I did my first half of college at a Jesuit University.

Not because I follow or followed a Christian religion, mind you, but because it was located in New Orleans – far away from home and where they serve minors. However, my second year found me living in a suite with a buncha zealots. And aside from parading crucifixes around our common area walls, they also made use of those typical passive aggressive inquiries that girls down south live and die by. Thus, my free-time during that painful point in college featured me trying to get a little privacy from sugar-coated judgment (while watching porn or sitcoms or downloading music illegally), as my roommates would intermittently come in to annoy me – asking things like why I never set foot in the gigantic chapel. Or why I never prayed.

Why I never did church events.

Why I never joined them to watch this show that they all were obsessed with:

7th heaven.



(These two characters are the only reason I didn’t unplug the T.V., bring it to the roof, and drop it onto the sorority girls below).

While I’m sure they all thought it was because I was some horrible hell bound heathen (we still haven’t ruled this out), I like to think that it’s because my sixth sense was set off straight away and years before by that creepy, hyper-blinking dude who played the Reverend. That and because all of the other actors with the exception of the dog and hot Jessica were pretty much unwatchable. I mean that part alone – that’s the whole irony of the show. I’m supposed to watch it and feel all spiritual and god infused, but the problem is that I start out feeling more spiritual probably than I do ten minutes into it when I’m being shown all of these how-did-you-even-get-cast overactresses with faces just begging to be punched. I don’t like to feel that way. It comes too easily on its own. I needn’t any help. So that’s one reason to have avoided it

Still, I mostly feel like that ESP center in my brain’s recesses instinctively knew…

Like – something was just… off about this dude.

And my senses also to me (obv.) that years later, an audio tape confession of him admitting it on a recording would surface so that I could tell the Jesus groupies who’d harassed me “See? I told you so! Everything you believe is a lie!! God is dead! Swallow your soul! I’ll swallow your soul!” #armyofdarknessanyone?

I digress.

Regardless of what you want to believe about my take on it, this shitty show seems to have turned into a shit show circus all at once – when some other actress on the series reportedly died that same day. At age 40? I mean, I didn’t believe this horse crap for one second – even before reading the quote from her family about how “She went to bed and never woke up”. Yeah. No. Homegirl did exactly what I would’ve done if I were her – staged her own death when she heard the guy that she worked with was a Chester.

Just like I never needed the university’s stained glass, robed men, or horrible T.V. shows playing on repeat to sell me a ubiquitous god that doesn’t need your effing titles and rules, I also didn’t need any extra info to believe the death part of this story was a pile of pies delivered straight from a dog’s anus to my brain. But the details do confirm my suspicions. I mean what husband on earth would issue a farewell tweet that’s this facepalmy?


Really?!

All this bullshit casserole’s missing is a peppering of #LOL and a sprinkle of #SorryBoutIt

Anyway, kids: Go with your gut like I did when I refused to watch this awful show. And if an adult with Bundy eyes tells you to touch something that lives behind their pant zipper, tell them to go get fccked. Preferably by someone who’s not 12.