Put on your Sunday best!

That's right, I am going to Church this Sunday.

I'll give you time to get back into your chair and have your breathing return to normal.

Now, I am not a religious person -- I'm sure many of you can attest to that. And I took a religious studies course in college, I know what this Catholicism is all about...But to be perfectly frank, it's bullshit. At least to me it is. I'm sorry if I'm offending anyone who's completely "Gung-Ho!" about Jesus. And this is far more offensive than my blog about Crocs, yet someone still felt the need to comment about how much they hate me because of my views on those hideous things. So I'm sure someone will post about how I'm going to burn in Hell and God will spit on my carcass, and all that jazz. Boo fucking hoo, cry me a river, build me a bridge and get over it.

Believe it or not, I'm going for my Grammy. My little 84-year-old, speaks-with-an-English-accent-even-though-she-grew-up-in-Danvers-Massachusetts, Grammy. She goes to Mass god only knows how many times during the week. I remember when I was a kid, whenever we spent the weekend at my Grammy's house, she would make us go to church. At the time, I had no idea what was going on, I was just grateful for the fact that she kept candy in her purse which she would continuously feed to me throughout the Mass so I would shut up. Clearly, none of what was actually going on during Mass sunk into my brain, but it was a nice effort. Also, I ended up going to the local Unitarian church in my hometown with my former friend, where they would make us sit in a circle and have us pass a little candle and "share our feelings". Excuse me? This was like another planet to me. Even at the age of 12, I wasn't falling for that shit. Take your little candle, and your crunchy granola, and your "I love the world" attitude and get the fuck out of my face.

To be perfectly honest, I can't remember the last time I've set foot in an actual church. The last time I was around anything spiritual was at my Uncle Danny's burial, and even then, the Priest who was giving the reading looked at me and knew that I didn't belong there. Part of that was because of all the visible tattoos...the other, the fact that while everyone was reciting "Our Father", I was staring at the group of geese who happened to be much more interesting at the time. Suppressing the urge to honk during that solemn time was one of the best challenges I've ever had.

But anyways, the reason I'm going to church for my Grammy, is that she's winning an award. The first of it's kind apparently, for doing good deeds and being awesome in general. But the best part about all this, is the fact that it's being presented to her by...the fucking Cardinal. Yup. Cardinal Sean P. O' Malley will be presenting my Grammy this award. And it's not it's own ceremony...it is during the Sunday Mass. I don't know exactly why I find this so humorous...but I totally do. It just seems ironic that I've loathed the Catholic church for YEARS, and now the one fucking time I'm going...the damn Cardinal will be there. I keep having this feeling that I'm going to set one foot in this church in South Boston and burn right there on site. I also have to think about what I'm going to wear. At first, I wanted to wear a cute little black dress, with fishnets and my high heels. If I'm going to go to church and not fit in, why not go all the way with it! But after some careful consideration...and my father's other worldly advice, I've decided I should probably cover up the tattoos and wear something...more tasteful. Gross.

So if you hear about some crazy, ranting, lunatic here in Boston this Sunday, it's only me -- starting a riot at church. No big deal. LONG LIVE THE GAYS!