Poor Dead Paul Harvey

C.  Jesus.  Her church (yes, her — I’m a fairly equal-opportunity employer) was one of those weird not-really-a-religion joints — you know, they’re not Catholics, they’re not Baptists, they just have a big-ass building and a huge sound system.  Anyhoo, she was a perfectly ordinary Presbyterian or something when we met, then she switched to wacko church and they told her… well, you know how they feel about equal-opportunity!  So she dumped me for Jesus.  Because I’m a sinner.  AND she cheated on me with a drummer, but the LORD is the one who actually got me shitcanned.

2.  I believe no food exists that cannot be made better with:

C.  All of the above.  Because my definition of gravy is very broad.  Spaghetti sauce is gravy for pasta, hot fudge is gravy for ice cream, dressing is gravy for salad…

3.  At the bar, I usually drink:

C.  Heavily.  Which is bad, I know, but I get sweaty and bitchy and THIRSTY and, well, it IS a bar…

4.  Aside from wardrobe constraints, I shave my legs:

C.  If I think I may be gettin’ some.  But I do admit sometimes they get too poky and prickly and I shave out of anger.

5.  I switched my “favorite” NFL team from the Panthers to the Saints because:

3.  The fucking Panthers kept making me cry and sit in the bathtub.  In the dry bathtub, fully clothed, because they were JUST.SO.BAD.  So my Number One team got flipped with my Number 2 team, so I could experience what it felt like to watch an entire game without Kleenex.

As for y’all’s answers… I think we all know why we’re friends.  It’s because we’re basically the same person in several bodies… like bees or something… this makes sense, I know it…



Filed under Jesus and Pals, Just Call Me Beavis, La Vida Loca, University Challenge, Youse Guys

34 responses to “Poor Dead Paul Harvey

  1. I love these answers and the fact that you have a broad definition of gravy!


  2. Ok, so I haz to ask . . . is the Jesus cheater still batting for the opposite team or did she revert to her original godless heathen ways? Just curious how long Jesus took hold and kept her repressed.

    Also, the last time I was in Vegas, I went to this place called Martorano’s, and they are very old school gangster italian cooking, and they referred to their sauce as gravy all throughout the menu, which was a little confusing, but still made sense. So, you are totally right about the whole gravy thing . . . Are you italian per chance?

    And yes, I often feel we were separated at birth. I always wanted a sister . . . can we paint each other’s nails and have a slumber party? Better yet, let’s just go the bar and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your bathroom. Don’t be surprised if you wake up with permanent marker on your face though . . . don’t say I didn’t warn ya.


    • Far as I know, The Bride of Christ ended up married to some dude and quite unhappy about it… karma, anyone? And I’m not Italian (Irish and feather-Indian, not dot-Indian), but I’m glad a WHOLE ‘NOTHER CULTURE thinks I’m right! Also, I’m totally putting your hand in warm water while you sleep…


  3. I’m inviting myself to y’all’s slumber party. I can be your bodyguard and make sure nobody Sharpies you. Pretty please?

    I grew up crazy religious and have been up close and personal with some Jesus cults. I’m pretty sure I’ve broken up with at least one person due to Jesus (and also due to the fact that I hate people who smother me and breathe down my neck….so there’s that). I kept the J dude around not so much to worship but because I needed someone to blame.

    Also, I stopped being a God-botherer largely because of stuff like that so I’m just waiting for my mom to ask me why I’m an agnostic. I want to reenact that pot-smoking PSA from the 90s where the kid looks his dad straight in the eye and says, “Because of YOU. I did it because of YOU.” Sadly, she probably won’t get it because she had her sense of humor removed by the Jesus police.


  4. “Because my definition of gravy is very broad. Spaghetti sauce is gravy for pasta, hot fudge is gravy for ice cream, dressing is gravy for salad…”
    Touche, my friend, touche. I take my answer back, and I’m broadening my use of the word “gravy” from now on. I hope I freak the fuck out of some people saying I’m putting gravy on my pasta. Yes.


    • I personally can’t wait to go out to eat and ask for some extra gravy on the side for my salad. I’m a large woman, so I wonder if they’ll automatically assume I mean “gravy” gravy. I hope they do. Then I’ll raise hell about size-ism and stereotypes and how I’m utterly mortified when all I wanted was some extra fat free ranch dressing to dip my lettuce into. Maybe I’ll get a free meal. Hmmmm, this could be fun… hee hee hee… 😉


      • I freak waitstaff out by my need for lots and lots of condiments. Like, I need sour cream to dip a steak in, I need applesauce for my porkchop, I need white country gravy for my hash browns… There is literally nothing I eat just as it comes.


  5. Jen – Duh, goes without saying! And singing into our hairbrushes while dancing around in pjs of course. Oooh, and pillow fights!!

    Hoody – is there some rule on your site that I can’t comment on a comment once it is past like 3 comments (did that make sense? No? Fuck, I don’t know how else to describe it). Basically, I attempted to comment on Jen above, which is below 2 other comments from my original comment, but I couldn’t b/c there is not “reply” button below her. Comprende? Damn, words are hard . . .


  6. we sort of have #1 in common…other then not Jesus more like higher education… I have forgiven her even though I am the one who broke it off. We are friends still to this day.


  7. the only question i DIDN’T answer the same as you, is the first, because my first true love left me for “some dude.” damn her!


    • well, I guess technically Jesus IS some dude… but it’s REEEEEALLLY hard to compete with all that walking on water and shit!


      • also, the catering is hard to beat too… half a fish and some mouldy bread and he can have a sitdown dinner for 300 guests ready with the wave of a hand, or a quick prayer (or whatever, really, I never got that far any of the few times I’ve tried to read the Gideons bible in hotel rooms, so I’m kind of vague on the details)


  8. But . . . but . . . Jesus is hot.

    I. Did Not. CHEAT ON YOU!!!!!!!!!


  9. But . . . but . . . Jesus is hot.



  10. Pingback: The Husbands of Hoody | hoodyhoo

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