Dopey dog face

St. Regis required me to take a test prior to "being selected" to enter their kindergarten program. My minor speech problem was a problem. I liked to pronounce d words with the letter b. So drink would be brink. The tester wanted me to say this word from a flash card and I said it three times and the nun was like "no." And even as a five-year-old I was a savage. I waived my hand at her like an old-school Sicilian goumba and was like, "It's a brink, a brink." I recall it like a bitch slap. I was like, "you know what I mean stupid." They let me in the school, despite my speech problems. My sister went there. She was entering second grade.

My first year of kindergarten sucked my asshole and could be the reason why I have avoided full-time work for the past two years. I never wanted to go to kindergarten. My mom had to bribe me with a My Little Pony to go the doctor to sit for the required shots. School is like a kennel, you need shots before you can hang with the other dogs. I never enjoyed the doctor too much. Stripping down to my white, cotton, ruffled-leg underwear just made me feel like a creeper. The doctor would make me do that and push on my stomach. Check-ups were perverted. I can still recollect the feeling of sitting in the waiting room. The pediatrician's husband was a butt doctor so the seats were extra cushioned. I squirmed in the chair, while glancing at Highlights and sobbing. Once it was my turn, I got to get stabbed with a needle and then the doctor would draw some dopey dog face with her pen on the spot, as if that would make it all better. I raped the prize drawer at the end of the visit.

During my first year of kindergarten I missed many days. I would refuse to go. I just wanted to stay home with my mom. She would let me a lot of the times. But one time she got all pissed that she had to pick me up from school for no reason. She made me stay in my bed all day and all day I just transformed cartoons from the funny section with silly putty onto paper.

Nun

I never grew up with an actual occupation that I wanted to be. I lied in kindergarten when asked the question, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" I wrote it on this craft they had us make and mine said, "nurse." I always hated it because even at five, I knew I was just picking because I they told me to pick an occupation. My grandma was a nurse and that is why I picked the occupation. I never daydreamed of being anything except a a slutty housekeeper. This was not an occupation I could put on my craft project at St. Regis.

There was one time, early in high school, I thought I received this calling to be a nun. It was this vision in the traffic light while my mom was being pulled over by a cop. The light just kept saying, "nun, nun, nun." I dismissed the thought quickly, believing that my Catholic school upbringing had me fascinated and rejected by the thoughts of nuns. There was so much formative training about the sacraments that I'm slightly perturbed by children I meet in my area that don't know what sacraments are... Ever since kindergarten, I always had a convent and church and rectory and a school. And this whole whacked religious world. And these color me Jesus homework assignments or anxiety dreams about All Saints Day. Or even anxiety dreams that Jesus was going to come in my sleep and murder me. I also feared the the Colonel Sanders from KFC would murder me. On Christmas eve my mom would make me and my sister sleep in the same room and Nicole would look down at me on my bottom trumble bed and tell me I was going to get mashed my metal and that Santa was going to murder me in my bed. Christmas morning could not come soon enough.

Back to the nun calling though. This could not be an option for me. For one, most of the nuns I dealt with in life were complete assholes. Second, having metaphorical sex with Jesus was not my thing. Third, I don't really ever want to live with a bunch of women who are not getting laid and sharing Father's Day cake with Monsignor once a year. Did anyone see that Father's Day commercial for Carvel?

I am virtually obsessed with the Catholic faith though.

I am 26 years-old. I just blessed my apartment like a cathedral.

I can sing over 123 church hymns at random.