Once upon a time, before I met Mr. Right (aka my soulmate, my husband), I would go out to clubs with my friends. I would be given phone numbers. The gentlemen who gave me their phone numbers wanted me to call them, and occasionally I did just that. But since I absolutely HATE talking on the phone, most of the phone numbers ended up in the bottom of whatever black hole was my purse at the time, where they were completely forgotten. Don't judge! I was a busy woman at that time, living my single life and acquiring cats. Plus, I just hate talking on the phone. Did I mention that I hate talking on the phone?
The first paper that I found was a local number, but the name written on there, in block letters, was "Christ". I stared at it for a good long time. Why would Christ give me his phone number? As the Son of God, He probably has more effective means of communicating, wouldn't you think? I would remember seeing Christ if I actually met Him on this earthly plane, considering I see pictures of Him all over the place. It's not likely that the Redeemer would be able to walk into the Sac'n'Pac without getting recognized, you know. Not even Elvis can do that. Did Christ buy me a beer when I was downtown?. If so, did He make it Himself? That would have been an awesome beer.
The second number that I found was an Austin number. The name attached to that number was 'Buddha'. Buddha? Where on earth would I meet Buddha? Isn't he a vegetarian--what would he be doing in this state? San Antonio is a hardcore Catholic town. I could see the Buddha living in Austin, however. Did I get this number when I was in my two-stepping phase, or the headbanger phase? The Buddha does not frequent country-western dance halls, so it must have been during my headbanger phase. I am trying to picture the Buddha in a mosh pit, and surprisingly, it fits. The Buddha would totally dominate a mosh pit!
As long as he didn't try to body surf.