Blogging live from Hipsterville.
- Mother Mary, I’m sorry about that one time a punched a boy in the jaw in your presence. I’m not sorry that I did it. I’m just sorry that you had to witness it. I know as a mother, you would commend your daughter for doing the same.
- Mother Mary, I’m also sorry that the rock I threw didn’t hit him and bounced and hit the tower you stood on instead.
- Mother Mary, I’m sorry I curse and drink so much. But your son liked wine… so…
- Mother Mary, I’m sorry that this is only the third time I’ve sat here in my four years in Hipsterville.
- Mother Mary, I’m not religious, I got kicked out of the Baptist cult camp AWANA at the tender age of 7, but I want to believe that you will protect me.
- Mother Mary, close your eyes while I throw my shoe at this tree in frustration. Life is confusing and crazy. You probably understand that considering you were a pregnant virgin teen and all.
- Mother Mary, I’m going to walk across a stage in four days but I promise to come back to this very spot in Hipsterville and talk to you again one day.
- Mother Mary, thanks for listening and not judging. You’re pretty cool.