Monday, September 27, 2004

Dude, move the hell over.

Yes, you. You're so proud of yourself because you got to church 3 minutes before mass started, and now you need to be on the end of the pew so that you can duck out on your way back from the communion line, grabbing your stuff in the pew and high tailing it. Because you really need to be the first one out of the parking lot. The church is the size of a shoebox. Not high tops or boots--little slingy sandals. There're like a hundred people in the whole building. Maybe two. I'll be generous and say two hundred. May of them came in the SAME CAR, this being a family church and all, but that's TOO MANY people to attempt to take turns getting out of the parking lot. Like, did you fail kindergarten? Are you unable to handle he goes, I go, you go, I go? Or did you miss the frigging reading about the first being last and the last being first?? Who are you? And why do you get ticked when I show up as the opening hymn is starting and ask you to either move in, or let me pass? Like I'm inconveniancing your life or something. And you never just move in (ok, sometimes you do, but it's with a HUGE look of "put out"). You ALWAYS make me and my 6 ft 6 in husband crawl over you to get past you, so that you can be the first one out of the parking lot. Dude, move the hell over when you get there, or be late, like me.


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