No handbasket required

While I don't believe in a literal Hell, with pitchforks and flaming colonics, I do believe that if you fling shit, it will eventually fly back in your face. So, for the sake of semantics here, let's say that "going to hell" means getting one's just desserts for transgressions, whether one believes in karma, Satan with a clipboard, or something in between. In that spirit, here are several reasons I'm probably going to hell, or will at least sit in the lobby for a really long time:

• When I was a kid, my mom participated in product surveys all the time, and we would get free unlabled shit to try and rate for the survey company. After my brother got shampoo, my dad got mouthwash, and my mom got deodorant, I could see a trend there, and I complained aloud (more than once and often in public) that by the time they got to me, it would be down to butt rinse.
  
  For the record, the butt rinse never arrived.
  
  
• Also in kidhood, my sis (Squirl) was taking a shower, and little chatterbox that I was, probably age 10 or so, I was in there talking to her. I had my cat, Tene, with me. Tene was walking on the edge of the tub, and...can you see where this is going? It just kind of seemed like a good idea to "encourage" Tene to give in to gravity and suddenly join Squirl on the other side of the shower curtain. The cat slid down the tub into Squirl's supposedly sacrosant shower space and shrieked, so of course, Squirl shrieked in utter surprise, and Tene was a wet grey-striped streak hurtling out of the tub. I claimed for years that Tene fell into the tub. Don't know if I ever 'fessed up to that one. Sorry, Squirl, heh heh. Don't tell Mom!
  
  
• I feel the need to share this with you in this context, because it's just wrong for me to laugh at this, it really really is. But...you tell me if you think I could have helped it. A few weeks ago, I received an email informing me of the death and funeral arrangments of a gentleman named Richard. Now, I mean no disrespect to the dead, but to the person who wrote the email? You be the judge.
  The email contained the sentence "Dick will be shown at ______ Funeral Home" and ended with "Please keep Dick in your prayers."
  First: I've never been to a funeral home like that.
  Second: When is Dick not in my prayers?
  
  
• I am most definitely going to hell for this:
  
  
  
  
• And if not for that, what about for the sin of wasting my time watching a soap opera every day?
  
  Sonny Corinthos is my co-pilot.

Somehow, I don't think there are enough Hail Marys in the world to make up for these and other transgressions. But y'all are welcome to laugh at me all the way.