Monday, July 14, 2008

Don't drink the Koolaid

This last week, I dragged The Guy with me up north to my church's semi-annual gathering. It's basically a church retreat where we go to church, play sports and otherwise get together with friends from across Western Canada. The Guy had never been there before and was not overly looking forward to getting to know 500 of my closest friends and distant relatives.

As we were driving up, The Guy asked about the retreat and what he could expect. I was trying to think of something he could relate to and my mind immediately went to football. Of course, I didn't tell him that. I said "It's like training camp." Long pause.

In my head, this made perfect sense. It's like the Riders getting together once a year or so to find out where everyone is at and what needs to be worked on. However, since I didn't mention football out loud, The Guy immediately thought I was dragging him to a place which would teach him about semi-automatics and hand grenades.

I tried to explain, but only made it worse when I mentioned "the brethren" (what we refer to the travelling ministers who travel all over the world preaching). The Guy's only response was to joke "You're taking me to a cult aren't you? I am never going to see my family again!" I agreed and told him he couldn't get out of it now. He paused thoughtfully and said, "I wonder if it will count if I send my will by text message?"


  1. He has his moments. He did make it home again though, so his panic was unnecessary.


Crap monkies say "what?"