Ah, Lent!

Once a year, there is a magical time when well-meaning people deprive themselves of things that they enjoy in an effort to feel closer with the Almighty. This is known in most circles as getting up out of bed early on a Sunday morning and going to church on Easter Sunday, because we all know that God's only really watching that Sunday anyways. Every other Sunday He just catches the reruns.

I kid. He's watching you now and taking notes.

But seriously, with Lenten season running down, let me be the first to say that I just simply cannot wait until Sunday when I can go back to the thing I gave up for Lent: clubbing baby seals. Of course, by "clubbing baby seals," I mean drinking sugary soda. I sometimes question the correlation between fizzy sugar water and love from the Almighty, but it is at those times that I quietly pat myself on the back, and say, in soothing tones, "Shush, shush, it'll all be okay."

This brings me to my real topic of the day: my girlfriend. You see, a few weeks ago, my girlfriend did something that was actually quite loving. She bought a six pack of my very favorite specialty soda, Henry Weinhardt's Orange Cream, and said that I could have one when I came over for dinner. In my excitment over the prospect of something so delicious entering my gullet, I hopped in my vehicle, and hurriedly made my way over to said girlfriend's house. It was only once I reached her domecile that I realized that it was still Lent, and that there was to be no joy in Mudville that day. Well, at least not any joy that came from a sweet tasting nectar of the gods.

Mmm. Sunday's going to be delicious.