In a fit of what I can only call “mid-twenties rebellion” my husband married me. It’s not like I’m a bad person, on the whole, if you were to meet me, you’d probably think I was “nice” or at the very least “interesting.” I don’t have oozing sores, I am freakishly fanatical (read: annoying) about … Continue reading Jesus Don’t Want Me For A Sunbeam