Corinthians 6:19

I was visiting a friend last weekend who recently bought a house in the town of Roseville, just outside of Sacramento. I know. But the house is actually really cute -- although admittedly I'm suffering from both home-ownership and yard envy (my rent alone is like a mortgage, people, and you want grass and trees in the City? Forget it). Now, I've been to the Sacramento area a whopping 4 or 5 times, and mostly stopping at the In-N-Out burger off I-80 coming home from Tahoe. Not counting all we learned as kids from "Eight is Enough", my main impressions of the Sac were: Blech. The whole Generica suburban smoggy nightmare level of hell. The taste of evil? A little chalky.

And now another reason to grit my teeth. A few blocks from her (cute) house was The Lord's Gym. The building is painted with a giant muscular bleeding Jesus doing pushups with a cross on his back. Horrified, I sped to the internet only to learn that these gyms exist all over the freakin' country (though I stood agape before the original!) and their T-shirt happens to be one of the best-selling T-shirts of all time (His Pain, Your Gain). I wonder if they have Steppin' the Stairway to Heaven aerobics classes. I do see they offer boxing, so basically you can beat the shit out of someone in the name of Jesus. Anyway, I guess the fact that this is all new to me just proves what a glorious godless Gomorrah I live in, even if I can't rake any lawn.