I always considered being a pastor. I know for sure my parents would be right on board with it if I told them I wanted to go into seminary. I thought about it plenty of times. I mean I love God and I love talking about God so why not talk about him to a huge group of people? Then I started to realize who I was. I realized I would be a terrible pastor. I’d go up on stage in sweats and hoodie, take a sip of my coffee and start off the worship like this, “Dear Heavenly Father, why in your good name did you let people start church at this ratchet ass hour? Seriously though? Why can’t we worship at like 4 or something? I ain’t awake for this. Anyways, bless you and this church, amen.” Then I would take a few more sips of my coffee and start my sermon. My sermon would consist of a lot of sass, a few cuss words and a rant about how annoying it is to turn the pages of a bible because the pages are so damn thin and I would be looking for a verse and everyone else would already be there waiting patiently while my chunky fingers and the pages have a tiny WWF match going on at the podium and I’m laughing awkwardly saying “Great day. Weather seems to be looking good. I like your hair, Mark, did you do something different? How’s the baby doing, Cindy?” Then I’d finally get to the page and start reading and about 30 minutes would’ve already passed and more than half of the back pew would be fast asleep. Reasons why being a pastor is a bad idea. Also with the cussing, I mean God never said anything about cussing, he just said to not cuss his name. I would never curse his name. I would be like “And Jesus said to the people of Nazareth, “Y’all need to recognize, I am the Son of God and I ain’t going nowhere, Romans. WATCH ME HEAL THIS BLIND MAN. BOOM! Hella tight. Jesus out.”” I would go straight to Hell. As I was giving that sermon, the ground would open up and Hell would devour me. nom nom noms. But I would like to think God has a sense of humor, he made me, didn’t he?