Communion and Kroger
01/12/2004
6:51 p.m.
Before we get to the real juicy stuff, let me first ask you to take a moment and follow this link and click on "donating a mammogram" for free (pink window in the middle). It's absolutely free, I swear. But it's something that, due to recent events, has become very near and dear to my heart. ************************************When I was in high school, my friends and I would normally hang out at each other's houses. And, if it were a football game night, we'd go to Waffle House afterwards for some quality time. Perhaps we were a bit boring and a tad goody-two-shoes, but that's how it was done about 8 years ago in my neck of the woods. So tell me this- When did the freakin' Kroger become the national hang-out center on Friday nights?! (For those of you in the dark, Kroger is one of the nation's largest grocery retailers. It's not in every state, but we happen to have 6 within our little city.) I got there about 8:30 on Friday and, by the time I walked out the door at quarter to ten, there was about 30 little 16-year-olds milling around the front entrance. I had seen a few couples in the store, but I figured they were actually there for, y'know, groceries. It was like moths to a big blue neon sign that says "Kroger". There they were, sprawled all over the benches and tables to the side of the sliding doors. The girls were giggling and all "no, please don't pick me up Toby! Put me down, put me down!! Hehehe!!" and "Did you hear that Tracey made out with Steve? EWWWWW!!! He is sooooo gross!" And the guys trying to be tough and all "Man you should see the sweet wheels my Dad's gettin' me!" and "Dude, you scored with Tracey? You rock!" Of course, half of those conversations were on cell phones. Almost every kid had one of those suckers glued straight to his or her ear. You'd think you'd burst a major artery if you pulled the phone away. 'Cause what better way to spend quality time with your friends than talking on the phone to the other friends that aren't there? ************************************So I went to that funeral I was telling you about. The neighbor's mother passed away on Wednesday and the burial was held on Saturday, which also happened to be her birthday. The service was a Catholic Church. Now, I've never been to a Catholic Church for any kind of service, and now I know why. I'm not a religious person by any means, but if I ever get the fever for some Jesus lovin', please kindly point me in the direction of this entry. That way I'll make sure I don't try to convert to Catholicism. Anyways, we get there a little bit early 'cause Dad's a pallbearer, and he needs to make sure he know which casket to pick up. Once there, Mom and I take a seat with another neighbor and quietly wait for the service to begin. About 30 seconds before the service begins, this big ol' gaggle of women come bustling in the side entrance and start taking up the right aisle of seats. They do their little curtsey and cross thing by the pew and file on in. It's about this time that I hear one of them whisper to her chubby friend, "Now who are we supposed to mourning for again?" Apparently, this church was providing the family with their own set of professional mourners. Or maybe they were just there for the free wine that come with the communion. Speaking of communion, how do we know exactly what the priest was whispering over the bowl of croutons? He could've been invoking the spirit of Bloody Mary for all we know. Or, at the very least, reciting a dirty limerick. And are all the services that choreographed? Everybody was all standing up and sitting down all over the place, blurtin out these nicely scripted sayings that no one bothers to tell the non-Catholics about. At one point, I got really excited when people started reciting the Lord's Prayer. I know that one. So, I started reciting it with them, but then they cut off the end. So us idiot methodists and baptist are left finishing the last few lines while the catholics turn and look at us. Just some dirty trick to figure out who the real catholics are. And I swear that priest really needed to watch where he was shaking that holy water at. I could see a few grieving family members wiping their faces from where he'd gotten 'em right in the eye. Oh, and the incense they swing about in that gold urn? It don't smell too good. You'd think they would at least use some lavendar or a nice rose scent. ************************************Holy Bejeezus, Batman! Something quite unusual happened in the past week or two. There's suddenly, like, more than 2 people reading this thing. The pressure is ON, man. Now I gotta be all funny and interesting and stuff. Never fear, dear readers, I will not let you down. Now, to the Lys Cave! Ok, wait. I'm sorry. That was so cheesy. I can't really justify lame comments like that. Carry on with your business. Pretend you didn't read that.
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