Send in the Chocolate Clowns

That Jesus Sho' Gets Around

My boyfriend's back and you're gonna be in trouble. Well, he's not exactly my boyfriend, but he's darn-tootin' close. It's Jesus! And he's not only back, but the big J is back on a cross. You'd think that first go around would have cured him of crosses, but I guess JC likes him some pain. This miraculous vision showed up in Tignish, Prince Edward Island. Jesus looks scared in this picture, doesn't he? He's probably having a flashback or something. And either the J man has some rather large nostrils or HOLY MOLEY, he has one ginormous beauty mark.

Mama Mary Clowns Around

Briceson Bryan of Austin, TX decided it would be way cool to steal a five-foot statue of the Virgin Mama from a cemetery. Then Briceson had an epiphany that led him to the conclusion that it would be like totally way cooler to paint the statue to make Big Mama look like a clown. Damn straight, Skippy. I don't know about you people, but every time I see a picture of the Virgin Mary my first thought is CLOWN! Oh my god! She's a CLOWN! And then I hear circus music and get a craving for cotton candy.

Holy S'mores, Batman!

Artist Cosimo Cavallaro is at it again, but this time instead of covering a hotel room in cheese, he's made a 6-foot chocolate Jesus. He's titled it, "My Sweet Lord", which I guess is okay.

But I think "Oh Sweet Jesus! Lawd a Mercy! It's Chocolaty Jesus Goodness! Somebody Get Me Some Raspberry Sauce and a Chisel, 'cause I'm Cuckoo For Cocoa Christ! would have been better, albeit a tad wordy.

"Christ Chocula" might have worked, too.

Anyway, the Catholic League has gotten its collective knickers in a knot and has boycotted the upcoming exhibit of Choco-Christ.

By the way, the Catholic League is a lot like the Justice League only none of the members are men of steel and none of them have invisible airplanes. I'm also pretty sure none of them are named "Aqua Man". I could be wrong about that, though.

Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Catholic, The Catholic League has denounced the chocolate Jesus as "hate speech". Wowie! It must be the slow season for the Catholic League if they're having to resort to boycotting a chocolate Jesus.

Seriously, Catholic League people- it's Jesus and he's made of chocolate. That's not hate. That's pure love. Pure chocolate love. I mean, Jesus and chocolate go together a heck of a lot better than chocolate and peanut butter and no one's calling Reese's Pieces "hate speech".

I think if Jesus were around, he'd love his chocolate self and probably try to bite off one of his toes. I know I would. Mmmm...chocolate Jesus toes.

Take Care,

Babs

Fruity Balls

Excuse Me, Your Scrotum is Clanging.

Driving home tonight I found myself behind a truck that had a cowbell hanging from the back of it. My first thought was, "Well, I guess it's better than the balls that some people hang from their trailer hitch. I just don't understand why anyone would want a nut sac hanging on their truck. Is it supposed to make us think that the guy inside the truck has huge balls, too? Who came up with the idea anyway? Probably someone who didn't feel that his meat 'n veggies measured up."

Then I noticed that the guy had his cowbell padlocked to his truck. Isn't it just adorable how he thinks his cowbell is so precious he has to padlock to his truck so no one will steal it?

He also had the biggest exhaust pipe I've ever seen. If you know what I mean. No really, the exhaust pipe on his truck was at least 6" across. Which I'm sure is the reason he felt the need speed up as fast as he could before he had to stop in another 25 feet.

Anyhooha - here's the picture, embellished for your viewing pleasure.

Church Sign O' the Week

"The fruit is usually on the branch."

Oh, church sign guy! I thought I loved you before, but now I am hopelessly devoted to you. My heart might be sayin', "fool forget him", but my heart is saying, "don't let go".

So, why am I so enamored with you now, church sign guy? Because you're talking in code and I love code-speak. I've always loved it. When I was a kid I would make up codes all the time and leave encrypted messages around knowing that someone would find them and I'd imagine them all frustrated trying fervently to figure out what the heck I ekil selppa was supposed to mean. I was just so terribly clever, no? Then, in high school Ready Hudson and I made up our very own private code language, and didn't that just make us the two coolest people in the whole wide world?

Well, not really. I mean his nickname was Ready for Christ's sake. Well, it was just Ready. Pronounced Reedy not Ready. His nickname wasn't "Ready for Christ's Sake", because that would make for a really stupid nickname. Sweet Jesus, am I making any sense? He was nicknamed Ready because he was always walking around reading a book. So, you said it like Reedy, but spelled it like Ready. I seriously doubt he did it for the sake of JC or any other man-god.

Anyway, church sign guy - I'm going to play along with your little code game.

"The squished fruit is usually under foot."

And one more just because I'm such a code whore...

"Roscoe ate the Pygmy."

Let me know if you figure them out, okay? It'll be our little secret, oh beloved church sign guy.

Take Care,
Babs

God vs the Banana

Sharna emailed me the link to this video. It's a very intelligent man explaining why Intelligent Design is stupid.



And on GodTube (yes there really is such a catastrophe) I found this creationist explaining how bananas prove the the capital G god really did create everything. It's totally fucktastic!


Take Care,
Babs

Fun at the Office

My, my. I've been MIA, haven't I? It was a wild week at work. Spring at a landscape company is a bit busy. BUT. I finally have an assistant. Only part time, and possibly only temporary. BUT. I have help. It's been a huge relief. I mean, now I can do the important stuff like paint my nails, read a book or two, flip through a magazine, play games.

I kid. I kid so much it makes me hurt.

And, we now have a water cooler at the office - with hot and cold water. I'm totally stoked about it, too. See? It takes so little to make me happy.

Amidst the craziness at the office, we received this message from our stellar answering service: Wants estimate on cleaning daughters.

Well, I guess that'd all depend on what size they are. We charge more for the big girls.

Fun Away From the Office

I took today off, and it was wonderful. I lollygagged. I meandered. I lounged. I dabbled. I even puttered.

I've decided that I love the word "lollygag", and I'm going to try and use it whenever possible. Lollygag. It's just fun to say. Kind of like polliwog.

I even sat tonight on the porch swing listening to the night sounds. We have an abundance of frogs out here, and as I was sitting there listening to the cacophony of their mating sounds, I thought, "Dear god, they're some horny little fuckers." Ah yes, that's how I commune with nature.

In closing, I'll leave you with a little poem that is my tribute to little froglets everywhere.

Croakin’ the Blues

A frog jumped from his lily pad
and looking at his warty dad,
he spoke of his predicament,
and here’s the froggy's sad lament.

“I’m sick and tired of this gig
I think I’d rather be a pig.
At least then I would know my place,
and wouldn’t have to keep this pace.

I feel my life could be sublime
except I waste all of my time
in leaping from my swimming hole
then back onto the grassy knoll.

Why can I not just swim about
the lake like all the bass and trout?
Or maybe I could be a dog,
and end this game of leapy frog.

First I am wet and then I’m dry
I get so chapped I want to cry.
This in and out has got to stop
before my eyeballs finally pop.

Now you may think I have it made,
but I must tell you, I’m afraid
that it’s no longer any fun
being an amphibian.

Take Care,
Babs

Now With More Testosterone!

We're Man, Manly Men, We're Men in Tights

Church is for pussies. At least that's what Brad Stine says. Okay, so he didn't use the term "pussies", but I'll bet that's what he thinks. Brad is the founder of GodMen. What in all fine hells is GodMen? Well, it's a Christian event that is for men only. Manly men, with testosterone oozing out of their eyes. No women are allowed, because we women folk aren't manly enough to be GodMen guys. Actually, I know a few women who could kick Brad's butt all to heck and back, but I guess that's not the point here. Brad seems to think that church is too girly for "real" men and invites these men to attend GodMen.

Brad aka Hercules claims that the Jesus that is being taught in churches is too wimpy. GodMen guys are all for the rough and tumble Jesus who threw out the money changers in the temple. The Jesus who said things like "fuckin-a" and "that's hardcore, dude" and was always asking everyone if they wanted to touch his "guns".

This is what the website has to say about it, "This is a place of worship where we engage in laughter for laughter's sake, music for the sake of music, and male-specific elements that let guys be guys."

Suhweet! Where else can you go and worship the big G AND scratch your crotch? Without anyone blinking an eye, even. In fact, crotch scratch and adjusting your dingus and dangles is probably encouraged at GodMen.

GodMen has a great tagline, too. "When faith gets dangerous". I don't want to disappoint all the GodMen goers out there, but I think the whole faith getting dangerous idea has been done before. Maybe like that little Inquisition thing. Or even a few hundred wars or so. But don't let that discourage you. On the upside, if you attend a GodMen event, you can witness men bending frying pans. With their bare hands. How macho-cool is that?

Yeah. Not very. Of course, I'm not a manly man with an enormous scrotum, so I may not be the best judge of such things.

He-Man Brad is supposed to be a comedian, but I watched all three news clips that are on his website and I didn't laugh once. Not even a snicker. I think it has something to do with him being a conservative comedian. Which I think is an oxymoron. Heavy on the moron.

Church Sign O' The Week

Thomas captured this lovely sign yesterday, and it may be the best one I've seen. And by best, I mean most asinine. By the way, don't you think asinine should be spelled assinine.

Oh thou clever church sign guy, are we really supposed to believe that the capital-G God not only chose to speak to you, but this is what he had to say?

I have a little trouble believing that, but it's okay. I'll play along.

How about next week you put this up, "My dad can beat up your dad - Jesus"

Take Care,
Babs

Now You're Singin' With a Swing

I've noticed something strange that occurs to me in the morning. Here's how my morning ritual plays out. I hear the alarm, sing the first four bars of the Hallelujah Chorus and then leap out of bed and pirouette three times. No. That's not right. I hear the alarm, cuss, hit the snooze and sleep for 9 more minutes. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. At least 4 times. But when I do finally drag myself out from the pure snugly goodness of a warm husband and fluffy comforter, I realize that I have a song stuck in my head. I don't know why this happens. I don't use music to wake up to, so I know it's not that I'm just hearing the song. I use the annoying WONK WONK WONK sound. That's much more pleasant to wake up to.

Anyway, the last week of songs went a little like this:

• Monday - Alone Again, Naturally
• Tuesday - Lady Marmalade
• Wednesday - Don't Cry for Me, Argentina
• Thursday - The F.U.N. Song (from Spongebob)
• Friday - Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen
• Saturday - When We All Get to Heaven
• Sunday - Hey, what the fuck? No song.

And today, it was Tragedy. Which turned out to be an omen. Along with the TWO smooshed bunnies I saw on the road. Cute, little brown bunnies with fluffy white tails. I thought then that maybe I should have stayed in bed. I should have. I mean, the Bee Gees AND bunnies who have gone to meet their bunny maker, all before 8 am? Today was unpleasant. No fun was to be had, and I can usually find fun just about anywhere. I looked for fun under my desk. No luck. Maybe the closet? Nope. I even looked in the bathroom, but no fun there, either. I even thought that sticking my head in the copier and then slamming the cover down on my head would find me a whole bucket of fun. I was incorrect with that assumption.

Let me put it this way. Today was like sitting on a very crowded, warm bus. And the person who plops down beside you hasn't bathed in about 3 weeks. And they proceed to emit noxious gasses from various orifices of their body, all while eating a burrito and enumerating the most intimate details concerning their toenail fungus between bites. Meanwhile, you're trying your best to evade their unique aroma, but it permeates your hair, clothes and eyebrows. So for the rest of the day you have to go around smelling like funky bus person.

That was my day. How was yours?

Take Care,
Babs

It's All About the J Man

Last Saturday I got to go a local dive and watch the Razorback basketball game. It just made me all atwitter. And I'm using my fake, excited voice here, because I could really give a poo about Razorback basketball. The only reason I went was because of this unshaven, hunka manliness. He's mantastic!



Plus, I got to make fun of these two goobers guys.


The guy on the right is Thomas' brother, James, and the other guy is their friend, Mike. Mike isn't really the size of a leprechaun, he just looks that way next to James. James makes just about everyone look leprechaun size. James will also be thrilled that I put such a flattering picture of him on the internet. It's part of why he loves me so.

I kept telling the boys that if they were entertaining enough, that I'd put them on my blog. They didn't really pull through, but the table next to us did. I think Jesus was playing in the game, because the guy at the next table kept yelling, "C'mon, Jesus! Put it in the basket". And, Oh, Jesus! Can't you do any better than that?" I was trying to really pay attention every time he yelled, and I'm pretty sure Jesus is number 3 on the Razorback's team.



Speaking of Jesus, which I do so often. Here is the Christian graffiti shot I promised.


JC sure is a life changer. In fact, he'll change your life so much you'll want to deface public property in his name.


Praise J-Dawg and his daddio for Krylon. Fo' sheezy.



And what the hell, here we go with:


Church Sign O' The Week

Look at me go with a picture of it and everything. To make Thomas and I even bigger sinners, we snapped this baby while church was in session. We're for sure on the road to you-know-where now.

Hey, church sign guy, I've got an idea - why don't you use a reference to a commercial that's really old, but not old enough to be retro which would then make it all cool again? Oh wait. That's exactly what you did! Bravo to you, church sign guy. Here are a few more ideas for you.

• Yo quiero Jesus
• Got Jesus?
• Please, don't squeeze the Jesus
• Jesus: Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman.
• Church: A little dab'll do ya.
• Jesus makes hamburgers taste like steakburgers.
• Christianity: It's the cheesiest
• The best part of waking up, is Jesus in your cup
• Jesus: The other white meat.
• Jesus is the quicker picker upper
• Jesus is so good, cats ask for it by name.

So, there you go, church sign guy. I expect one of these to be up next week, okay?

Take Care,
Babs

Weirdness for the Weekend

Georgie Ruins Ruins

President Bush is going to visit some ancient ruins in Guatemala and the Mayan leaders have decided that they're going to have to spiritually cleanse the ruins after George has ruined them with his negative karma cooties.

That was one long sentence, huh?

Mayan, Morales Toj stated, "We will burn incense, place flowers and water in the area where Mr. Bush has walked to clean out the bad energy."

I'd suggest spraying Lysol, too. Just in case. And it probably wouldn't hurt for everyone to take a round of penicillin, too. Oh hell, just napalm the place. That might be the only thing that will completely remove George cooties.

Bed Cooties

Rose M. Pagley-Brown, from Siloam Springs, Arkansas, is claiming that she ended up with a nice case of bed bugs after spending the night at the Stone Inn. She stated that a few days after spending the night at the motel, she woke up and "saw and felt countless bugs on her body and bed".

I'm betting they weren't REALLY countless. She probably just didn't have the patience to count all of them.

Rose proceeded to pick off three of the bugs, put them in a Ziploc bag and gave them to her attorney.

See that, people? Here in Arkansas, we can pay our attorneys with bed bugs.

Rose is suing the motel, and is seeking damages for pain and mental anguish, embarrassment and humiliation, medical bills and expenses.

Unfortunately for Rose, the motel owner has had the Dept. of Health inspect the motel twice and no buggies were found.

I think it's because Rose took them all home with her.

Excuse Me, Sir. Your Toaster is On Fire

Boy genius, Jonathan Zaletel, of Chandler, AZ decided that it would be a good idea to cook meth in his toaster. The toaster, who is smarter than Jon, then decided that it would rather die than be part of such shenanigans and promptly burst into flames.

Jon tried futilely to extinguish the flames with water and then with window cleaner, but the toaster was just too Kamikaze for Jon. Hold the phone. Window cleaner? Of all the things in my kitchen, window cleaner would have to be way down on the "what to use to put out a fire" list.

At wit's end, which isn't far for Jon Jon, he then thought it would be a good idea to pop into Wal-Mart to buy a fire extinguisher. And doesn't it make perfect sense to go shopping while you have a burning small appliance in your condo?

Much to Jon's chagrin, when he returned to his condo as the proud owner of a new extinguisher, he was met by Sheriff's deputies and arrested. It seems Jon didn't realize that a small appliance that is engulfed in flames will set off the sprinkler system which will then bring in the fire department. He also didn't realize that these firefighters will find a meth lab, should you have one tucked away in a closet.

Poor Jon. He could have gone so far in life if it wasn't for the whole total moron thing.

Take Care,
Babs

Burn One for Jesus

That Jesus Sho' Gets Around

Jesus is back and that bad boy's burning down houses again. The roof. The roof. The roof is on fire. But no worries about that silly roof, because even though Christine York had her house burn to the ground - she's managed to find miracles in the middle of destruction. I think maybe Christie's just a little abnormally optimistic. The first miracle is that the son-of-you-know-who appeared in a charred section of wallpaper.

Christie, lambchop, are you sure that's Jesus on your wallpaper? Because I think it looks way more like Marilyn Monroe than it does the J-Man. Unless there's some picture of Jesus wearing a fur coat that I've missed out on. Oh, wait a minute. Maybe Jesus just borrowed the coat from Marilyn. I'll bet that's what it is, because we all know that Jesus was a crossdresser. Or maybe in the afterlife you're able to join bodies with someone else. So maybe Jesus and Marilyn are all smooshed together.

But Jesus Monroe showing up in the wallpaper wasn't the only miracle to occur in the conflagration. No way. No how. Jesus also performed another miracle by saving a rosary and a virgin Mary figurine from being totally destroyed in the fire.

See that? Jesus really does save, doesn't he? You know, JC, I think if you were going to save something, you might have started with I dunno...maybe the HOUSE? That'd be a good thing to save, wouldn't it, Jesus? Shouldn't HOUSE beat out rosary? And I know that Mary is your mother, but shouldn't a person's home be more important than a $12.99 likeness of your mama?

Eternally optimistic Christine said that the wallpaper rendering of JC was a sign that "no matter how bad it is I'm going to get through this." So Jesus let her house burn down so he could give her a sign to show her that she's a tough, little cookie who can handle bad stuff happening to her?

Oh dear. I guess I'd better say a little prayer.

Dear Jesus H. Christ,

Babs here. I just wanted to let you know that if you ever feel the need to send me a sign to reassure me that I have the strength to get through shitty - sorry - poopy times, please don't feel as though you need to resort to burning down my house. In fact, I'm saavy enough that a simple note from you will suffice, okay?

Hugs and Kisses and Amen.

PS - Tell your dad that I'm still pissed about the E-Z
Bake oven. He'll know what I mean.

Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who doesn't really do so well with the praying thing.

3-7-07

Reader Appreciation Day

I'll bet you guys didn't know it's Reader Appreciation Day, did you? Well, it may not be anywhere else, but it is here in Flumadiddle Land. Seriously, you don't know how much it means to me that you take the time to read my nonsense, and when you comment - well, it just blows me away. So, thank you from the bottom of my little heathenistic heart.

Talkin' With the Debil

Everyone, meet Sue. Sue likes sparkly things, bad graphics and she loves making web pages about Satan, Hell and Jesus. In fact, she has over 800 web pages about that magical trio. She sure loves her some Jesus. Almost as much as she enjoys telling everyone how they're going to end up all crispy while their burning in the Lake o' Fire. Sue is convinced that Satan is trying to ruin her ministry, and this is what she had this to say about it:

Satan has tried lightning, bullets, a poisonous snake, confusion in the list, backbiting, lying, and turning people away from helping the ministry

So, let me get this straight. Sue has had Satan zap her with a lightning bolt, shoot at her and sic a poisonous snake on her? Let this be a lesson to you, kids. Never, ever piss off the devil. He obviously holds a grudge.

But...confusion in the list? I thought I knew most of the Christian lingo, but I'm completely lost with this one. Does anyone have any idea what this means?

Sue has also had a conversation with Lucifer, via some poor possessed woman named Sam. And to take it to a whole new level of freaky, this conversation appears to have occurred in an instant message. Satan is "LowLife" and Sue is "RunsWithTheWind3". I really think Satan can come up with a better screen name than LowLife. Pyromaniac666 would be a good one. You can read the entire, captivating conversation here, but I've picked a few of the tastier tidbits from Sue's rap session with Beelzebub.

LowLife: no your bible is wrong.. i win.. i am god
RunsWithTheWind3: DREAM ON FOR AN ETERNITY IN HELL FIRE SCUM BAG
LowLife: i am messiah
RunsWithTheWind3: I REBUKE YOU IN JESUS NAME. YOU WERE PUT DOWN 2,000 YEARS AGO
LowLife: shut up

Shut up? Way to go all 5th grade on her ass, Beelz. Why didn't you just do the "I know you are, but what am I?" bit or "I am rubber, you are glue..."

LowLife: you mother fucker
RunsWithTheWind3: SWEARING SHOWS YOUR TRUE COLORS SATAN

Your true colors are beautiful like a rainbow. A dark, hellish, potty-mouthed rainbow. Wash his mouth out with soap, Sue. That'll teach 'im.

RunsWithTheWind3 : YOU SHALL NEVER HAVE ME
LowLife: call my name.. say it bitch

Oh my. I think someone just took a left turn into Kinkyville.

The good news is, Sue totally spanked Satan in this little debate. It ended with Satan saying this:

LowLife: nnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooo

Poor Satan. His debating skills are obviously lacking. I seriously think he would have done much better had he interjected an LOL or even a ROFLMAO.

Take Care,
Babs - who is sure Sue will be featured again.

We Are Family

I have been researching my family genealogy off and on for the past 10 years or so. More off than on. But recently, I've resurrected my interest in those who had a hand in getting me here, and I've come to a few conclusions.

Discovering my ancestors helps in making me feel that I once again have roots. After I decided that I didn't want anything to do with my parents- which led to the rest of the family disowning me (save two sisters and a brother), I really felt like I was all alone in this big, ol' scary world. My foundation, as shitty as it was, had vanished. So, finding all of these dead people has helped immensely in giving me some roots. I have roots, people. Old, dead roots.

I've also discovered why I have such a dark sense of humor. I have no choice. It's genetic. My ancestors had to develop a really sick sense of humor just to survive. I had a great-grandfather who offed himself with a shotgun, an uncle who died in a boiler accident and a great-great grandfather who croaked by choking on a piece of raisin pie. I'm sorry, Gramps, but that is just such an undignified way to go. I had an aunt who was a kleptomaniac, and a great-grandmother who was a call girl in a cat house. Grandma Floozy then went on to doctor a marriage certificate of the man she was living with by putting her name where his ex-wife's name was, so she could get his social security benefits. Most of the women in the family had their husband's die at an early age, and left them with a passel of kids to raise on their own. I'm not going to be surprised in the least bit when I find that they iced their husbands for no other reason than they couldn't help it because they all had the crazy blood in them. I'm still researching the death of another great-grandmother who either commited suicide by jumping off a bridge or was pushed off it by her son. And this is just on my mother's side, and I've only gone back a few generations. Sweet Fancy Moses, I have absolutely no chance of being sane.

The other night I found where someone had traced a line of my family way, way the heck back. I kept finding more and more generations and I was reading the dates out loud to Thomas. When I hit the 1600s he was all like, "Wow! That's really impressive". But, the farther back I went, the less enthusiastic his replies were. When I got back to Henry II, his response was down to an "Uh huh". But when I shouted out Valavarans of the Ostrogoths, he exploded with, "There's no fucking way. They're just making up shit, now. There's no way they can know that. I'm not going to believe they traced it all the way back to the Ostrogoths."

I think he had such a volatile response because a.) He's jealous that I'm Ostrogoth and he's not. And b.) He's scared that since I have Ostrogoth blood coursing through my veins I may bludgeon him in his sleep or something.

Take Care,
Babs of the Ostrogoths - I so love the way that sounds.

It's Playtime with Jesus!

Who wants a Jesus puppet? I know I do. In fact, I'll take a Jesus, Mary, Noah AND Peter. You can get them at Beuhlah Enterprises. Don't they all look so abnormally happy? And just look at Mama Mary being all risque and showing us a little ankle.

If puppets are too sissy for you, you can jump on over to Train up a Child, and grab hold of some Bible action figures. They're 6" tall, except for Goliath - he's huge. He's gotta be at least 63 feet or something. Each figure retails for $6.95. That's only a little over a dollar an inch. The best part is, if you don't hang with the notion that Jesus was a white boy, then you can get your action figures in "dark skin". That's right! You can opt for "dark skin" or "light skin". It's just like choosing which part of the chicken you want! .

Speaking of thighs and breasts, for those of you who want a more adult Christian toy, then head on over to My Beloved's Garden. It's a website for Christian sex toys. But, just so you won't waste time looking - there isn't one single Jesus dildo. They do, however, have a hands-free vibrator, which will allow you to read the bible while you're um...you know...being vibrated.

Also, if you browse the lingerie, try not to be put off that the scantily clad models have had their cleavage and belly buttons blurred out. Belly buttons are a no-no at My Beloved's Garden, but the Anal Invader® is a big yes, yes oh yes. I'm not so sure about the name of that product. I think they could have come up with something a little less "conquer and destroy" sounding.

Finally, if you're finding church a little boring, you should buy the remote-controlled vibrating panties. Now that'll make her shout hallelujah and amen!

Take Care,
Babs