Yesterday I attended a ladies lunch in Sandy. The conversation ranged from drunken pilots to breast reduction surgery. We also talked about the end of the world as we delicately munched on our breadsticks.
I was informed that the end of the world is quickly approaching and in a few years I won’t even need to purchase life insurance because, as a sinner, I will just go up in a ball of flames with no need for a coffin or flower arrangement for the front of the church.
Later, while sitting on my couch of sin talking to Lucifer…I mean Alex… I decided that maybe I don’t want to join the Jesus party in heaven. If salvation requires me to try to function daily in a slightly suicidal Zoloft induced haze it’s not worth it…that shimmering halo isn’t worth playing the “I’m the prettiest/most spiritual/most humble/wealthiest” game every Sunday at 9am.
Alex comforted me by letting me know that when I am dropped into a boiling pit of magma I will most likely die from the fumes before I hit the scalding lava. And if I did reach the hotness it would only hurt for like a second or two… ten tops.
2 comments:
dude, why did I skip out on this one. Oh yes, I heard it rumored that it was because I was pregnant.
I was thinking "most likely die from the fumes before I hit the scalding lava" I think the order of things is that you die before going to hell. And really you can adapt and have a much higher pain tolorance than you think possible, I'll spare you examples you once deemed "ewwwwww".
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