In which I blame the Bloggess for my eternal damnation

So, yeah, I've kind of been on a weird slant lately, with the chocolate Jesi. "Out of control" may be a more accurate description. Facebook, Twitter, here. Wow, it's been a little crazy. Like on FB? A friend of mine was all, "Indeed" (as in the "Lord is Risen, He is Risen Indeed") and I'm all, "Chocolate crosses for everyone!"

And the only thing I have to say for myself is that The Bloggess made me do it. I discovered her a couple of weeks ago on Twitter and spent this weekend reading her entire archive. The ENTIRE archive. You can say it, I'm Bloggsessed, which should totally be a word in the Urban Dictionary about reading archived Bloggess posts until your children give up and start getting their own waffles out of the freezer. And then I could be as cool as The Bloggess, she of Kawasakied fame.

Except I could never be that cool. I mean, the ninjas? The zombies? WOLVERINES?
But it's like she's in my brain now. And I'm suddenly afraid of dead bodies on toilets. And I want a pet chicken. And my mind, it's kind of wacked.

So that's why I blasphemed the Resurrection by complaining that there weren't enough crucifixion-themed Easter treats. And that's why I'm going to hell. The Bloggess made me do it.

(Except that this conversation totally really happened.)