No more Hail Marys....on the end of a bender....why not prostate cancer?

No more Hail Mary's for me.

Didn't realize this until my mother pointed it out to me yesterday that I'm no longer Catholic....

See, I became a member of a Methodist Church, which in turn made me a Methodist, I guess.

Hmmm....can you say that I really didn't think all that hard about it?

Anyway, I no longer have to deal with ups, downs and all-arounds at Mass....no more telling pedophiles my sins and unfortunately no more wine at communion.

Methodists serve grape juice.

Shee-it.

I'm perfectly dysfunctional. Mocking one sect of Christianity while joining another. I fling stones faster than the Cuban Missile Aroldis Chapman hurls fastballs.

For those not in the know, he is a baseball pitcher from Cuba that wings death encased in rawhide.

While I may throw those stones at others, however, I do toss just as many right back at myself. I'm pockmarked with bruises because of it.

I'm a sinner, not a winner....

Ok. Enough about religion. I gotta fix myself and get right before I even start to analyze Hey-sus and his posse. Gotta give one last tip o' the cap to the Catholic Church, though.

Your summer festivals are kick-ass.

"En nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

It can be a funny yet dicey proposition when you stop to examine yourself. I stopped and did so this morning while driving to school today. How much of an asshole I am for calling a woman a tramp....how self-absorbed I must be to think my view of the world is better than some tree-hugger on campus.

I thought how if my car could talk, it probably would have committed me to an institution a long, long time ago for half the shit I've said.

My Toyota Camry is a rolling rubber room and punching bag, all wrapped up into one rusty ass package.

So, I ended up chalking up today's earlier regrets to lunacy and proceeded to right the ship and call the driver in front of me a syphilitic bastard.

All is right with my world.

I caught portions of Monday Night Football earlier in the week, particularly the halftime show extolling the strength of breast cancer survivors.

Don't worry now, I'm not that tactless to mock breast cancer survivors.

But it made me stop and wonder....why does the NFL not celebrate survivors of prostate cancer? Football is a sport played predominantly by men, predominantly followed by men and was created by men.

Why are they overlooking a male cancer? Just never thought of it?

Or is it because its tasteless to ponder asshole cancer?

Just curious, is all. Anyone of my 6 fans have any ideas?

I'm just finishing up about a 72 hour no-sleep bender. I awakened Monday morning at 7 am and finally saw the darkness of slumber at about 3 am this morning. In between it was school, work, kids, rinse and repeat.

Had breakfast with my father yesterday morning, who was critical of my current habits. Said I don't sleep enough or eat well enough. Add in a pack a day of Camel's and Dad said I'm a heart attack waiting to happen.

Then he proceeded to cook up breakfast for us, consisting of eggs and country ham, in skillets with a half-stick of butter in each.

Thanks, Papa, for the good healthy eating. I appreciate your love and concern.

The hallucinations from the sleep deprivation were intriguing. Really didn't understand how both a wolf and a snapping turtle ended up at the front of the classroom with the professor in my feature writing class.

That's one of those questions you don't ask out loud, though. That's real rubber room shit to some folks.

I'm really surprised I didn't receive the gift of a telephone pole in my engine block for all my hard work over the past few days. I was able to drive pretty damn good, given the circumstances.

But, if that had happened I'd just have to buy a new rolling rubber room....

Chevette, anyone?