friday, part the 2nd…

I volunteered at the school today and they worked me over like a cheap hooker. Okay, maybe not the best metaphor considering the fact this is a Catholic school, but you get the picture. It was 5 hours of hard labor–without an epidural. Trust me, drugs would’ve helped, tremendously.

I had a good time despite the fact I was wishing for a hit of pain killers. I hung out with a cool Egyptian chick (been in America since ’68 so really she’s more American than Egyptian now…) anyway, Maggie is the mother of 3 beautiful girls. You know, dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes…the kinda girls that will be called “exotic beauties” when they’re older. We had a great time. We spent the day moving and unpacking boxes and laughing at assisting the snooty other moms were also there to “help”.

So, this whole Catholic immersion thing is new to me. A: I’m protestant and a lapsed protestant at that. B: I think organized religion ruins spirituality C: What do you mean Mass doesn’t count except on Saturday’s after 4:00 pm and on Sundays? If it doesn’t count, why the hell are y’all going all the damn time? But I’m hanging in there and being as supportive as I can be for a heathen an uneducated protestant.

Sometimes I worry one of the parents will find my blog and my kids will be kicked out because their mom has had naughty thoughts about Steve from Blue’s Clues (honestly, can they forgive a naughty river?), has posted half nekkid pictures of hot guys, is writing a Vampire YA, and gets pretty hot and bothered when reading MMF. Could you imagine that conversation?

“But she’s in PTO. She can’t be all bad.”
“But she likes reading MMF sex! I bet she liked watching Queer as Folk… (I did. Hot naked guys for 1 hour a week. Duh.)
“She writes about the undead. She’s a sinner.”
“We could convert her…”
“Um. Do we really want to convert her?”
“Good point.”

Of course, this is my overactive imagination working overdrive ( I write fiction, you know?) The school takes our money and welcomes us into their fold. It’s been fabulous there. The kids like it tremendously and I’ve felt very welcome by the people who count. (actually, the majority of the school and administration has been more than welcoming. Just one or two moms have tried their best to make me feel uncomfortable. They didn’t realize I thrive on the challenge..)

Just because I feel like it, here’s one of my favorite scenes from Rush Hour (shut up, I like this movie). It’s not the scene I quote the most… (“Do you hear the words that are comin’ out of my mouf?”) But it is one of my favorite scenes. Enjoy, bitches.

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