Lent! The Musical
Since yesterday was Ash Wednesday, there are a lot of grumpy folk in the world going without chocolate/alcohol/sex/swear words today. In short: everything I get out of bed for. As a Reformed Catholic (read: hellbound, totally), I don't participate in the whole Lent-Easter-God dealio. Jesus = cool dude but not actually my homeboy. Still, I like the idea of Lent. Giving up something you love for 40 days, cold turkey, just because. I'd like to give it a whirl, but I'm not sure what to forfeit.
Sex
I've been on a voluntary (shut up) Sex Lent for like the past year, so that's out. (And somewhere in Michigan my dad is all, "LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU.")
Cigs
No. If I quit smoking, everyone at work will shoot me in the face because, a) I turn into a shrieking ball of Bitch without my nicotine fix, and b) my only good ideas come on smoke breaks.
Booze
Maybe. Except I'm kind of in detox-mode now anyway, and also: let's be realistic here.
No, I want to give up something GOOD, something I'd really miss. Like picking at my split ends. Or Craigslist. Flirting with my Hot Married Boyfriends, the Delgados, saying the word "like" instead of "said." Hairspray. Snarky comments made juuuuuust under the breath. Diet Coke. Defamer. I've already given up all my TV shows because they stink. (Coupling without Jeff? Whatever dude.) I guess I could give up stealing music, but then I wouldn't be able to listen to yummy songs like this. Probably I should give up dating sexy hipster boys who think a great date is a Schlitz at the Goldstar followed by a quick grope in my car. But then what would I write about here?
Ah, to hell with it. This whole Lent thing is too hard. Let's not and say we did.
* * * * *
Sleater Kinney, "All Hands On the Bad One"
Hefner, "The Hymn For the Cigarettes"
"To Hell With Good Intentions," mclusky
Sex
I've been on a voluntary (shut up) Sex Lent for like the past year, so that's out. (And somewhere in Michigan my dad is all, "LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU.")
Cigs
No. If I quit smoking, everyone at work will shoot me in the face because, a) I turn into a shrieking ball of Bitch without my nicotine fix, and b) my only good ideas come on smoke breaks.
Booze
Maybe. Except I'm kind of in detox-mode now anyway, and also: let's be realistic here.
No, I want to give up something GOOD, something I'd really miss. Like picking at my split ends. Or Craigslist. Flirting with my Hot Married Boyfriends, the Delgados, saying the word "like" instead of "said." Hairspray. Snarky comments made juuuuuust under the breath. Diet Coke. Defamer. I've already given up all my TV shows because they stink. (Coupling without Jeff? Whatever dude.) I guess I could give up stealing music, but then I wouldn't be able to listen to yummy songs like this. Probably I should give up dating sexy hipster boys who think a great date is a Schlitz at the Goldstar followed by a quick grope in my car. But then what would I write about here?
Ah, to hell with it. This whole Lent thing is too hard. Let's not and say we did.
Sleater Kinney, "All Hands On the Bad One"
Hefner, "The Hymn For the Cigarettes"
"To Hell With Good Intentions," mclusky
Tequila Red called it a day @ 2:27 PM
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