It’s been a really long week. I could have gotten together with Mary and Nick tonight, or I could have gone to the dinner dance.
Oh, the dinner dance. Last year was…well, it was amazing. But this year it’s actually at church, which will significantly cut down on the drunken reveling. I’m guessing. Wait a minute. Yeah, maybe it won’t. That parish likes to party. I saw people I’ve never seen before at Mass tonight in sequins and enough foundation to make a Boston Store makeup girl weep. They were looking for a great time.
Also, everything was like set up through the narthex and the school hallway and it’s all congested and twisty and there’s crap hanging from the ceilings and yeah, probably nobody will fall down and expose their…ahem…area to the general public.
(I still want to know what’s going through your mind when you think, “Oh, I’m going to a church function. I know! I’M NOT GOING TO WEAR PANTIES!!!” Stupid whore.)
I freaking love drunk people.
But I don’t think it would be the same, and like nobody else was going, so I’m doing the significantly more dorky but FUN way and studying Irish history notes and drinking sangria (Carlo Rossi- who I also discovered this morning provides the wine for St. Monica’s. I knew I liked that place…). It’s a good time.
Oh, I served confirmation this morning despite not actually being a server this morning and the fact that it wasn’t actually at my parish. Whatever. It was fun. But their albs were significantly more like priest’s albs and less like the loser server ones that we have and damn, I think I have figured out the real problem facing today’s clergy. It’s not celibacy or the sex abuse scandal- it’s the fact that those albs are ridiculously unflattering.
Except maybe it’s just if you’re busty. Which shouldn’t be a problem, I guess. Hmm. So maybe it’s just a problem for post-pubescent female alter servers.