I feel like there should be a joke somewhere in this blog post

Last night Chris and I watched “Doubt,” the Oscar-nominated nun/priest movie starring Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and that one chick who everyone mistakes for Borat’s wife.

While we’re on the subject, may I just say that other peoples’ constant confusion between Isla Fischer and Amy Adams is one that annoys me to no end. I mean, sure, they’re both petite, red-haired actresses, but hello! “Drop Dead Gorgeous”?! “Catch Me If You Can”?! “Talladega Nights,” for god’s sake?! (Granted, Isla Fisher was in “Wedding Crashers,” another favorite of mine, but still, Amy’s my main gal. Ahem, obviously.)

Awkward, obsessive rant about celebrities I’ve never met nor will ever meet: Over.

So anytime I see a lot of nuns in one place, I’m reminded of this one time I was driving home from work. I was stuck behind a slow car, not too slow, but slow enough to be annoying – you know the type – and when I passed the car, I glanced over to see who had momentarily caused my speedometer to drop below 65 miles per hour and saw FIVE nuns in the car. FIVE NUNS! It wasn’t like one or two nuns, that would have been fairly routine. But no, every available seat in the car was occupied by a nun. Even the hump seat! There was a nun on the hump! Has that ever happened in the history of the nunnery? I think not.

[See what I mean about the joke? Isn’t there some sort of, “How many nuns can you fit in a VW Bug?” kind of thing going on there? No? Ooookay, moving on.]

So there were FIVE NUNS! driving the speed limit down the freeway and after I glanced over (and thanked God that I hadn’t flipped them off), I started laughing out loud. Because really, how are nuns supposed to drive other than sensibly? I mean, the day I see a gaggle of nuns barrel-assing down the freeway will be the day I know that Armageddon is imminent.