Jesus just cockblocked my lazy day

I took a couple days off, trying to alleviate some work burnout, and put myself on the waitlist for a popular class at my gym tonight. I figured if I got in, that was Jesus telling me to get off my ass and leave the house, and if not, clearly He’d prefer I stay home and watch comedy shows.

They just emailed me that I got in, and godDAMMIT, Jesus! This is why I’m not religious!

Ugh. FINE. I’ll do something “They” claim is good for mental health — fucking hippies tryna thwart the part of my brain that’s perfectly content being fat and depressed, thankyouverymuch. 🙄

Dude, God don’t like ugly…

Holy shit, when did Philadelphia become part of the Bible Belt?

🎵 “We built this city on Su-da-feddd…” 🎶

Last week I went on vacation and stayed with a friend and her husband for part of the trip. My friend came down with a cold while I was there, and her lovely, amazing husband went out and brought her an assortment of cold meds, and when he realized he forgot something, went BACK out to get that as well.

So obviously now *I* have a cold, and I’m lookin’ around and it’s just me and Jesus in the house, and oddly, Jesus is shit at errands, so if I want drugs, I have to pull my 90-lb. skull off this pillow and go get them myself.

I see now that this is basically the ONLY reason to be in a relationship. A nice man is going to bring me wonton soup, but I don’t think he’s legally permitted to bring me Sudafed.

Right, then. So as soon as I get back from CVS, I’m gonna answer ALL the OkCupid messages, and hell, maybe sign up for Match, too.

“So, how did you two meet?”

“Well, it all began that day I needed a pharmacy minion…”

Live by the Golden Rule…unless it’s funny not to.

I am generally against sharing OkCupid usernames and photos, and I try not to do it, and whenever I do, I always feel bad, because I wouldn’t want anyone sharing MINE.

That said… I’m not even sure what to make of this combination of things, but it amused me.

Possibly because this is MOST DEFINITELY what Jesus would do?

Twitter Jesus is looking out for me.

“What about a giant, glowy ghost dildo? Do you need a giant, glowy ghost dildo?”

“That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

I just noticed that Guy I Dated for a Minute has RSVP’ed “yes” to a mutual friend’s holiday party I also said “yes” to.

Whatever, fuckface — I ain’t scared.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to spend the next 3 weeks getting pretty and practicing ignoring douchebags. Because that’s what Jesus would do.

(I’ve realized recently that whole thing messed me up more than it should have. But screw it, that’s what therapy’s for. Let’s dance, Psyche.)

Observations on trying to eat better

1. Salad is stupid. Fuck off with your leaves, salad. I’m not a goddamn giraffe.

2. Trying to solve problems without burying them in fried cheese is like trying to count to purple.

3. Jesus turned water into wine because even HE knew water is some bullshit.

I’m about to go high-five this woman’s vagina.

I was debating what to post today but couldn’t decide. And that was CLEARLY because the Lord Baby Jesus knew I’d see this 5 minutes later and laugh so hard my stomach hurt:

“Jesus be a fence around this baby’s mother’s Love Pocket. May it recover, in His MIGHTY name. I IMMEJATELY started doing kegels upon seeing the picture because I got stressed by proxy.”

“This baby walked out of his mothers vagina with a career and bills.”

“…My uterus just put up a ‘closed forever’ sign when I read this. Any eggs that were left over just scrambled themselves to save my poor lady bits from that type of destruction. I’ll be over in the corner with my legs crossed thinking about ice packs and Percocet.”

P.S. I am aware I’m a bad person. But some of the comments are so, SO funny.

Via Awesomely Luvvie: Whose Precious Giant Newborn is This?

Who put this Jesus in my vagina?

So today I did the annual gyno exam, which is generally annoying as fuck. I really don’t appreciate anyone touching my vagina if it doesn’t end in orgasm.

Got put on a birth control pill so I can be a fatter, moodier, assholier asshole. (“What’s the Lamictal for?” “It’s for Crazy, so make sure I get Pill Lite so we don’t make that worse.”)

Then went downstairs in the same building to an on-site lab — SUPER convenient, but the lab is more free about being part of a Jesus-y hospital system. So there are crosses on the walls, presumably so I can pray to Jesus to forgive me for fucking, and also pray while the lady jacks four vials of my blood to make sure my vagina doesn’t have any biblical plagues.

This better be the best goddamn sex I’ve ever had.

The bitch of it? He’s starting to annoy me so I don’t think that’s even going to happen. But these are all good things to have done in general.

Still, fuck everything. I am dizzy, and getting tacos on my way home. Hmph.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, some good mood-altering substances.

I think I’m packed for Christmas, yeah?  

No, wait… You’re right. I need beer.

Also, I totally hear you — Xanax would’ve been great, but alas, there’s some shit about ethics where they won’t give it to me because I don’t actually have anxiety? I KNOW, right, what the shit? This IS America, right? Family gatherings + Jesus’ birthday = special dispensation. That’s in the Bible: “And lo, distributed among them, there were delicious medications, and yea, they were happy. OK, well…not really HAPPY, but they didn’t hit anyone, and so there was peace on earth, and sedated goodwill toward men.”

P.S. I will spend today baking MANY cookies; those are almost Xanax if you eat enough of them.

P.P.S. That whiskey is not for me. That shit is like having one of those hippie honey cough drops in your drink. Ugh.