DO EEEEEEET.

*flails and flails and flails and flails*

CURSE YOU TUESDAY FOR BEING A WORK-DAY. And I have to run up to IUP after work to talk to a professor about PhD applications and get a cold, hard, honest, answer about whether or not she thinks I stand a snowball's chance in hell at getting into WMU. SO. I'm not going to be home until at least seven tonight.

But this? Right here? Will give me warm and fuzzies for the entire day. I'm totally sitting here copypasta-ing prompts that make me go O.O to stealthily work on when I'm supposed to be pretending to work on spreadsheets.

Adulthood: Doing it Wrong Since 2005

Catholicism for Dummies

Owen is Catholic. I found this insanely attractive when we first started dating because it was exotic and he went to a private school and wore a blazer and kept a Saint Christopher medal in his car. He knows how to pray in Latin and he lights candles at church when people are sick and his grandparents have a picture of him in full altar boy attire on the wall above their sofa. He knows the differences between Benedictine and Jesuit monks and rolls his eyes when I ask him for the eight thousandth time to explain them because I find his big, sexy, Catholic brain to be big and sexy

Ok. So I have a Catholic kink. Whatever. I was raised Baptist and aside from the fact that we had a rock band lead the hymns every Sunday, it was pretty much a suckfest. Lots of fire and brimstone. By the time I was nine, I was sneaking up to the balcony so I could hide Goosebumps books in my hymnal without an old lady wacking me with a bible.

I usually "play Catholic" out of solidarity towards Owen and because it makes his family happy to think that I'm not a total heathen.

Totally forgot that it's Lent. I was going to make chicken n' dumplings for Supernatural-fest on Friday, was telling Owen all about it, invited him over for dinner because he's all about chicken n' dumplings.

A few years ago, when Owen was still in school in Cleveland, I visited for the weekend and refused to let him cheat on Lent and hit up a Wendy's before we went to a party at the Hamster Cage.

He is finding revenge to be sweet:

"Now who's the bad Catholic, huh?"

"WHATEVER. I'M NOT REALLY CATHOLIC. I COULD EAT CHICKEN ON FRIDAY AND JESUS WILL STILL LOVE ME."

"No he won't. Baptist. I mean, at least the Lutherans are like, distant cousins. You guys just ran completely off the reservation."

"What if I use tofu-chicken breasts? Does it still count because it tastes like chicken?"

"It's all fun and games until my little heathen wants to eat chicken on a Friday."