a chi, double hockey sticks

Neither slavery nor hell is funny, but I could not stop laughing when one of my partner's "better" students presented the following to her as a potential headline for a Social Studies article (news format) on slavery in the 13 colonies:

"African Slaves Feel Like Hell."

Faux Friday Brain strikes again.

As a child I took fire-and-brimstone messages of church way seriously, and have always been afraid of netherworld infernos and the like. As a result, growing up, I tried to refrain from using "hell" too casually ... I do admit to freely asking, "What the hell?" whenever out of earshot of the impressionable young minds I muddy on a daily basis, but try not to say things like, "I'm in hell" or "Go to hell."

Except when I got the following e-mail from my MIL, regarding the upcoming family Christmas party:

Maha Rhandi [my BIL], self-appointed entertainment director, w/ talent on loan from God, dropped off my packet just awhile ago. There's a CD w/ all the songs that we can choose from (1 song to lip sync). Shane will pick up packet from Karlene. Please come at 12:00 PM. Cause the game starts soon after and then the singing contest or something. Scavenger hunt outside the bank and in vans. Don't get lost and don't say anything. Could be a secret. Needless to say, I am speechless.

She's speechless?! The "worst" my family has ever done to anyone (which I secretly love, anyway) is bust out the hand bells, year after year, for Christmas Bell Caroling. We also play about 6,000 versions of Bingo and the Price is Right. Yes, we sing "This is the Day" and "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," but not with the intention of making anyone look like a horse's ass!

So yep, the first thing out of my mouth was, "Sounds like an afternoon in hell."

I know God will forgive me for that but I can only hope BIL (and Grandma, who has apparently been appointed Paula Abdul) will forgive me for being mysteriously invisible during his festive holiday game.