Friday, December 17, 2004
Going Jesus
Just came across this, via Holy Weblog!, which itself was referenced at Philocretes: the Going Jesus site. Delightfully weird, delightfully snarky, unabashedly unashamed -- but often amused -- by her commitment to Episcopalianism, hostess Sara crafts eloquent little hilarities from what she might laugh to hear described as her "faith":
Naughty Church Secretaries ClubMost recently, and perhaps understandably given the season, Sara has been obsessing over some magnificently scary holiday-themed tschotskes: Nativity scenes featuring stuffed trolls, porcelain hobbits, and living, breathing dogs; a Nativity kitchen timer; Nativity cookies and chocolates... But also be sure to check out such entries as this:
Yeah, I'm a church secretary. Given that the average image of the church secretary is someone with gray hair and a dramatically pilled acrylic cardigan who can't find her glasses because they're sitting on top of her head, this may seem like an odd career choice for someone in her 30s. I understand your confusion.
Technically, I'm a Parish Administrator, because the Rector likes to give out corporate-sounding titles. Here's what I do: I sit at the front desk and greet people who come in, and try to point them in the right direction.
Nursery School? Across the courtyard. No, we don't give out money directly to individuals in need. Here are the numbers of some agencies that could help you if they weren't swamped (I absolutely hate this part of the job). No, I don't think I'm going to Hell because I can't help you, but thank you for your concern. I think you're looking for the doctor's office next door; we don't do colonoscopies. Trust me on this one, really, you're in the wrong place. Is that Jamba Juice for me? You rock. Seriously. Go on in, he's waiting. Yay! Staples delivery! Uh-huh. That's fascinating. Really. Do you have time to fold some newsletters? You rock. Seriously. Um, I think the dog just wandered outside again. Wow, you can really do a handstand? Are you sure you want to do that right here in the -- thunk -- well, that is impressive. I scheduled two meetings at the same time in the same room? Really? Get away from the watercooler, adorable toddler. Oh, crap, let me get some paper towels, it looks like another flood. Not a toy! Not a toy! Put my stapler down, sweetie. You found what in the back of the fridge? I think its sentient. Should we baptize it? Server's down again. I am so raiding the cookies. Now.
Rinse. Repeat.
The best post about cat pee you've read todaySara is also the proprietress of the Going Bridal site, including the fabulous Cavalcade of Bad Bridal Fashion.
I wish this could be one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books, because then I could say that I'm going to talk about my day at skool [Ed.: This is how Sara refers to the School for Deacons, which she has been attending], and ask you if you would rather hear about the open flames and the world's least flattering garment™, or the cat pee.
Let's say that you chose the cat pee, because I think statistically people tend to choose the second option.
I was in my first class, and I thought I smelled something weird. Something kind of like cat pee. The territory-marking kind. Sometimes bad kitties like to come in through the cat door and eat Clyde's tuna, and one of them peed in her basket a while back. Stupid cat. So it smelled like that. And it was coming from...my bookbag. [etc.]
