something about this just makes me feel old.



till the easter bunny comes our way


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amy and i are talking about good friday, since she's trying to give up men for lent (her mother would rather she gave up drinking) and i find it all a wonderful bit of cognitive dissonance, considering church sexual teachings. anyway.

'my grandmother is crazy about it,' amy says. 'at her house you can't speak between noon and three o'clock. she sits there and prays. we'd have school off that day and it sucked because we would have to stay at her house and we couldn't even watch a movie or something. "you don't watch tv. you sit there and pray and think about jesus up there on the cross giving it all for you!" i'm like, yeah, i recognise that, but three hours? ten minutes, yeah. i get it.'

'christ our lord appreciates your support,' i say.

'he does,' amy replies. decisively.


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