…and you thought your life was exciting!

Counting Bra Straps in Church Because I Can

with 6 comments


I was walking along some downtown avenue
I was whistling a new song to myself
And it went, it went something like this one
But I just couldn’t make it end

– “Hearts of Oak” by Ted Leo and the Pharmacists

Written by Paul

December 24, 2008 at 9:54 pm

6 Responses

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  1. I bet there were quite a few at my church also, but we sit all the way in the front (thanks, dad) so I don’t get to play fun games. 😉

    I don’t really remember what happened christmas eve–egg nog, christmas traditions, and OH YEAH…

    I helped my parents put the presents around the tree….



    February 16, 2009 at 10:08 pm

  2. We used to try and open the hymnal to the next with the fewest tries – even my dad would play if it was a particularly boring sermon. Mom was always mortified (not really – well, not always. Sometimes she was amused – but always took the role of dignfied member of the family anyway)

    counting bra straps is generic and beats pining away for Vanessa Wolfe and struggling to get a peak at her – and wishing I’d got to see her bra straps!

    Scott A

    February 16, 2009 at 11:34 pm

  3. Let’s count more at Easter.


    February 17, 2009 at 12:26 am

  4. Oh yeah. Sounds like you were really listening…


    February 17, 2009 at 10:19 am

  5. at least mine weren’t showing!


    February 17, 2009 at 10:47 am

  6. This is how I finally got out of going to church when I was a teenager (not counting bra straps specifically – but the same idea) I used to draw and fidget and do anything but pay attention because I hated going…and didn’t think the church we were going to was something I honestly believed in, and I used to get hell from my parents – but they didn’t really seem to be paying much attention either.

    So one day I really listened, I paid attention to the whole sermon and really honestly didn’t agree with what was being said and tried to discuss it with my dad afterwards. It was clear in that discussion that he hadn’t listened to a word of it. And at the end of the conversation I said to him, “so we both know that I’m not coming here anymore, right?” and he was all “fine.”

    And that was the end of me and organized religion. It was one of my finest teenage moments (there weren’t many).


    February 17, 2009 at 2:09 pm

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