And to celebrate my finishing of class for the next few months, I won a little at poker and went out withDave to get drunk. Every once in a while it's necessary to remind yourself what it feels like to get really drunk. And then sick. And then... hungover.
I was telling Chase earlier about how today was one of those days that St. Peter is going to refer to when I'm standing at the Pearly Gates.
Me: Wow, so this is heaven!
St. Peter: Don't get attached. I've got somethings I want to go over with you... some sins.
Me: Ok, certainly. I tried to lead my life the best I could...
StP: Ok, first: You gratified yourself sexually eleven billion times. Second, you never apologized for that time that Chase got blamed for farting and it was actually you. And finally, all of those nights that you spent drinking and smoking-- we can forgive those-- but that added sloth on the following day. Like... May 31, 2006, for example. When you skipped dinner with Marit and biking with Chase just to sleep on the couch! Do you have anything to say for yourself?
Me: I'm sorry? I mean, Dave got me wasted at Bifteck. I was just so happy to be FREE-- and enjoying summer. I was trying to make up for an entire stressful, awful, miserable month in ONE night. Actually, in one last-call round of whisky. I know it wasn't a good idea, but then I got to pay for it by being sick all day.
StP: Well... that makes your purgatory total through to the next million years. Good luck. And god bless.
Me: But wasn't I fated to act that way? How can you hold it against me when it was God's choice and will?
StP: God gives you freewill.
Me: But he's omniscient. He knew that I was going to choose wrong and left me to this? That doesn't seem fair. He creates me with the fate that I'm going to fail and then punishes me for it. That's crap. Let me speak to God.
