about three weeks ago, the Wolf and i went out barhopping with some of his buddies from work. all very nice guys. a few devils and a boy-next-door, the Wolf and me. dressed to the nines and escorted by friendly fellas, i was completely ratted halfway through the night.

(and since i'm marrying into a British family, i feel strongly i should be up on my British slang and proper usage)

at the start of the evening at a church bazaar (bizarre?) i had seen a painting of Jesus on the cross looking totally ripped. at the time, i commented to Wolfie that there was no way a man who loved to sit around with his buds and drink wine had six-pack abs. the Wolf, in the way he always does at my precious eccentricities, smiled and laughed and was amused.

later in the evening, and many drinks later, the subject of Jesus came up. i asserted, loudly, that there was no way that Jesus had a six-pack. one of the gentlemen in our party seemed to be getting unnerved, according to the Wolf, as he was probably religious in an either closely held way or convenient way. either way, to shut me up, i was moved to the other side of the table and told to eat nachos while the Wolf went to fetch the car.

now i'm not trying to be irreverent. really. i'm not trying to say that Jesus wasn't in good shape. he might have liked to sit around drinking with his buddies and talking about anything and everything philosophical, but he also walked everywhere. so i think sure, JC was in great shape and in the prime of his life, of course, so no, he wouldn't have been sporting a beer gut up there on the cross. however, i seriously doubt there was that much definition.

something to think about.

"Does this tunic make me look hippy, Judas?"

oh yeah, i forgot about the part right before the nachos when i suggested that Jesus could have been a woman. free will rules, does it not?