I was raised in Southern suburbia, not also religious, not too right wing. But my next-door neighbor, Shania, was a violent holy roller. I would known her ever since I was little, and she always scared me just a little a bit. It wasn’t until I turned Nineteen and was home on a college break that I realized that holy roller Shania was attractive. I mean, a knockout. Large mambos. A priceless, round a-hole. And legs you’d die–and kill–for.

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