Ahhhhhhhhhhh........Just Went to Confession

[Warrior102]

I promise to be nice to the Commies - at least thru post-Easter.

Thanks.

Enjoy your Easter - !!!!!

 

[Big Black Dog]

I went to confession once... The priest fainted.

 

[California Girl]

I went to confession... asked the priest 'is calling stupid people stupid a sin'. He said 'no'. Can't tell y'all how relieved I was.

 

[syrenn]

I went to confession once... The priest fainted.

I never made it...i burst into flames on the way over the threshold. Even the holy water wouldn't put the fire out.

 

[syrenn]

I went to confession... asked the priest 'is calling stupid people stupid a sin'. He said 'no'. Can't tell y'all how relieved I was.

you would be paying up for that sin for the rest of your life....

 

[laughinReaper]

I confess I like sex,beer and sandwiches

 

[Douger]

I confess I like sex,beer and sandwiches

No pizza ? You certainly aren't a "good" Catholic.

 

[hjmick]

Good for the soul they say...

If you believe in that stuff...

 

[Si modo]

As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.

But, alas, no escape.

We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.

I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.

Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.

Breathe in for five, out for five.

I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.

I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.

I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.

Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.

Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.

My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.

My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................

It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.

Thankfully, I pass out.

The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.












Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.

 

[syrenn]

As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.

But, alas, no escape.

We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.

I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.

Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.

Breathe in for five, out for five.

I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.

I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.

I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.

Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.

Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.

My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.

My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................

It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.

Thankfully, I pass out.

The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.












Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.

You burst into flame too huh?

 

[Si modo]

As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.

But, alas, no escape.

We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.

I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.

Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.

Breathe in for five, out for five.

I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.

I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.

I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.

Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.

Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.

My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.

My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................

It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.

Thankfully, I pass out.

The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.












Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.

You burst into flame too huh?

You too, huh?

The problem with me going to church is that God will actually know where I am and I make an easy target.

(Been hiding out for a while and so far so good.)

 

[syrenn]

As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.

But, alas, no escape.

We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.

I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.

Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.

Breathe in for five, out for five.

I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.

I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.

I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.

Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.

Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.

My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.

My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................

It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.

Thankfully, I pass out.

The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.












Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.

You burst into flame too huh?

You too, huh?

The problem with me going to church is that God will actually know where I am and I make an easy target.

(Been hiding out for a while and so far so good.)

my first post in the thread... lol.

 

[California Girl]

As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.

But, alas, no escape.

We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.

I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.

Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.

Breathe in for five, out for five.

I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.

I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.

I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.

Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.

Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.

My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.

My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................

It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.

Thankfully, I pass out.

The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.












Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.

You are such a drama queen, modo.

 

[Si modo]

As I get closer and closer to the church, my anxiety increases exponentially. Then I start screaming bloody murder, as if in the greatest pain you can imagine and as if terrified of the most horrible monster. Then I start scratching on the inside of the car windows - hoping in some desperate way that, even if I wear my fingers raw, I WILL escape.

But, alas, no escape.

We park, and as long as I keep my eyes on the floor of the car, studying every individual fiber of the car carpeting, I can compose myself enough to pull the latch to the car door.

I hear the latch; my anxiety rises again, but I can still open the door.

Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of five. Don't move a muscle, now. Focus.

Breathe in for five, out for five.

I can move again. I swing my legs out, still keeping my eyes on the ground.

I tell myself to study each stone in the asphalt. It works.

I'm led carefully, slowly but steadily to the church entrance.

Breathe. I can make it, I tell myself.

Then, out of some ingrained habit, I automatically reach for the holy water. I'm too focused on the floor tiles to think, and habit sets in.

My hand goes into the holy water while I study the mortar between tiles. It could be cleaner, I think.

My hand then touches my forehead and the pain.................

It burns! It burns! I scream again and again.

Thankfully, I pass out.

The next thing I know, I wake up in the hospital ER, apparently airlifted out with third degree burns on my hand and forehead.












Anyway, I digress. Nope, didn't make it to confession today.

You are such a drama queen, modo.

What? You don't believe me?????

 

[Douger]

I promise to be nice to the Commies - at least thru post-Easter.

Thanks.

Enjoy your Easter - !!!!!

You too nitwit.
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