Jesus Made Me Do It

At work today, I was reading an injury report filled out by one of our truck drivers. These consist of a series of questions relating to the driver's injury and the surrounding incidents. As I was perusing the report, I was befuddled by this particular driver's answers to some of the questions:

Question: Who was the injury reported to?

Answer: First to Jesus, then to [our company.]


Okay... I can understand if that may have been his answer. However, I'm not sure if I would have written it out on the official injury report...


Continuing on, I came to another interesting answer.


Question: How could this incident have been avoided?

Answer: It could have been avoided if I did not pull from the handle. (Note: I was instructed by Jesus to pull from the handle.)

Okay. At this point I was feeling like this was getting  a bit ridiculous. I understand there are many people in the world who are very in tune with their religious beliefs. But, really? This seemed like a pretty odd variant of "the devil made me do it." I don't feel like this would hold up in any kind of worker's compensation claim.

As my neighboring coworkers had already gone home for the evening, I sat there, wondering aloud to myself and being generally distraught and quite confused about this report for a good long while.

Then, as if it fell from Heaven, I was struck by a very important detail that I had been overlooking the entire time:


I live and work in Southern California where there are many, many Hispanic males named "Jesus."


Thank you, Christian college.

Would YOU have a drink with you?

Julia Styles shares a drink with Julia Styles.

  


This commercial provokes my thoughts.

"Would you have a drink with you?"

Weh-heh-ell! That's something to think about. But I cannot answer the question without first asking a series of seemingly related yet equally unnecessary ones. As a student in the fine field of journalism, I must whip out the WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHEN, WHY, and HOWs:






Who is going to pay the tab-- me or me?
Who is going to believe me when I tell them about this later?
What am I going to talk about with myself?
What should I both wear?
Where am I going to go?
When is this little date going to go down?
When should we conclude this creepy rendezvous?
Why should I attempt such an unusual out of body experience?
How will I get back into one body afterwards?
 
Nevermind. This question is obviously way too involved for any one person to figure out by themselves. It's actually almost outrageous enough to be something that I could only discuss with another me... over drinks.
 
I'll give you a good question. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would chuck wood? Riddle me that, Stoli Vodka.
 
I win. You can put it on the booooard...YES!
 
Despite this victory, in the grand scheme of things, the score is still something like
 
Carsten- 1
Vodka- 1,485
 
 
 
But that's neither here nor th-- Oh, forget it. I need a drink.*




*Please resist the urge to conclude that this post was written after or during the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol. Everything written here was done so under wholly sober conditions. Believe it. Don't believe it. It's your life.