Shitballs, they sniffed me out!

[I thought that the innernets ate this. Bless you, Blogger Drafts, BLESS YOU MY CHILD!!!!!!!!]

I'm not a religious person and that's fine. If you are a religious person, that's fine. If you float somewhere in the middle, that's fine. If you worship Satan, that's fine. If you go to temple every Friday, that's fine. If Ganesh is your thing, that's fine. You get the point. However, much like I don't try to convert YOU to my brand of non-religiousness, I would appreciate it if you didn't try to convert me to whatever or whomever you believe. And, I get mad when you don't get the hint. I get mad when you keep trying to push the issue. I get really mad.

With that, a whole swarm of some type of Bible study people walked in here. That's great that you are using the library!

What's not so great? That that all keep glaring at me.

Why are these gifts from God glaring at me? Because I had to ask one particular fellow, in his mid to late 20s, to clarify something for me. Shameful me hadn't heard of a Shewbread Table and had to ask how to spell it. It's funny, because before I had to ask for this clarification, he basically asked me out:
Him: Wha, wha, whaaaaa, what are you, do-do-doing after work?
Me: Going home and eating dinner with my husband.

First of all, if you are going to ask me out, let me point out the obvious: You need to be at LEAST five steps above my current spouse before I even think of running into the sunset with you. The follow is a list that helps you determine if you are at least five steps above the grade of my current spouse (in no particular order):
1. You need to be making at least six figures.
2. You need to have all of your teeth.
3. Hair. If you have it, it better be clean. If you don't, you better be sportin' some Yule Brenner mojo.
4. Grammar. Enough said.
5. You need to have a car, no arrests, and no warrants for your arrest.
6. You better not be part of some freaky cult that wants a full quiver, cuz that shit ain't happening.


Apparently, since I am not eating dinner at a Shewbread Table, I am out of the running for potential candidates he can date. Although, maybe not, maybe I am the ultimate challenge. I'm sure my marriage to my heathen husband has nothing to do with it in his eyes, since, if I married a 'sinner' and this Shewbread Guy can convert me, then I would be saved and his in the eyes of God.

Thankfully, work is almost over and provided that these lovely disciples of Christ don't try to abduct me in the parking lot, I can go home to my heathen ways.

But, seriously, they can stop staring at me. If I wasn't at work, I'd whisper to them: God wants you to stop glaring at me.