Don't go to church.
While I was living at my grandparent's house and bored as stuff because I did not have my computer, my grandmother extended the invitation to go to Sunday School to try and socialize me. I saw it as an opportunity to break into a religious girl's panties, and a way to entertain my muse of understanding Christians better so I can mock them on the Internet, and accepted.
Now, it might not seem like it, but I'm a very meek and modest human being. I speak softly and am nonbelligerent. I don't like upsetting others and I keep to myself.
Knowing this, you can understand how my grandmother introducing me and giving my cellphone number to every man, woman, child and domesticated animal on the church property so they can personally invite me with their pseudo-upbeat mannerisms to church events is a bit of a problem. I can't say no. I simply can't. I live in a society where not believing in their magic book and hocus pocus angsty miracle worker is tantamount to screaming the communist manifesto while doing a Mexican sombrero dance on top of a muddied american flag while torching a copy of the constitution on a Sunday with an Obama campaign t-shirt on. To let these really nice evangelicals know that someone who has become so integral in their church is nothing less than a far-left atheist would destroy a part of them.
On top of that, they always bait me in with food.
"Heeey Joshua, we just wanted to let you know that we're having a COOK-OUT on Sunday at noon. You'd be interested in coming, right?"
I go there because I can't say no. I want to say no. I've lost 10 pounds in February alone by simply detailing every calorie I shove into my mouth and I have no loving clue how much a BBQ Rib has in it and it TEARS AT MY SOUL to eat something I can't properly document when I get home.
Don't go to church.
