Well tomorrow is Good Friday and stranger than strange, my company gives everyone the day off. I grew up in The Most Catholic Family, Ever (yes it deserves capital letters) and when we were kids we got Good Friday off too, but not “goodie, we’re off for Good Friday!” but “Oh no, it’s Good Friday.” Our parents expected us to mope around the house and grieve for Jesus, imagining what he went through. We went to Mass for something like sixty-seven hours and they read detailed descriptions of Jesus’ beatings and humiliations. We were expected to whip our heads back and forth with each crack of the whip on Jesus’ back. Ok I made that last part up but shit! we might as well have. It really took all the fun out of Easter. Then there was the whole Easter Mass (Glory! Glory Hallelujah!) where all the lapsed Catholics showed up for Mass (why do you do that, lapsed Catholics?) so the church was extra-crowded, and I would get hot and feel like passing out. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the church with all those people, flowers and HATS! Finally afterwards we could go home and eat a hollow bunny. Big shit. It wasn’t worth it! I was always relieved when Easter was over and we just had to get through regular Mass every week. Oh Holy Mary Mother of God am I glad to be a recovering Catholic! A-MEN!