I has a somewhat surreal experience at the local 7-11 this Sunday. Flander performed at a concert in West Palm and we made a quick stop at 7-11 for gas and drinks before hitting the expressay. So I go in and get his requested V-8 (ick), and proceed to the register. Now, as I mentioned, we are going to a concert, and I was dressed for the occasion. I had on ripped capri jeans, a pink wife beater, and some cute dangly earrings. Back to the 7-11. I get to the counter and put my purchases down as the guy behind the counter decides to initiate small talk:
*Parenthesis = thoughts
7-11: So did you just get out of church?
OhFace: (Do I look like I just got out of church! :dubious: ) No.
(I have no interest in persuing this conversation I just want to pay for my V-8 and go, thank you.)
7-11: It’s Sunday, don’t you go to church on Sunday?
OhFace: No.
7-11: Oh so you only go sometimes then huh?
OhFace: No.
7-11: (Obviously not getting the hint from my one word answers, and rining up my drinks and an amazingly slow pace.) What do you mean you don’t go to church?!
OhFace: I’m not Christian.
7-11: Oh what are you, Jewish?
OhFace: No.
7-11: Muslim? Buddhist?
OhFace: No. No. I’m agnostic.
7-11: Oh so you don’t believe in God then?
OhFace: That’s not what I said.
7-11: So what’s that mean then?
OhFace: (By now very irritated and shocked by this man’s questions, and just wanting to get the heck out of there, not give a religion lesson.) I belive what I want to believe.
7-11: Oh, so then you’re just waiting until the last minute to belive in God then… :mad:
OhFace: (Gets the hell out of there, and tells Flander about this presumptuous jerk.)
I’ve never had such a lecture on religion before. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, it was pretty surreal. So, has anyone else had any such encounters other than the occasional (or recurring, never ending) witnesses knocking on your door?
What’s wrong with V-8?
LOL, I can’t stand tomato juice, or even cooked tomatoes. Give em to me raw, or not at all!
I like V-8. It can be a bit salty, but in my opinion, there’s nothing better for a hangover than a V-8.
At least you could escape. Imagine the terror when the guy next to you in a DC-10 for a 5-1/2 hour flight to Chicago turns to you and says, “Have you been saved?”
I was once in line at KMart when the woman behind me told me I was the devil’s plaything. I never did figure that one out.
At least your plane landed. Imagine the stomach-turning horror of being greeted by your roommate first day of freshman year: “Hi. I’m Danny. Have you accepted Christ as your personal saviour?”
I have them all the time. Glasses of V-8, that is.
I mix the regular V-8 with the low-sodium. Perfect, even when you don’t have a hangover.
I refer you to my current thread in the pit.
You can also add a couple of drops of Tabasco or some other hot sauce to the low sodium V8. I tried the spicy V8 but didn’t like it…both it and the regular kind taste too salty to me.
As to the OP I wonder if the guy was the manager or owner of the store, or has their permission to preach to the customers?
You poor thing. And I think I have been addled by the jet age. The incident happened in the mid 1950’s and the plane was actually a propellor driven DC-6.
“Yes. Let us never speak of it again.”
At least you got to get rid of him after freshman year. My grandmother was a fundie, and she lived with us for fifteen years. I’m still scarred from the descriptions of God destroying the earth by fire (we would be okay, though, because we loved Jesus) and the book she gave me that had pictures of people burning in Hell.
That was the one right after, ‘Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret?’, right?
As a cashier, I’ve actually had peopel prosletyze to me while at work. Can you imagine how hard it is to get people to understand the inapropriateness of soliciting someone while they can’t get away because they work there?
Additionally, I’ve had plenty of people come up and ask questions. I tend to try to ignore their “so, what’s your religion?” question for a few minutes in favor of talking about the virtues I believe a good person should have before I let loose and mention that I’m not Christian. The especially creepy remembrance of those conversations was with this guy from the Catholic student union who looked a little bit too much like my psycho ex.
At least you were done with it after 15 years. I’m almost 22 and have lived with my mom who’s pretty much a fundie my entire life.
Thankfully I’m almost out of here.
At least you’re able to move out. I’m serving a life sentence and my cellmate is an avid fundie. Imagine being brutally raped each night by someone preaching to you about the gospel of Jesus. I wish I got the death penalty.
At least your mother cares. My mother asks me with tears in her eyes how will she ever manage to convert my father, so that he can go to Heaven with her when he dies, if he would just accept Jesus into his heart.
But… but… but…!
What about me? She doesn’t even try to save me… sniffle
You’re lucky. My siamese twin is a fundie and he controls both my legs and one arm. I’ve got the penis, though.