I could too be a mutherfucking minister (of awesome)

So this guy I know packs a dorky brown bag lunch and rides rainbows to divinity school everyday, which prompted a conversation about how shocked everyone is that HE goes to school to preach to the world about Jesus. Because really, this dude is a ridiculous human being, the closest thing to a caricature of a person as possible. He has creepy large features, bad hair and blurts words out in a manner that leaves you wondering if he has turrets or if he just makes no sense. But no matter how much I make fun of him, it won’t change where the topic went next.

A friend of mine abruptly changed the course of conversation, by saying, “I don’t think it’s that weird, it’s not as though Kelly is going to divinity school. Now that would be unbelievable.”

And then everybody laughed. Har har har. Kelly hates Jesus. She eats kittens and bathes herself in virgins’ blood (I wish!).

Now, I know that people probably think this because I superimpose my face over Jesus riding a dinosaur and laugh hysterically about it for weeks. And I tend to say sarcastic prayers like, “Dear baby Jesus, please don’t give me herpes.” And I put up blog posts about evangelical dinosaurs drowning in Noah’s flood. And I call the bus the Jew bus. And I physically cringe when someone suggests attending church. Unless of course it’s a Pentecostal church. I’ll be the first in line for that shitshow! I’d also probably throw my hands in the air and run around screaming in tounges. That sounds awesome. I’ll bring the beer and the video camera people!

But these things don’t mean that holding a cross up to me and chanting the Lord’s prayer will fend me off or that holy water will burn holes in my skin. Sorry guys. Although that would be a pretty amazing talent.

Rather, I think I would make an awesome minister. I’m like really good at telling people what to do and then attributing it to a higher power. Of course, that higher power could be in cohorts with the massive amounts of drugs and alcohol I grinded up in their dinner, but they still believe jumping into a fountain with all their clothes is a great idea. And I say, “You’re not wet, are you going to believe what you see or what I tell you!”

Faith. I call that Faith. And that doesn’t make me a bad person. It makes me a minister of awesome. And I don’t even have to go to school for that because I wrote the book.

- k.hel.