God Hates Me
Keep in mind that I'm not a religious person (which could be the reason that God has decided to smite me down to size--but see, God? I capitalized your name. I don't usually do that, so now you're winning. Truce?) If you are religious, you may find my post a little offensive, but I'd appreciate it if you'd still be my friend, because I think God would like to see me with more of His people.
Since April 26 (just before the 7-year anniversary of me and Mike's first date--were we living in sin too long, God? He made me an honest woman!) my kitty has required around $2,000 in medical attention, and endless trips to and from the vet (during which he yowls incessantly, which is better than when he peed himself in the carrier last Thursday, thus requiring another (3rd) cast change). My car (a teal Pontiac Sunbird inherited from my grandmother a few years ago with 13,000 miles on it) has just been assessed a $1,450 minimum estimate to repair a blown head gasket (or something--don't ask me because I don't understand it), all because we let the radiator fluid get down to zero. The car is scarcely worth that much, so we will have to buy a new car. With all that extra money we have laying around after our house payment every month. Oh, and don't let me forget that on my way home from work yesterday, while talking to my mechanic friend about the Pontiac, the check engine light in the other car came on. So right now the Toyota is at the mechanic friend's shop, getting $600 worth of repairs done on it. Do you feel sorry for me yet? God? God's assistant? Can I get a little sympathy here?
I've also been eating too much and the Hollywood Wedding is this weekend. The Hollywood Wedding that isn't taking place in Hollywood, but may include some Hollywood types among the guests. Which is why I don't feel guilty scheduling a $25 mist-on tan on Thursday night. (It's not vanity, God, it's necessity. I will not be the only person that matches the beach at the ceremony.)
There's one thing that God can still do for me. What do you say, Dude?
Since April 26 (just before the 7-year anniversary of me and Mike's first date--were we living in sin too long, God? He made me an honest woman!) my kitty has required around $2,000 in medical attention, and endless trips to and from the vet (during which he yowls incessantly, which is better than when he peed himself in the carrier last Thursday, thus requiring another (3rd) cast change). My car (a teal Pontiac Sunbird inherited from my grandmother a few years ago with 13,000 miles on it) has just been assessed a $1,450 minimum estimate to repair a blown head gasket (or something--don't ask me because I don't understand it), all because we let the radiator fluid get down to zero. The car is scarcely worth that much, so we will have to buy a new car. With all that extra money we have laying around after our house payment every month. Oh, and don't let me forget that on my way home from work yesterday, while talking to my mechanic friend about the Pontiac, the check engine light in the other car came on. So right now the Toyota is at the mechanic friend's shop, getting $600 worth of repairs done on it. Do you feel sorry for me yet? God? God's assistant? Can I get a little sympathy here?
I've also been eating too much and the Hollywood Wedding is this weekend. The Hollywood Wedding that isn't taking place in Hollywood, but may include some Hollywood types among the guests. Which is why I don't feel guilty scheduling a $25 mist-on tan on Thursday night. (It's not vanity, God, it's necessity. I will not be the only person that matches the beach at the ceremony.)
There's one thing that God can still do for me. What do you say, Dude?
posted by Lady Ursula at 2:03 PM
5 Comments:
God doesn’t hate you Ursula. God hates cars. I think He’s jealous cuz we pay more attention to our cars. We pray to our cars (mostly begging for mercy) and car-related gods (e.g. parking fairies) much more often than we pray to Him. Recently God was really pissed off at me and decided to smite down my piece of shite car four blocks from the dismantler in San Leandro. The government was going to pay me $500 to dismantle my car cuz it was an irreparable smog hazard and I had gone through the 8,467 motions and forms to get my cash money and got off the freeway and down the street and the damn thing died, dead. Completely dead. No warning. Was running fine (besides killing innocent children with its fumes) up to that point. The list of requirements for my $500 were minimal: one car seat, one car window, a steering wheel, functional wheels. But they did require that I drive the thing on to the lot to get it smushed. Don’t ask me the logic. Anyway, I ended up having to pay to get it towed rather than get a dime of my government money. All this to say, God obviously feels really threatened by cars (I think its some kind guy thing) and we humans bare the brunt of his “issues”.
You looked in great shape to me when we met so however you feel about eating too much lately, I highly recommend wearing something skimpy or, at least, slinky to the Hollywood Wedding. Show a little skin and get your money’s worth on that fake tan. And be sure to bring a notepad or voice recorder. Drunken wedding conversations are the best.
Man, Urs, you've been hit hard. I think tho that these things always happen in threes, so your pocketbook should be safe for a while longer (currently knocking on wood). Or is knocking on wood and believing that things happen in threes just more pagan crap that might disrupt your truce with God? Maybe you should give Him all caps. GOD.
At least you get to buy a new car? That's always fun!
And, even when you've been worried about your weight before, I've never seen you be anything other than slender, so you'll be just fine at the H Wedding. Really.
Urs,
As God's representative (and gift to women), and because you're my friend, I've taken up your plea with her. God is a woman, by the way, in case you didn't know--you and all your creepy friends of all people should know this. Maybe this gender mistake of yours is why she's so pissed at you. Or maybe she's just jealous of your fake tan [snort]--women can be catty that way [ducking from the lightning]. Anyways, she says she appreciates the change in attitude from you, but I get the sense that it might be too little too late. All hope is not lost, though. If you make her a little peace offering to get back on her good side, that might do the trick. I would recommend sending her a basketball jersey or three. She really likes those. If you deliver them to me I'll see she gets 'em.
And I suppose she's XL?
PS Thanks for the encouragement, ladies! The quesadilla that just found a home in my belly strenuously disagrees, but appreciates your thoughts nonetheless.
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