Day of Days
So it's about that time in the Catholic calendar when everyone has confessional and this priest has been in the booth all day long without a break, and he's really got to take a leak. So he peaks his head out the side and gets a random parishioner to take his spot for a minute.
"But I don't know what to say to these people," the guy protests.
But Father Tom says, "Oh, no, don't worry. There's a list in there for whatever someone does. Like, if someone has impure thoughts or says the Lord's name in vain, have them say a few Hail Mary's and a couple Our Father's and that's that. If someone admits to stealing something, then they'd have to say a few more Hail Mary's and a couple Nicene Creed's. Anyway, you'll see the list; it spells it out for you."
And the guy agrees and figures, well, this won't be so bad so long as Father Tom's quick about it.
The guy sits in the booth and in walks this lady on the other side, and she says, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I cheated on my husband and had oral sex on my neighbor."
And our guy looks at the list and he can't find her recommended repentance for Oral Sex. He's looking and looking and he can't find it anywhere and he's getting nervous that he's going to blow the whole thing so he sticks his head into the next booth over and asks the deacon, "Deacon, what does Father Tom usually give for Oral Sex?"
And the Deacon replies: "Normally, a Hershey bar."
Last night was a good way to cap off a violent weekend: a bonfire at Joey's and smores with some amigos and shit. Told Catholic priest and zombie baby jokes and reminisced about our first concerts and famous people we've met. But...
This is not what I wanted. I did not want a rematch. I didn't want to have to sit with that knot in my stomach, waiting to see if it would subside or turn into a straight up ulcer or something. If the Bucks lose tonight, it will be a matter of intense personal shame, because Ohio State athletics is all we have here in Ohio, and to be shamed again on so national a stage is just too much for our humble state to take. I am no fan of Ohio, but the Buckeyes are in my blood--they are part of me. They are my rallying point--the flag I follow. I cannot watch them fall to Florida again.
But greatness comes at such a price. And champions are those who rise to meet and overtake the challenge. And the table set in November and turned in December/January has turned once more.
Plus I think Joakim Noah's about due for a career ending ankle injury or something.
Also on the homefront: tonight we're having a sign-painting meeting for the Wednesday OAR/Clear Channel/Nederlander Entertainment/Program Board protest. I hope this goes well (and begins the cementation process of a respectable-enough-when-looked-back-on Pytlik legacy at Miami)... but I am realistic if quixotic.
"But I don't know what to say to these people," the guy protests.
But Father Tom says, "Oh, no, don't worry. There's a list in there for whatever someone does. Like, if someone has impure thoughts or says the Lord's name in vain, have them say a few Hail Mary's and a couple Our Father's and that's that. If someone admits to stealing something, then they'd have to say a few more Hail Mary's and a couple Nicene Creed's. Anyway, you'll see the list; it spells it out for you."
And the guy agrees and figures, well, this won't be so bad so long as Father Tom's quick about it.
The guy sits in the booth and in walks this lady on the other side, and she says, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I cheated on my husband and had oral sex on my neighbor."
And our guy looks at the list and he can't find her recommended repentance for Oral Sex. He's looking and looking and he can't find it anywhere and he's getting nervous that he's going to blow the whole thing so he sticks his head into the next booth over and asks the deacon, "Deacon, what does Father Tom usually give for Oral Sex?"
And the Deacon replies: "Normally, a Hershey bar."
Last night was a good way to cap off a violent weekend: a bonfire at Joey's and smores with some amigos and shit. Told Catholic priest and zombie baby jokes and reminisced about our first concerts and famous people we've met. But...
This is not what I wanted. I did not want a rematch. I didn't want to have to sit with that knot in my stomach, waiting to see if it would subside or turn into a straight up ulcer or something. If the Bucks lose tonight, it will be a matter of intense personal shame, because Ohio State athletics is all we have here in Ohio, and to be shamed again on so national a stage is just too much for our humble state to take. I am no fan of Ohio, but the Buckeyes are in my blood--they are part of me. They are my rallying point--the flag I follow. I cannot watch them fall to Florida again.
But greatness comes at such a price. And champions are those who rise to meet and overtake the challenge. And the table set in November and turned in December/January has turned once more.
Plus I think Joakim Noah's about due for a career ending ankle injury or something.
Also on the homefront: tonight we're having a sign-painting meeting for the Wednesday OAR/Clear Channel/Nederlander Entertainment/Program Board protest. I hope this goes well (and begins the cementation process of a respectable-enough-when-looked-back-on Pytlik legacy at Miami)... but I am realistic if quixotic.