Sure. What better way to practice my faith in the Blessed Undead Bunny who sacrificed himself, rose from the grave, and shat jelly beans to save us from our sins? Giving up something is the least I can do.
I keep fairly accurate records in case I am called to the Bedazzled Gates of Heaven and made to account for my sacrifices in this yearly time of reflection and renewal.
Below is what I’ve given up for Lent the past few years.
|2013||ctrl-c and ctrl-v|
No. Life is too short for poor quality chocolate.
Life is also too short for single malt that tastes like the inside of an apothecary table. Bring Macallan and I’ll think about it.
No. In lieu of dying eggs, I’m dying my nipples in festive shades of pastel. Later on, I’ll put on bunny ears, egg the neighbors house with Cadburys, and throw Peeps at passing children.
Would I like a poem? Probably not, but I’ll be open-minded… I’ll indulge you.
|three words:||spark, position, excess|
|rudeness level(?):||clever, playful snark|