Now I know some of you will probably faint dead away when I tell you this and have to be revived with smelling salts, but I go to church. It’s one of those happy, clappy guitars and pan pipes type scenes. Now, I don’t believe in God and I don’t believe in Jesus, or “Jeebus” as Sausage calls him, but it’s somewhere free to take the kids on a Sunday and even though the kids refuse to go to Sunday School because Scarlett says, “Don’t be funny mum, who’s going to believe that Jesus walked on water?” and Sausage won’t go to Sunday School because she “Doesn’t like Jeebus.” And I totally see their point—there is no way you can make kids believe something you don’t believe in yourself in the first place. I suppose I go to church because some of my friends go, but I’m not that keen on the pastor and things rather came to a head last Sunday.
I was sitting in the church bitching and moaning to Scarlett about all the things I didn’t like about the pastor. Well, I thought I was whispering, but people have told me that I have a voice that rather resembles a foghorn, so I don’t think I was that quiet. Of course, at the end of the service I realize that two pews back there is a camera and a huge fuck off microphone recording the service. Okay. So, I guess you could say, who the hell is going to watch himself on the video after each service? Is the pastor really going to watch it to check if his hair is properly styled or whether he has given ‘good mass?’ I fear this man may be such a type. Luckily even if he does hear me I can’t imagine he’d say anything to me. What I said wasn’t that bad. I think. I’d like to say he won’t be able to identify me but I am the only person there with an English accent.
Ho hum. I am thinking my best bet is to next week sit under the microphone and say, “Ooh, that Father John gives the best mass. I think about his sermons all week. He’s so spiritual and enlightened and I really think he has lifted me up to a higher place.”
Have you ever found yourself in the midst of a recording blunder like this and what did you do? Or what should I do? He now knows I am nothing but a two faced God-botherer.
By Emma Kaufmann, from Mommy Has a Headache
Originally Published on OffSprung
Photo courtesy of Offsprung