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Dammmm, I Just Got Proselytize-d

I Googled and down the page was this. Awesome.

You know nothing ruins a perfectly good cigarette break than being proselytize-ed. Good looking young dude dressed in the Mormon uniform rolled up to me, obviously, to tell me “I’m a messenger from Christ.” I said, “Get out of here.” He replied, “Hey are you OK buddy.” I said, “Get out of here,” and I didn’t raise my voice or show any emotion.. Because those people can’t take no for an answer, or do not understand the word no or they are so brainwashed that they must do this, he said, “Can I give you my card.” I took the card and said, “Get out of here.”

He thought that there was something wrong, maybe I was having a bad day, or that I needed his specific brand of Christ (of the hella out there), but the only thing wrong was that he f*cked up my cigg break. Arsehole.


* Proselytized sounds like a weird disease that you get ‘down there.’ “Dam dude,” dramatic bro pause because we are talking about wieners here, then slowly holding back that sexist man-tear, “You…you got proselytized.” Then you both cry the hard cry that only repressed men can do and you hug that manly hug-the one where if you hug hard enuff, then it’s not gay.


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