I tagged along to church today to support my roommate's fledgling stand-up career. She was going to perform a set during the intermission of their annual summer fashion show. It was at Church and 46th Street in Brooklyn. Yeah.
I don't know why none of the parishioners wanted to talk to me. I ate all the food that was offered me and even had seconds. I bopped to the Jesus music,I clapped for the dancers. I don't know why everyone was giving me dirty looks. Maybe it was the dirty jeans. Maybe it was because my roommate was telling jokes about dating 15-year-olds and missing your period, or about her dog's shaved penis. I certainly thought it was funny; I don't know what crawled up their butts and died. I don't know why that woman took that picture of me. Maybe it's because I hooted at the child girl models and said, "Damn girl!" about three times before realizing I was in a tevangelist church. I don't know much, but I'm pretty sure we're not invited back.
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