Godlessgirl.com is probably written by a male somewhere between 66-100 years old. The writing style is personal and happy most of the time.
Despite my sarcasm, cuss words, and vagina, this is what the internet thinks of me? Hilarious. I love it. I am an old man who speaks personally and is generally happy. Hoorah for me!
Now what to do with these boobs…
After my family stopped attending Catholic mass regularly and started frequenting a Presbyterian church, I discovered the absolute delight of “Communion Sundays,” which were only once a month. I loved the tiny little plastic cups passed around in fitted brass plates. After sipping up the grape juice, I would do the classy and mature thing by sticking my tongue into the cup to get every last drop from the bottom. I’d suction it onto my tongue, waggle it around, and make silly faces at my friends until an adult noticed and I had to busy myself with the bulletin or something.
My favorite part of Communion Sunday was the bread. I loved that bread. I sometimes called it “3-D Jesus” because it was in a small cubed form instead of the flat, bland wafers we used to dissolve on our tongues at mass. No crackers or matzo here, just soft cubes of a dead guy.
The best thing about this bread was its taste: it was sweet like buttered honey and it fairly melted into your teeth like a soft candy. Jesus tasted damn good. I once tried to take more bread from the passing plate, but I felt ashamed that someone might see, so I contented myself with just one tiny square of Jesus.
Now that it’s not even symbolically holy and I still remember the scrumptious taste of that bread on my tongue, I very much want to eat it again—but in mach larger quantities. Did they buy it or bake it? Is this a common communion food among protestant churches? I’ve googled “sweet communion bread recipe” and not come up with anything particularly enticing.
If you’re out there, Jesusbread baker, can you give me your recipe? I want some with a little honey on top. Like, now. I’m starving.
I like it on a hook.
If you’ve been on facebook lately and seen ladies post status messages like “I like it on the floor” or, “I like it on the chair,” they aren’t talking about sex (and aren’t you glad my “hook” wasn’t about doing the nasty?). The statement describes where you keep your purse, but the purpose is to raise awareness about breast cancer during National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
Yeah, I rolled my eyes too. I’m not a fan. But why would a woman dislike a viral campaign that promotes a good message? In short:
- How is a suggestive statement about where you place your purse supposed to raise awareness about a deadly disease? I don’t think it does—even if people are buzzing about it.
- One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetimes. How will this meme do anything to influence what steps women take to protect themselves from further risk?
- My father died from breast cancer. Men get it too, even though it much more rare. All the pink, purses, and focus on women doesn’t help my own grief. It may be selfish, but it’s honest. Don’t forget the men.
One of the very best comic strips for laughing over religion, skepticism, politics, and science is the delightul Ape, Not Monkey by Jeffrey Weston. Often what Weston can illustrate in four panels is more than I could say in a long-winded blog post. Check out some of my favorite editions:
I also included Ape, Not Monkey in a previous edition of hilarious comic strips.