Sunday, July 16, 2006

Priest Infection!

My older brother got married over the weekend and, of course, I was in the wedding. I got to throw the flowers in the aisle as I looked adorable in my frilly dress.

Anyway, the girl he married is Catholic, so they had a Catholic ceremony. I've been to quite a few weddings in my time, but this was the first Catholic one. Maybe you don't know this, but they're fucking crazy.

In all my years on earth I had never been to a Catholic mass or sacrifice or whatever, but I figured I had a faint idea of what went on. I had no goddamn clue.

It's like a place where people with OCD get together to co-depend one another into a depression coma. The priest says something and, without hesitation, people spout back, "And also with you," or "Amen," or "We don't need no water let the motherfucker burn."

It was stand up, kneel, sit down, stand up, kneel, sit down. It was like a goddamn improv game, but I wasn't supposed to be a gas station attendant who had to tell a giant chicken that I was out of gas without using the letter R in the style of Tennessee Williams.

So, while that was creepy, nothing was as creepy as the Priest who was overseeing the ceremony. I hate Priest pedophile jokes because they're so hacky, but I'm pretty sure that this guy has been involuntarily relocated a few times in his priesthood. If he didn't have the weird Church graduation robe on, and, instead, some poor-fitting khakis with his stained polo shirt tucked in holding up his protruding belly, you would think twice before letting him put anything in your child's mouth.

His most striking characteristic, though, were his eyes. I used to have a cat, Zelda, who had the same ocular phenomenon as this guy. His eyes constantly shook. I affectionately referred to him as Father Googlyeyes. There was a point in the ceremony when he was reading off of some scroll or something and he lost his place. I couldn't help but to make myself laugh because I said to myself, "I'll bet he's thinking, 'Who keeps moving this paper?'"

The fact that my body didn't break out in open sores at that point only strengthens my Atheism.

The rest of the day was fine. I guess it kind of shows where my childish mindset is when the first thing I wanted to write was about how I got two pieces of wedding cake. I mean, I don't dance and I don't drink, so there's not really much going on for me at a reception except to sit like a pervert on the sidelines and stave off a boner from watching the 80-year-old couple bumping and grinding to "My Lumps" by the Black Eyed Peas.

2 comments:

Miss Scarlet said...

Ugh catholic weddings are WAY TOO LONG.

Anonymous said...

Well, you got two more pieces of cake than either the bride or the groom.