Livin' La Vida Loca

This post was initially intended to be about penis heads (do not unfollow me!) but that's taken a second seat as life itself has been violently shoved to the forefront by a recent turn of events. Circumstances beyond my control compacted with a bout of delusion recently prompted me to do the stupidest shit the gutsiest thing ever and quit my job at the Church of Jesus Christ. I'd rather not discuss what led up to my rash and possibly stupid decision, but let's just say it was a long time coming.

People often react in a funny manner when they find out I work in a church and I must confess it kind of hurts my feelings, guys.

Then I get all offended and respond in the same manner every time:  

All jokes aside and truth be told, I've never known exactly what I was doing there. I mean, it was an interesting dynamic to see what goes on behind the scenes at a Christian church and I can attest to the fact that African-American Christians are the sweetest people on earth and they love cake as much as they love Jesus which makes them awesome in my book. What do you know? Maybe I just answered my own question and I worked at the Church of Jesus Christ because I love cake (and Jesus too when he's nice to me).

Anyhow, after making my decision to pull the quitting trigger and heading home in a daze, I found myself in that state of mind people often times do as they delve into the darkness that is depression and abandon themselves to the dumps. What the fuck am I going to do with this life of mine? I thought as I undressed in the shower and felt the tears threatening their downpour upon me. My mother's been hinting she'll disown my ass if I don't go back for my master's soon but I'm prepared to face that monster when the times comes because I hate school as much as I hate celery and trust me, that's a whole lotta' hate.

That Friday night, I thought a warm bath might possibly help bring me clarity, so I turned on the ipod into shuffle mode and got ready to battle the imminent tears. I soon discovered when the music started playing that this was no war for amateurs and the tears would be making their way out, like it or not. I was pretty close to winning the crying game when Michael Bolton had to come and fuck everything up for me!

Bruno just sat there watching me weep and howled along to the music as snot dripped out of my nose and my body shook in anger and dissapointment. If there's something worse than crying so hard spittle is shooting out of your mouth, it's doing it while you're naked and Michael Bolton is belting it out in the background while your dog looks all confused but decides to cry along too because "Hey, some shit must be really wrong." As I stood there drenched in snot and tears and spittle and water I couldn't help but marvel at the irony of it all. And then, as if Jesus Christ himself was mocking me from above:

And just like that, something told me that thing's were going to be alright, even if I have to endure some tough times prior to seeing the light at the end of the vodka tunnel.

Just don't give up on me guys! You are warned that maybe my posts in the coming weeks may not make any sense as I try to decipher this thing I call life (as if it wasn't crazy enough before the very real possibility of kicking it under a bridge ninja-style with my dogs). Famosity is still within my reach... *insecure shrug*.

Sidenote: If you don't understand the Ricky Martin reference in this post then you're going to have to read back a little. Grab a beer while you're at it (and one for me too because not only am I now poor, but also unemployed).

Update: ... It's been brought to my attention that Jesus Christ is now following me. Apparently he still loves me, even if I did turn my back on him. HALLELUJAH! Now I have Jesus and the devil on my side. If this doesn't catapult me to stardom, then I don't know what will.