Now I’m even being spammed by God.

I will never again refer to Easter – even just in my own thoughts – as “the day the Holy Bunny pooped colored eggs and then died for our sins.”

Ever.
Promise.

It’s entirely possible there was some “name in vain” action last week when I saw that flock of free range geezers in speedos at the Y, but I think even the Pope would grant me dispensation for that. Gads.

I’m going back to bed. Wake me when it’s Wednesday.

Please clap.
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