Something to start with

This day I am feeling like I could be limousine on fire.

Here is the story of my life:

When the sperm met the egg that would soon develop into my lumpy little body it was mostly unaware that there was another sperm and another egg going about the same routine just a few centimeters away. This other ugly, round motherfucker was my fraternal twin brother. The ultrasounds showed us positioned in the womb like a fetus yin and yang. To this day I'm not sure which one of us is supposed to be the light one. Most people would think it was me, but I have plenty of reason to doubt.
We sucked out nutrients from our mother together for roughly 8 months, and when we were fat enough a doctor with a knife decided it was time for us to get born.
I was born in Valparaiso, Indiana-- Home of Orville Redenbacher's Famous Gourmet Popping Corn. I don't remember it. All my early memories are from Colorado.
Colorado is an insanely beautiful place. My parents built a small house up in the mountains where we all lived happily until small became too small and little brother Luke entered the stage. Everyone got biblical names except for me. Thank God.
My grandmother also lived with us. She might or might not be the main reason why I am spiritually retarded.
Every Sunday I would tag along with Grandma to church. I would get placed with other slimy kids in nice outfits and we would play games and listen to fantastic stories about Jesus and friends. Those stories! They were the reason I thought, in my first encounter with death, that Tina the stupid kitty cat could be dug up from the yard and somehow have magically forgotten that she had electrocuted herself by chewing on a wire behind the washer, staggered out to the bottom of the stairs, and died promptly in a puddle of her own piss. Grandma, who was on the phone at the time, seemed entirely annoyed by this notion and finally lost it when I started wiping my snot and tears on her skirt.
"Jacquie! Tina is dead! Tina is dead that means she is never coming back!"
I can never thank my grandmother enough for being so blunt.

Here is how I was saved.
There was a large gathering of children, butt-faced children, and we were all half-listening to what the pastor guy was saying and half-wondering about things to eat or play with. He said something about if we didn't accept Jesus Christ as our personal saviour we would be going to Hell. I remembered that Hell was a bad place and I didn't like bad places so I listened carefully to what he said next.
"It's so easy to accept Jesus into your heart! You just say this prayer and really mean it." He then urged us to say the prayer in our heads and after doing so those who were newly washed in Jesus' blood could come up to the front and receive a wooden nickel! The prayer in my head went something like this: "Hey God and uhm Jesus, I was just wondering if you would forgive me of my sins? You could be my personal savior and stuff. Wanna do that?"
I waited a few minutes for an answer. No answer. I decided to go get a wooden nickel anyway. You could buy prizes with the wooden nickels! I got a little plastic frog that jumped when you pressed down on it's butt.

After this my experiences with Jesus are very limited. The closest I've ever come to really believing in the Almighty is when a soda machine took my dollar and after I yelled GODDAMMIT, a good amount of change trinkled into the coin return.




More on Colorado in my next entry
keep the peace