Sense of Humour

  
I cried “Why don’t you help me?” and
God said nothing I could hear.

I said “You have abandoned me!” and
God said “Have I?”

I declared “You don’t exist!”
and God said “If you say so, dear.”

I studied and read, I sought mentors. I had
magic, incense, candles, bells, incantations, circles, water, salt, spells, dragons, quarters, elements, cords, herbs
fucking craft projects
God said “Well, this is all very interesting! What does this one do?”

I studied and read, I quoted Lao Tsu & Chong Tse & Sidartha & the Lotus Sutra & I breathed mantras to Kuan Yin through tears and then
God said “Well, this is familiar.”

And then God said “Look, here is a shiny thing. Behold; it is well formed and kind.”
I beheld the shiny thing and breathed in its light and cried.

God said “I am calling to you, but I know how you are. Do you know how I am yet?”
And I said, sniffling, “Maybe.” And then, “Show me more. Please?”
And God said “I know how you are & I know what you need. You are a funny girl.”

And he led me to a dense place, packed with love as gauze fills a wound. There was room for me.

I became sicker and God said “I know how you are. I know all of you. Help each other out.”

The power of Christ compels me.

I writhe unable to sleep just trying to comprehend
what is the end
why didn’t this one thing happen
or this other
then it does
and God laughs and says “You are a funny girl. Don’t you know me by now?”

Let’s Have a National Conversation About Taking Me Out For Dinner

Look, we’re never going to have sex & you’re not allowed to touch me. I’m a happily boyfriended girl, & also you’re married/slightly creepy/bald. So in this spirit of raw honesty we simply must have a national conversation about how I’m barely functional in Los Angeles but you have money & you’re not taking me out to dinner for some reason.

You know I’m a goddamned fucking delight. One time we had pleasant banter on Twitter & another time we ran into each other at Starbucks & you thought my Nerd shirt was cute. You were obviously covering for staring at my tits, so imagine getting to spend an entire hour or more staring at them from across a table while I make nigh orgasmic sounds consuming gourmet gluten free foods.

Look, I know you have a family function/aortic aneurysm repair/yogic free range cruelty free retreat to go to. I will work with your schedule. Just know that I tend to eat only once a day. If I lose too much weight too fast, my boobs will go flat. Neither of us wants that. Think of the children.

You can write every meal off on your taxes as charity. Now you’re helping the less fortunate while staring at tits! Everyone wins in this tax free, bipartisan solution!

You also know I have a habit of being a free goddamned therapist to everyone, so the cost benefits of avoiding seeing Dr. Painfullyslowprogressonyourdadissues are incalculable. If you take me to Nobu, though, it’s kinda a wash.

Think of me as the only woman who isn’t disappointed in you but is also very hungry. Think of me as Mother Teresa but hotter & also I say “fuck” a lot more than she did, by all reports. If you just add me to your family gathering, I can guarantee a 75% reduction in f-bombs & a 100% increase in my Mary Poppinsesque mastery of your young children.

You have my number.

Disclaimer: if you post some kind of humorless comment below, I will diagnose you with Asperger’s syndrome & will also mock you to my roommate. There is no “Think of me like The Onion” font.