being beautiful and amazing and classy. You are proof that one or two failed marriages is not something to worry over, and proof that a “princess” is not just someone you can play in a movie. I am saddened that you are dead, because it would have been nice to meet you.

Dear Gramma- Despite the fact that you have grown increasingly blunt in recent years, I find it quite humorous when you truthfully tell me that my choice in hair color is “hideous.” I would like to inform you once again that as a child, my hair was blonde, and it never has, in fact, been beautifully natural black like you tell everyone it is. I think you are confusing me with my half-sister. Thank you for being always honest- even if it is in an Alzheimer’s patient kind of way.

Dear Prince (to clarify- the artist formerly known and once again known as)- I want to thank you for noticing that “all that glitters ain’t gold.” and for your funky falsetto, as it has greatly entertained me for many years. I find you to be immensely talented; however, I regret to inform you that though I would love to be a guest on one of your albums, I will not be asking you to produce my debut album. Your style is a little bit too messy for my taste. Kudos on the Under the Cherry Moon soundtrack though.

Dear H.E Ellis– Even though my Rockstar doesn’t find me worthy of marriage, I know you are out there ready to marry me whenever you turn lesbian. You are very good for my ego.  XOXO

Dear numerous candy-producing companies- Without you, I would have drifted through life without the benefit of sugar-induced energy. Thank you for providing me with Starburst, Butterfingers, Milky Ways, Laffy Taffy, Blow Pops (which also served me in my first attempts at learning how to give a blow job), 5th Avenues, etc…

Dear Jim Beam and Co.- Thank you for providing liquor strong enough to get my Rockstar jumping on the bed with his guitar. Also,  with your help, I found out he can sing just like Sinnead O’Connor. That was a little bit disturbing, but highly entertaining. It  gave me good fodder with which to tease him mercilessly.  You also induced the most amazing drunken sex I’ve ever had. Thank you again for that.

Dear Chris Meloni- Thank you for your beautiful scowl. And other beautiful parts of you.

XOXO,

Sparklebumps

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The Story of Jonah- A Translation


So awhile back I was inspired to translate the 10 commandments for the common fol who perhaps don’t know how to speak King James. Here’s the story of Jonah, which I chose because I got to hear it at church on Sunday:

So Jonah was kickin’ back  having a beer, when God spoke to him, saying, “Alright, Dude, listen up. I want you to go to Ninevah and tell them about Me. The people there are pissin’ me right off and I’m going to blow the shit outta them if they don’t repent.”

Jonah thought to himself, “Fuck that shit. Ninevah is Crime Central. If I go there, I’ll prolly get ass-raped, or someone will steall all my beer money.”

So Jonah decided to ignore God and got on a ship headed in the opposite direction.

That pissed God off, and He thought, “What the fuck, Jonah? I’m the boss here. I’ll show you what happens when you don’t do what I say, dumbass.”

So God created a huge strom, and the seamen (heehee, I said semen!) freaked out because they thought they were all going to die. They found Jonah taking a nap downstairs and kicked him, saying, “Get up, you fucker! What are ya thinkin’? Get busy praying so we don’t have a Titanic incident.”

Jonah  said, “Aw shit, dudes. This storm is my fault.”

Then the seamen (haha!) were like, “Well waht are we gonna do with you?”

Jonah shrugged. “Well, God’ll prolly stop this storm if you guys throw me overboard…”

The seamen liked Jonah, so they didn’t really want to toss him into the sea, but they didn’t want to die either, so they did.

Then God sent a huge fish to swallow Jonah whole, and Jonah had to sit in the stinky rank-pussy smelling fish belly for three days.

While gagging from the smell, Jonah prayed to God. “God, I fucked up. Seriously, dude, if you get me outta here, I will do whatever you say, because

it reeks pretty bad in here.

God was listening, and He made the fish up-chuck. With a giant belch, the fish threw up and Jonah was tossed with a bunch of algae and shit onto dry land.

“Are you gonna do what I told you to now, you little shit?” God said to Jonah.

“Yes! I don’t wanna go through all that shit again, do I?” So Jonah went to Ninevah and yelled at all the people- “Listen up! Quit your whoring around and your gambling and whatnot, or God’s gonna wipe you out!” All the people saw what a wreck Jonah was, and they could smell him from a mile away, so they figured he was telling the truth. So they put on really bad clothes and repented, and God didn’t kill ’em all.

The End

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A Letter From God


Dear Sparklebumps,

I decided to send you a letter since you are one of my Beloved Children. I don’t usually do this, but I’ve noticed you tend to keep any letters, notes, etc. that people send to you. That was one of the great ideas I thought of when I was creating you; I thought maybe you’d keep everything, so when you become famous (as I have decided you should be) you can make one of those books about your life that have all the little pull-out parts that include letters and pictures and shit. I’d like you to include My letter, so anyone who wants to read about the famous Sparklebumps realizes it was I who made you what you were.

About the picture thing- you know you’re not very photogenic. I will tell you why I decided to make it that way. I made you adorable and smart, but I figured it would be a bit much if I added photogenic, because I know you would have gotten a big head. Also, given your tendency to take nudey pictures of yourself, I figured it was probably best if your face didn’t look great in photos, that way you won’t end up in Playboy or something. I admit that Playboy is a perfect study of the wonderful female form that I created, but it’s not for you. I plan on you making your living from your wit and your way with words, (and possibly your singing voice, if you can convince your Rockstar to start a band) NOT with your semi-hot bod.

Since I brought it up- yes, I gave you big buzooms. I did that because I know you’d be able to handle the attention that comes with them gracefully. Dolly Parton is another one that I made like that; she hasn’t forgotten about Me, and I know you won’t either. I give you permission to take advantage of your boobies, after all, why else would I have given them to you? But at the same time, don’t forget it’s your brain, and not your bra size, that makes you who you are.

I want to give you props for abstaining from all the temptations I’ve sent your way lately. You know I just like to fuck with you, right? (Heh heh) You’ve done good at only doing the sex with your Rockstar , and no one else; I know how you likes the sex and all. I also sent a few hot customers your way for you to just admire from afar, because I know you like to look at pretty things.

The Rockstar thing? You’ve figured out that I made him specifically for you. He, on the other hand, is kinda being a dumbass about the whole situation. I honestly gotta say that I made the male species REALLY bird-brained. What was I thinking? Anyhoo, I’ll try to put a bug in his ear about the whole marriage thing, but he really does love you; he’s just not trusting Me enough. He thinks you might be too much woman for him, so he’s terrified to pop the question.

If you noticed, I sent you a couple new friends, (Delightful, H.E., HR, Hotspur, Brainrants, John, and Megan) They’re kind of a fucked up bunch, so I knew you’d get along with them great. Also, I made sure Delightful lived close to you so you had someone to go to that fabulous coffee shop with. If you make an effort to stay in contact with them, I’ll make sure they make an effort with you, so they don’t end up like all your other friendships.

I wanted to talk about tithing to Me. I know you’re kind of broke right now, and so I’ll let you get away without giving me any offering. You make up for it by playing beautiful piano music to honor Me, and I’m ok with that. BUT. In the future, after you have your castle, I expect 10% of your earnings. In exchange, I’ll make sure the IRS gets off your back.

I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to bless you with children. You kind of have your hands full with your Rockstar’s Daughter, and anyway- you have alot of shit to do before you become a mother. It’s up to you to get started on all that before you reach menopause. You know what They say, “God helps those who help themselves.” (For the record, that’s not in My Word; I’m not sure where it came from.)

I guess that’s about it. You know I made you one of those people that are easy to love, so get out there in the world so they can love you. (NOT in a sexual way. I guess I didn’t make that clear to your stalkers. Sorry about that.)

Your Heavenly Father,

God (or I Am)

P.S. I haven’t quite figured out how yet, but if you keep serving Me, I’ll make sure you get to boob-squish Chris Meloni someday.

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Where Santa Came From


So, I got to wondering yesterday about where Santa came from. I mean, everybody has to have a back story, right? This is my theory…

I believe Santa was one of the top angels in charge along with Lucifer. Santa and Luci were like, really close, and one day Lucifer was like, “Yo, Santa! Did you ever notice how this God dude just thinks He’s the shit, and we have to listen to everything He says? What does He think He is, anyway? The general manager of Heaven? I’m not getting paid enough to worship His power-hungry ass 24/7. I’m just as cool as he is, and better looking too. What d’ya say we blow this popsicle stand and find some of our OWN subjects. There’s like, this whole world down there with people just waiting to do bad stuff. We can go get all them.”

Santa thought about it, and since he was kinda weak, he shrugged and said, “OK, I guess that sounds better than just fuckin’ around here all day. Living in perfection gets old after awhile. ”

So off they went, covorting on earth until God decided enough was enough. God snapped his fingers and BAM. There Santa and Lucifer were standing in His presence.

“What do you think you two are doing?!” God thundered. “I made this world and I’m in charge. You think you had it rough flying around all day having nothing to do other than praise Me? I’ll show you what rough is, you little punks. Lucifer, I always knew you were a bad seed, I just didn’t want to believe it. You wanted power? Well, here you go. You can have whatever little fuckers on earth that don’t appreciate my general Awesomeness. All you gotta do is turn ’em to the dark side. And since you decided to be such a prick, I’m gonna let you live in a burning lake of fire for all eternity. Oh, and one more thing. NO MORE WINGS!”

God turned and was about to curse Santa with being Lucifer’s right hand man, and Santa panicked. He didn’t want to spend ALL of eternity in a lake of fire. So he sputtered and pointed at Lucifer and said, “It was all him, God! He made me do it! It wasn’t my idea.”

God narrowed his eyes at Santa and said, “You know what? I believe it. You are wayyy too weak and simple-minded to have gone against him. So you know what you get to do? You get the job of delivering presents on Jesus’ birthday to all the good kids on earth. I won’t make you live in the Firey Lake, but you are hereby banished to the North Pole. I can’t get anything to grow there, and there’s all these little happy people that live there called elves. I think being forced to be jolly for eternity is Hell enough.” God ran his fingers through his beard and thought for a minute. “I suppose if I take your wings away, you’re not going to have any way to deliver presents. But if I let you keep them, there’s no assurance that this won’t happen again. So, I guess I’m going to have to give you some flying reindeer. Oh, and once you get to the North Pole, you’re gonna be old. It wouldn’t look right if a hot young dude brought presents to kids.”

So Lucifer went to Hell, and Santa went to the North Pole.

Once he got there, he was surrounded by elves, which he found out were just midget orphans that nobody wanted. He decided he would adopt them, as long as they earned their keep, and since he had all those presents to make, he put them to work.

After a few Christmases, Santa was getting pretty horny, so he went back to visit God.

“God, I know I sinned and all, but I’m really frickin’ horny, and you DID say it wasn’t good for man to be alone. Soooo, I was just wondering if maybe you could , ya know, hook me up with a chic or something? Oh, and I adopted all these midget kids, and they kinda need a mom.” He added that last part just to look good.

God thought about it, and then said, “Aright, What the Hell. There’s this little place in Nevada that’s got chics that will do you for money. If you go there and pick one out, I’ll make it so she comes to live with you.”

So Santa went down to the Bunny Ranch, and found this chic who wasn’t super hot, but she was really super-duper nice, and she couldn’t have kids, so she ended up as a whore because there was nothing to be responsible for. Santa paid her, ‘cuz he wanted to try her out first, and she was AMAZING in bed. He went back to God and told Him he found a girl.

God brought Daisy (that was her hooker name) up to Heaven and sat her down. He said, “OK, Daisy. You can’t have kids. I made it that way because I knew this dumbshit was going to fuck up.” He waved his hand at Santa and rolled his eyes. “You’re a really sweet girl, and you know you shouldn’t be fuckin’ around at the Bunny Ranch. So, since I know you don’t like it there anyway, you get to go live with this guy. The downfall is you’re gonna look old, so the elves don’t think Santa is your sugar daddy. But you get to live forever and have a bunch of midget kids, which is what you really want anyway.”

Daisy was thrilled at the prospect of having kids to take care of (because she had a mothering instinct) so her and Santa got married and off they went. Daisy took care of the elves, but Santa realized God had made her so motherly, she treated HIM like a kid too, so anytime Santa was horny, he would yell, “Ho! Ho!Ho!” to remind Daisy that she had, in fact, been a ho, and a damn good one too, which was why he picked her.

Santa has grown resigned to the idea of flying around the world every Christmas Eve.

The End

 

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Sinner


Good Friday to you, my Lovelys! So for some reason yesterday- perhaps because I was bored of thinking of saucing and cheesing at work (which I am very excellent at, by the way) I began thinking of the Seven Deadly Sins. I was not raised Catholic; instead, I was raised to believe that no sin is worse than the next. This thinking is still a bit ludicrous, since I believe most people would agree with me that chopping someone’s head off and wearing their skin as an overcoat is bit more dispicable than screaming, “Fuck!” when you stub your toe on the toilet, but who am I to judge? So, this morning I looked up the “deadliest” sins, and was disturbed to see that according to some religions, I belong in all the circles of Hell. I have listed them here for you, (with the Latin terms as well, so you can all be a bit smarter today) and the ways in which I have committed these infractions:

Lust (luxuria): OK, I’m sure you are all thinking that I picked this one to go first, when in fact, it was the first one listed on the Wikipedia. So there. Dante’s definition of this sin was “excessive love of others”, which I admit I am guilty of, though not in a naked way. If we go with the Wikipedia definition- desiring a person outside of marriage– that’s another story. So I guess there’s nothing more to do than tell my Rockstar he’d better marry me to keep me from going to Hell, eh? Of course, there would still be the issue of Chris Meloni…

Gluttony (gula): Wasting of food, either through eating too much food, drink or drugs, misplaced desire for food for its taste, or not giving food to the needy -I assure you, there is no food or alcohol wastage going on in my presence. However, my misplaced desire for McDonald’s french fries may be a sin. My need is assuaged when I make sure to buy myself some, though, so that makes up for the sin, right?

Greed (avaritia): This was describe as wanting more things than a person needs. But at least I USE all my shoes…

Sloth (acedia) : This is one I’m not quite as guilty of. However, I’m quite sure that someone would find a problem with me vegging out in front of the TV watching Sex and the City for 6 hours after my work is done.

Wrath (ira): Inappropriate (not right) feelings of hatred, revenge or even denial– I believe my feelings of anger toward my ex-boss for getting firing are completely appropriate. I have no such explanation for Taylor Swift.

Envy (invidia): I must say, I do not hate people for what they have, because I have more. (Boobs, that is.)

Pride (superbia): Wikipedia’s definition of this was:  A desire to be important or attractive to others or excessive love of self. I’ve been told this is a mental disease known as histrionic personality disorder.  If I were in court, I believe I would be found “not guilty” by reason of mental disease or defect…

So there you have it. Since I have seen fit to confess my sins, that absolves me, doesn’t it?

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