I’m Concerned My Cult Isn’t Sacrificing Enough Virgins
None of my fellow parishioners have invited me to partake in a communal sexual ritual to awaken the dead, or place a hex on targeted politicians.
Aspiring writer. Occasional improv/standup. Consistent hot mess. Living the GING (gay, inebriated, negative, ginger) life since 1992.
None of my fellow parishioners have invited me to partake in a communal sexual ritual to awaken the dead, or place a hex on targeted politicians.
Can I please just host this disco sex party in peace, without the dread of a Grindr message like, "Is there a face to go with your torso?"
Waking up handcuffed to a deck chair and duck taped to the point of suffocation was exactly what my girlfriend and I needed to stop fighting.
I wonder if my indoor sunglasses and the giant jug of orange juice betray my hangover? The glare from Sister Beatrice indicates yes.
Every so often, abused dogs invade your television screen soundtracked by Sarah McLachlan's ubiquitous "In the Arms of an Angel." These are their stories.