I feel like a King who just got his wish...We are actually going to get above the freezing mark today when we top out at a whoppingly warm 34 Degrees.
Pass me my Holy Shorts and fire up the grill, Amen.
I would look good in my shorts by the way, because after a mere 18 days of meatlessness, I have lost 7 pounds.
I am now a stunningly sexy 6 foot tall 194 pound loooove machine, and I won’t work for nobody but you.
And listen up my fellow parishioners, the balmy weather and weight loss isn’t the only excitement going on in our town…
Bill Clinton is a-comin’ to our fair burg. That’s right, at nine o’clock this evening, the 62,000 denizens of Bagwine, Ohio will be treated to a Presidential pop-in.
He was here in 1992, and I went to see him that time. I don’t think I can go to see the big guy tonight.
The event is being held at the relatively new and expansive Bagwine YMCA. My body shudders, I break out in hives, and become nauseas whenever I get within 200 feet of any type of exercise equipment.
I’d rather not appear on TV lying on the floor in a puddle of anxiety goo…sobbing. I’ll leave the spotlight to shine on Billy Boy.
I do have other things to occupy my Sabbath. I am going to go over to Schmoop’s Mom’s house and pick up the purse she left there yesterday.
I am then going to go see Ryno again for a few, and when I get back to the digs, I am putting my meatless vow on the line.
Poor Schmoop is suffering from the monthly menstrual curse brought on by that selfish, insatiable Eve chick.
Because The Schmoopster's basement is flooding and she feels under the weather, I am going to prepare fresh, handmade Bagwine Burgers for her.
Why would I torture myself like that?
Because…I’m Matt-Man, bitch, and for those I love, and with whom I still maintain a slight chance of having sex, I go that extra mile...
Physically, Spiritually, and Culinarily. Take that Satan.
And now, let us bow our heads and pray…
Holy Father, as I work my meat in the kitchen today, give me the strength to avoid temptation by keeping my meat from passing across my lips.
Almighty Claymation Director, I hear that Ralph Nader is going to be on Meet The Press this morning.
Help him to realize that running for President AGAIN may feed his fragile ego, but most prefer him to get drunk, hop into a Corvair, and crash into a telephone pole.
Lastly O’ Great Googly Moogly of Machinations, there are only five days left in Black History Month. Help me to become part of Black History by allowing me to have sex with Tyra Banks before month’s end.
To all of this, Lord Hear Our Prayer…
Amen, and Amen.
Speaking of my Tyra Banks dreams…Today’s Sunday Serenade comes to us courtesy of The Cranberries. Headed by the Emerald Isle lovely, Dolores O’Riordan enjoy their song, Dreams.
Cheers!!
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