That sound? Is my grandmother turning in her grave.

So…I spent the evening watching The Vicar of Dibley episodes on Netflix with my sister. Because what the hell else would I have to do? Right?

(HEY. I’m only 22. It’s not sad for a few more years.)


We watched the Christmas specials that ended the series, where Geraldine marries Richard Armitage. (He’s also known in my house as The Guy Who is So Hot Even My Dad Likes Watching North and South.)

And. New life plan. Screw this whole history professor thing. And my bordering-on-militant Catholicism? Gone.

Nope. I’m going to move to England, gain four hundred pounds, and become an Anglican vicar. And then meet Richard Armitage and have lots of sex and babies. Anglican babies. Because while I find the idea of hitting on your congregants a little bit disgusting, seriously, did you click on that link before?

Protestantism is where it’s at.


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