Saturday, May 27, 2006


Dad: You need to know that I've been elected to consistory again.

Me: In that case, I should probably tell you that I'm pregnant. . . . Will that get you un-elected?

Dad: It's too late. I already told them I was committing random arson, having an affair, kicking puppies, and stealing from the offering. And they picked me anyway.

* * *

For those of you who don't know - The Consistory is the boys club that supposedly runs a church. (Imagine the worst of religion and the worst of politics morphing together into a mass of late-night meetings, headaches, agruments, ulcers, and other bad things). It's tough on Dear 'ole Dad, as well as his family.

Also, those of you who aren't used to Julie/Dad humor should know that I'm not pregnant. (Unless of course you are a member of Dear 'ole Dad's church - in which case I'm a pregnant, crack addicted, athiest, who helps my father in his orphan-thieving, puppy-kicking adventures).

* * *

This is where I ought to insert a nice descriptive editorial so you all know how I really feel about church governance.
Alas, it's already past my bedtime,
And I'm rather tired.
Dear readers, consider yourself spared!