Posts Tagged ‘confessions’

The Confessional

Wednesday, July 30th, 2008


It’s that time again – another embarrassing confession to make. So, I took a trip to see Father McBangs and cleanse my soul.

 

Me: Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

Father McBangs: You seem to be doing a lot of that.

Me: Way to chime in with the catholic guilt right off the bat there Father.

Father McBangs: I haven’t seen you at church recently. What’s the crack?

Me: Sunday mornings are a bit tight for me.

Father McBangs: Any particular reason?

Me: Brace yourself – here comes the rain. OK, so I can’t make it to church on Sunday mornings because I stay up really late on Saturday nights watching UFC. Don’t judge me.

Father McBangs: I thought you were anti-fight.

Me: No, that’s just girl fights. But MAN fights – well, they’re just hot.

Father McBangs: That’s not something I expected you to say.

Me: Well, real fights, like two chavs exchanging drunken punches after a pub crawl – that’s not hot. But two men, half naked, sweaty, in a cage, pummeling the living crap out of each other, what’s not to love about that?

Father McBangs: I can think of a few things.

Me: C’mon Father, you should try it. Well, not participating, of course, your robes would get in the way. But I bet you’d like the spectating.

Father McBangs: Sweaty men, in a cage, pummeling each other you say?

Me: Not only that Father. There’s punching, kicking, wrestling. Sometimes, their sweaty bodies just lay entangled on the floor of the cage as they try to find new positions where they can possibly break their opponent’s arm or some other limb.

Father McBangs: Sounds delightful.

Me: Oh it is Father. It is. And there’s some guy called Anderson Silva, who apparently is some kind of super human that no one can beat. But it’s really fun watching people try.

Father McBangs: I can think of better ways you can spend your time, like, in church, for example.

Me: Well, Anderson Silva’s body is a temple. Can I worship there?

Father McBangs: Congratulations, you just earned yourself three rosaries and 10 Our Fathers.

Tags: , ,
Posted in life | 2 Comments »

The Confessional

Tuesday, April 1st, 2008


It was time for me to get some things off my chest again, so I paid a visit to Father McBangs for confession.


Me: Wassup Father. Heavens to Betsy, have I sinned! It’s been about a month since I was last up in here.

Father McBangs: Sussudio girl?

Me: Awww, you remembered? I’m touched!

Father McBangs: Only because it got me hooked on the power of Sussudio, which hasn’t gone down well with the Bishop, but what are you gonna do?

Me: Trust me, he’ll come around to the overwhelming talents of Phil eventually. Hang in there.

Father McBangs: So what can I do you for?

Me: Well Father, again, it’s a pretty bad one.

Father McBangs: Fear not, my child. God doesn’t judge.

Me: Yeah, well, he might renege on that whole thing when he hears this. OK, so, for the first time ever…I watched Dancing with the Stars.

Father McBangs: And?

Me: And I enjoyed it! Ugh. I feel dirty and used.

Father McBangs: What’s wrong with Dancing with the Stars?

Me: What’s wrong with it? Let me count the ways Father! First off, I don’t even know who any of these alleged ‘stars’ are, which should, in itself, negate the whole premise of the show. Secondly, I pride myself on having impeccable taste in pretty much everything, but yet, when this show came on, I couldn’t look away. It’s like car crash television.

Father McBangs: I’m partial to a bit of salsa myself.

Me: Really? I took you for more of a cha cha kinda guy.

Father McBangs: You should see me when I get my hips working.

Me: Those are words no one should ever hear their priest say. Look, you have to help me Father, I don’t want this to get out of hand. The whole thing was just so wonderfully camp, I don’t know if I can give it up. The outfits, the pancake makeup, the stiff, lacquered hair, the train wreck that is Monica Seles.

Father McBangs: Yikes, yeah, she was pretty bad, but boy, what a trooper.

Me: I know, right?! And that deaf chick. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I kind of got a lump in my throat watching her – I mean, it is kind of amazing, no?

Father McBangs: The Lord works in mysterious ways.

Me: Like making you deaf but filling you with the spirit of the dance? Hells yeah.

Father McBangs: And I like the skimpy outfits and the men’s satin shirts billowing in the breeze.

Me: Do you also like Madonna by any chance?

Father McBangs: Why yes, I do actually.

Me: And Kathy Griffin?

Father McBangs: Yes! How did you guess?!

Me: Just a hunch. Look, can you just douse me in holy water or something, drown me, water board me in that shit if you have to. I can’t have this Dancing with the Stars debacle become a dark stain on, what has otherwise been, a pretty flawless record of good taste.

Father McBangs: Well, you’ll have to do a few rosaries for this one, for while I am a fan of the show, the Big Fella isn’t (He doesn’t like the band, says it’s a sin to cover classics so badly). And take a few bottles of holy water to bathe in on your way out.

Me: Cool. Oh and can you pad this pew a bit more, because if this run of bad taste continues I might be here a lot and all this kneeling is playing havoc with my knees. Thanks. Peace out Father.

Father McBangs: Peace out, indeed.

Tags: ,
Posted in life | 4 Comments »

The Confessional

Wednesday, February 20th, 2008


Even though I’m going through a crisis of faith right now, I had some things I had to get off my chest, so decided to go to confession.

Me: Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been….well, it’s been a really frikkin’ long time since my last confession.

Father McBangs: Please don’t curse.

Me: Oops. My bad. So, can I just jump right into this?

Father McBangs: Yes, my child. What would you like to confess?

Me: Well, I gotta tell ya Father, it’s pretty bad. I…I…I like Phil Collins.

Father McBangs: [silence]

Me: Yo, Father, you there?

Father McBangs: Are we talking ‘Genesis’ Phil Collins or the solo Phil Collins?

Me: Solo, of course.

Father McBangs: Good, ‘cause no amount of repenting can forgive ‘I Can’t Dance.’

Me: I hear ya homie.

Father McBangs: So, how long has this been going on?

Me: I’d say roughly a year. I’m completely overcome with the power of Sussudio. I don’t know how it happened. I’d obviously heard the song many times before, but one day, I heard it on the radio in the car and my foot started tapping uncontrollably. That night, under cover of darkness, I downloaded it from Limewire, wait – will I have to do extra penance for illegal downloading?

Father McBangs: I’ll try to overlook it.

Me: Good looking out. So anyway, since then, I listen to it all the time, but only on my iPod, with my headphones on, because I don’t want anyone else to know. But recently, I just don’t want to hide it anymore. I mean, I listen to the song and like Phil says, ‘it feels so good, if you just say the word…Sussudio.’ Try it Father.

Father McBangs: No

Me: Go on, say it.

Father McBangs: Absolutely not.

Me: Just say the word!

Father McBangs: Su, Su, Sussudio!

Me: See?

Father McBangs: You’re right. That does feel good.

Me: And now it’s progressed to other songs. ‘In the Air’ and ‘Easy Lover’ in particular, move me.

Father McBangs: Are you an Easy Lover?

Me: I don’t see what my loving habits have to do with any of this.

Father McBangs: You’re in a church.

Me: Bygones. Can we just stay on topic here? So what should I do? It’s getting hard to keep this under wraps. I’ve started humming along really loud when Phil plays on my iPod. I think people might be onto me.

Father McBangs: Well, things could be worse. You could be a fan of Akon. So, I’ll talk this over with the Big Man but I don’t see why I couldn’t talk it down to 10 Hail Marys and an Our Father for you. So, in the name of the Father, the Son and…

Me: Yeah, yeah. Cheers, Big Ears. Peace out. Sussudio!

 

Shame on you, Guardian


Oh boy, did the shit ever hit the fan over at The Guardian last week. On their website, they decided to give a travel blog to a 19 year old kid about to embark on his first big adventure to India, of all places, It’s so cliché it hurts. Read the kid’s first article here.

 

Now, to those of you unfamiliar with the British media system, let me explain a few things: 19 years olds getting their own columns in, what is probably, the best national newspaper in the country, NEVER happens! This is England: home of cynicism, the school of hard knocks, the creator of ‘working your way up the ladder’. You are basically expected to work for free, making the tea and doing the editors dry cleaning till you’re roughly, 35. Then, they might pay you marginally more than a Chinese sweatshop worker.

 

But getting your own column, at 19, to document a trip that thousands before you have made? Not bloody likely.

 

You’ve got to love British readers. They could smell the shit a mile off. The kid’s article got over 940,000 comments, most of them bashing him and the editors for printing such tripe. (Personally, I couldn’t even finish reading the article, I was cringing so much.)

 

All the backlash prompted the editor to write this post the following day, justifying his hiring choices.

 

I don’t care what they say. Either this kid is related to an editor, or he’s blowing one. Plain and simple.

 

(Thanks Tam, for the heads up!)

 

Dear Readers,


I’ve been at this blogging thing a couple of months now. There are a whole lot of people stopping by here to read everyday and I’m feeling the love, my babies, I am. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. This is really a learning process for me and I want this blog to be the best it can be – so if you’re reading this, please be sure to leave comments. Let me know what you like, dislike, what you want to see more of, less of, things you’d like to know my opinion on etc. I want to know that I’m taking this in the right direction and I really appreciate your feedback. And seriously, if you are stopping by here to read regularly, I can’t thank you enough. With that said, get commenting!

Tags: , , , ,
Posted in life | 8 Comments »