Today I went to a gospel brunch. It was not quite what I expected. The food, with all of it's Cajun goodness, was mighty tasty. The music, on the other hand, was not so great. Of course, this is probably because of the preconceived mental image I had before arriving. While I do enjoy a variety of jazz and blues music, I had not really been exposed to gospel music outside of the film The Blues Brothers. I was expecting lots of up-beat James Brown preaching music, with people waving fans and doing backflips down the aisles. While I do realize Blues Brothers is just a movie and does not reflect real life, part of my brain was not listening to this logic and simply decided that that is the way gospel is supposed to be. Instead, I got a bunch of music slowed down so much that each note, sung in a warbling voice, was prolonged to the limits of my tolerance, then prolonged a bit more. I am glad that I got to attend, but I think this is one of those things that I will chalk up under “things I am glad to have done once in my life, but do not need to actively pursue again,” along with eating dirt flavored jelly beans, letting someone put hot mustard on a chopstick up my nose, mixing vicodin with beer, and wearing a bra and hat made of foil.