In my years of Starbucks drawing (Jesus! "In my years of Starbucks drawing"! What a colossal misuse of my time, which could have been allotted to whatever it is I should have been doing with my life, and it should be painfully clear that I still don't have the vaguest notion what that might be. The old saw "Many are called but few are chosen" may be an old saw, but it still has sharp teeth, because apparently I didn't even make the "called" cut. The celestial equivalent of Simon Cowell didn't even see fit to let me get to the next round. Not that I sat by the phone or nothing, but it would have been kind of nice to have been awokened by a beam of light from above and a Leonard-Cohen like voice intoning, "How about EG-155429a, Exotic Aniimal Groomer? Care to give that a shot?" No, either the Heavenly Host lost my number or else decided to let me fend for myself, and if that's the case, They have no one to blame but Theirselves, because this is just the way I fend) I have run into a larger than expected number of Wedding Cake creators, who love to meet their clients at Starbucks, and who seem to be without exception Christians, and not just Christians (which is perfectly fine with me, as long as they don't try to pull sneaky shit like trying to get me to accept Jesus Christ as my personal savior right there at that very moment), but the sort of Christian who actively seeks to inject their religious life into every unsuspecting nook and cranny of the conversation, so that by the end of the meeting, the other parties, including totally innocent bystanders and busybody sketchers alike, know more than we ever wanted about the political infighting taking place in this or that particular congregation, such as how Brother Dinwiddie's intestinal problems are disrupting the spirit of fellowship among the members of Thursday night's Adult Bible Study class. It's kind of comforting that Christians don't seem to act any more Christlike than the rest of us, in the same way we're comforted to see Kirstie Alley fat again.