Fisting for Jesus

My recent life. A few highlights for the millions who care.

Homeless for many moons, we finally have a new place to hang our hard drives and t-shirts and–sorry, Kathleen–get back on the fucking internet. And it’s in the right school zone. Yay us.

Dateless for many moons, I recently took advantage of all the internet has to offer and found myself a good and hot Christian woman. Yay Jesus.

Saturday evening, two hours before I was due at her place for a home-cooked dinner and an adult sleepover, she dumped me. By text. Because I don’t believe in the Great Magic Beard in the Sky.

With my childminder already on her way, I wasn’t prepared to admit that I’d just been binned off for Jesus, so I went out anyway, picked a movie at random, and ended up seeing something called Yoga Hosers, simply because of the name.

Turned out it was the new Kevin Smith. Turned out it starred his daughter Harley Quinn, who totally rocks, a certain Lily-Rose Depp, a ‘hilariously’ disguised Mr Depp, and even the fabulously knowing Vanessa Paradis. Complete with some of the worst special effects and best musical numbers ever seen. Also Natasha Lyonne.

Turned out the critics and most movie goers all hate it.

Turned out I was quite lidderally THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WEST OF HOUSTON who wanted to see the thing. Seriously. On Saturday Fucking Night. In a big fuck-off movie theatre. The only person who wanted to see Yoga Hosers was the idiot who had just been dumped for Jesus.

Turned out I loved it. Let me put it like this. Yoga Hosers is Dude, Where’s My Car? meets Anchorman for teen girls of all ages. Only sillier. With a taste of Gremlins, Bill and Ted, and maybe even Clueless. And I could watch the condescending riot grrl Harley Quinn Smith and Lily-Rose Depp double act for life. Fuck it, I want to be their new drummer. But moving on …

Turned out I slept in my car. Again. To keep up appearances. But then on Monday evening, I get a text from a certain good and hot Christian woman, and thirty minutes later it turns out she’s sorry and she’s coming over for a nooner tomorrow. I haven’t quite decided if I’m going to be there to let her in, or if I’ll be out seeing Yoga Hosers again. Most likely though, I’ll be fisting her for Jesus. Sorry boot that.

Make up your own jokes about speaking in tongues.

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