Weepy Jesus


If you’re easily offended by religious humor, you should probably stop reading this blog post right now.  And maybe go take a bath in holy water just to be on the safe side.

For those who have stuck around, you’re now all going to hell.  I’m driving the bus so it should be fun ride.  Anyhoo, a few months ago, my brother-in-law and his new wife bought their first home.  My husband went over there to wish them well and check out the new digs.  Normally, when you go to the new home of someone you love, you are supposed to take them a gift.  My husband failed.  My brother-in-law and sister-in-law decided to punish him by sending him home with something.  Something they found in their garage when they moved in.  The previous owners left him behind for a reason.  And now he’s in our home.

Everyone, say hello to Weepy Jesus:










As soon as he walked in the door, our conversation went like this:

Me: WTF is that?

Hubs: It was a gift from bro and sister-in-law.

Me: That’s not a gift.  Do they hate us?  That’s just mean.

Hubs: What?  I think he’s cute.  I’m calling him Weepy Jesus.

Me: No.  Take it back.  I DO not want that thing in our house.

Hubs:  Shhhh, Weepy Jesus can hear you.

Since that fateful night a few months ago, Weepy Jesus has graced the shelf in our room (Not by my choice.  I wanted to wrap him up and give him back to BIL and SIL, but hubs wouldn’t let me.)  Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to know that Weepy Jesus is watching you sleep?  Among other things.  When those “other things” happen, I feel it’s only right that Weepy Jesus look the other way.








Sorry, Weepy Jesus.  Nothing to see here.  It will be over soon.

Tonight, brilliance struck.  Well, maybe not brilliance.  More like a poor excuse for procrastination and maybe one too many 5 hour energy shots.

Me: I feel like Weepy Jesus doesn’t get to see enough of the house.  We should take pictures of him in his new favorite places.

Hubs: I knew there was a reason why I married you.

Me:  I kind of want to take a picture of Weepy Jesus sleeping next to Spawn.  Does that make me a bad mother?

Hubs:  I feel like this is totally wrong and totally awesome all at once.  I don’t know what to feel.

Me: Shit.  I don’t have a flash on my iPad.  Ooooh, look, Weepy Jesus likes to look at fish.










Me:  Maybe he’ll turn those 6 little fish into 20 and we can feed a village.

Hubs:  That was so wrong.

Me: It’s like you don’t even know me.

Hubs: Still, that’s an epic picture.  He’s totally staring at the fish.

Me: Ok, here you go Weepy Jesus.  Cuddle next to Spawn.  Fuck.  Why does your iPhone suck?  This picture is too blurry.

Me: *laughing, snorting, giggling*

Hubs: *grabs the phone from me and tries taking it himself*

Me: *more laughing, snorting, giggling*

Hubs: We just took 20 pictures with the flash on and Spawn hasn’t even blinked.

Me: This picture still sucks.

Hubs: *turns bright, overhead light on in the room*

Me: OMG I can’t believe you just turned the light on while she’s sleeping!  *laughing, snorting, giggling* Never mind.  This is a great picture!








Me: I think Weepy Jesus should take a look at my current work in progress.  He might be able to give me a few tips.

Hubs: No, he should totally pose with the Grand Theft Auto poster I got today.

Me: That’s just dumb.

Hubs:  Weepy Jesus hangin’ with some hookers and thugs.

Me: That is wrong on so many levels.

Hubs: Have you not been paying attention what we’ve been doing for the last 30 minutes?










Weepy Jesus: Why do you have ‘Oh God!’ in here so much? It’s redundant.  And why are people always exclaiming my name? Sometimes people just say it.  Or ask me a question.  It doesn’t always have to be a shout.

Me: If you don’t like the chapter, just say so.  You don’t have to be rude.

Weepy Jesus: I prefer historical novels.

Hubs: Are you talking to Weepy Jesus?

Me: He doesn’t like my chapter.  He’s totally judging me.

Hubs: We should probably stop standing so close to one another.  When lightening strikes, at least one of us will live to tell the tale of Weepy Jesus and his night of fun.

And that brings us to now and my need to tell all of you that this happened.  You know how when you read the stuff I write in Chocolate Lovers and you say “Oh my God, real people don’t act like that.  No one is that stupid.”  False.  WE are that stupid.

*Update: as I was writing this blog post, my phone rang and it was hubs.

Me: Are you seriously calling me from upstairs right now?

Hubs: I am.  I was just calling to remind you to bring Weepy Jesus back upstairs with you.

Me: Oh my God.

Hubs: Yes, that too.  Where IS Weepy Jesus now, anyway?

Me: I don’t know.  I haven’t seen him.  I think he might have finally realized this wasn’t the house for him.  Or he’s outside smoking after reading my chapter.  BOOM!

Hubs: That’s just sad.

Me: Weepy Jesus thinks it’s awesome.  Go to sleep.  Rest easy.  I shall find Weepy Jesus and bring him back to his rightful place on the shelf in our room.

Hubs: Poor Weepy Jesus.


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