"Hello, mam. May I please speak with Jesus?"

If you've been scrolling my blog and just looking at titles, you would think I "found God" and was suddenly very, very religious.

If you've been actually reading the blog, you probably are a little worried for my sanity.

It's okay. I worry about it sometimes too!

That white dress? Yep. That was high school me's dream dress. Also, sorry Melani, I stole your picture.

When I was in high school, I spent about 2 months of my life working as a telemarketer. Seriously, the worst job I have ever had but I wanted a prom dress that was $700 and I was determined to make those payments (Side note: I didn't in fact make those payments. My parents bought that dress. Sorry, mom!).

I was the kind of telemarketer who worked outbound calls trying to sell people insurance for their credit card. I hated that job more than basically anything. I'm thoroughly convinced that if I end up going to hell (let's hope that doesnt happen!) but if I do, it's going to be an exact replica of that business, with me permanently strapped to my chair, taking call after call, constantly repeating "Hello, Mrs. Smith. My name is Destiny. How are you doing today? I'm calling in regards to your account with _____________. No, no nothing is wrong with your account. I'm actually just wanting to let you know that we have a debt relief insurance that will protect your account in the unfortunate event that you were to lose your job or become injured! It's only $10 extra per month and will protect your account for up to $10,000! Let's sign you up for that, okay?!" The whole time my manager will be saying "SPEAK WITH A SMILE!" and the jerk supervisor will be reading off everyone's sales for the week (I usually had like 2. I was not telemarketer material and I'm quite fine with that!)

Anyways, one day I got a particularly interesting screen that told me I would be talking to Jesus. JESUS!!! Oh my lanta. If I'm being honest with you, I had an uncontrollable giggle fit. What a cocky name- Jesus. "Oh, yes. This is my son. Jesus Christ Jones. We think he's the second coming" or when he's in trouble- "JESUS CHRIST!! You get your butt back here RIGHT THIS INSTANT! You've really done it this time!" Oh, the perks of having a child named Jesus.

Obviously, high school me was a mess of giggle fits at that instant.

Eventually, a Mexican woman answers the phone "Hello?" and I, through a fit of giggles say ... "Hello, Mam! I'm looking for Jesus." (Bahahah! sounds like I'm having a spiritual crisis). She replies "Jesus?" and I say "Yes, mam. Jesus. Is he home?"

She pauses for quite some time and then replies "You mean Hay-Seuss."

Oh, snap.

Ever since I've been thoroughly convinced that Jesus Christ is really just a Mexican man named Hay-Seuss. We've got the story all wrong, you guys.