Posts Tagged 'Jesus'

An Open Letter to Jesus

Dear Jesus,

What are you doing? Why are you so angry? Why have you ended the lives of Ed MacMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and Billy Mays in less than a week?

Listen, Jesus. I’m already stressed enough trying to put on three musicals over the summer, and now I have to constantly worry about which celebrity is going to die next!

Celebrity deaths are more stressful than the deaths of normal, boring people, because you have to read about them on every website you visit and every paper you open. There are countless VH1 retrospectives and E! Breaking News reports. When a normal person dies, you just get a phone call and then it’s over. Whatever.

So, Jesus, I’d really appreciate it if you could hold off for awhile on making celebrities die. I’d really appreciate it.

I’ll be honest, Jeezy, this is why I pray to Britney Spears instead of you. She’s a lot more loving.

Sincerley,

Elaine

I woke up this morning and I was scared.

This morning I woke up and now I am convinced that something is wrong about today. Let me tell you why.

This morning I woke up to the harsh sound of sprinklers. This is not a sound I usually hear when I wake up (during the summer) since we do not usually have the sprinklers on at 12:37PM, my favorite wakey-wakey time.

Confused, I glanced at my cheap IKEA wall clock– WTF?? 6:35????

Obviously this must be a mistake! I can’t be awake at 6:35AM! Shit, these cheap clocks always run out of batteries… maybe it just lost power at 6:35.

I’ll stare at the second hand to see if it moves…

Fuck it moved.

I still don’t believe it. Let me check my cell phone… 6:34AM?!! That’s only a minute earlier, but a minute of much needed beauty rest.

Okay, okay, calm yourself. I’ll just close my eyes and go back to bed until 12:37…

But now I’ve moved and can’t find that comfortable spot on the bed… and why are the sprinklers so fucking loud?

Okay, that felt like 6 hours and 3 minutes. What time is it now?

SIX FIFTY-FOUR A.M.? (That’s 6:54AM for you illiterate folk)

Fuck this, I want orange juice. Too bad we haven’t had juice for weeks (Elaine and Forrest can confirm this fact).

It shouldn’t be this easy to get out of bed this early. That’s just not right. Holy shit… am I the first one up in the whole house? Or did everyone just… disappear? I thought that parents were always awake before children. Maybe they’re all hiding downstairs… still no one.

Maybe they’re hiding in the fridge– OH MY GOD. Is that orange juice? Yes… I believe that is Naked Orange Juice.

Jeez, Britney Jean Spears is really on my side today.

I really feel like doing a crossword puzzle… too bad they don’t have any in the Sunday paper. I guess I’ll get the paper for the rest of the family though…

Jesus this paper if fat… okay put all the ads over there… what’s this? Obituaries? Aww look, there’s one for Farrah. I wonder if there’s a giant one for Michael? I’ll just turn the page– WTF???!!

HAVE THEY ALWAYS HAD CROSSWORD PUZZLES THERE?

My whole life I have looked for Sunday puzzles in the classifieds section.

Jesus, God just loves me today.

–The End–

Now that the story is over, I’ll tell you why Jesus loves me. Yesterday, I was due at a birthday party at La Jolla Shores around noon, aka the busiest time at the most touristy beach in San Diego. After getting off the 52, I was low on gas, stuck in backed-up traffic, and dreading the parking nightmare I was going to have to face after I filled up. A friend already told me that they had spent 25 minutes finding parking and that didn’t seem very appealing.

When I got to the station I looked at the price on the button and it was $3.375– “shit, gas has gotten really expensive!” I thought.

I started filling up and looked around the station– you know, what you do at the station when you have no one to talk to. Then I looked back at the pump…

“FUCK! THAT’S NOT THE UNLEADED GAS BUTTON!”

But by then it was too late. I had filled up on Super when my ’97 Toyota only takes Unleaded. On top of that, I paid 38 more cents per gallon for it. The gas cap door said in giant bold letters, “UNLEADED FUEL ONLY”, and not knowing what the consequences of using non-unleaded fuel, I was afraid my car would explode.

I started the ignition… no explosion. But maybe it had to burn off the old fuel still left in the tank?

So then I began my quest for parking, in a car that could explode at any second. Obviously I wanted to find parking fast.

I spent 10 minutes in the surrounding streets because the parking lot looked full, but I gave up on that– no street parking whatsoever. So I dared to enter the parking lot. I didn’t find anything my first time around the lot, so I decided to go in for a second. The traffic was backed up all the down the aisles since people were stopping in the middle of the road, waiting for non-existant people to back out.

Desperate, scared, and lonely, I did something drastic.

I made a pact with Jesus.

I said, “Jesus, if you give me a parking spot, I’ll give you my life!”

Soon enough (it must’ve taken a minute or so for the message to get to Jeezy up in space), I saw lights come on from a car in a space.

“Oh my God, are they leaving??”

And lucky me, even though the aisle was backed up, I was in the perfect position to take the spot!

And that is why I sold my soul to Jesus and why I’ve been having such good luck today.

— Josh

Happy Birthday Jesus!!

This is going to be one of those blog posts that are really short because really the whole message is in the title.

Alas, happy birthday Jesus! Finally the big 2008!

I hope Mary got you that Honda Prius you’ve been wanting!

I’m going to try to make a cake for you, but if that doesn’t work out, I’ll bake you one when I get back from Mexico (and I’m sure Elaine will be glad to help).

Love,

Josh

(Readers: sorry if you’re on Christmas overload right now– four posts on Christmas is a lot!)

I Am Not a Western Mystic.

During a recent visit to Yogurt World with some friends, we discovered a poster taped to the wall. “Mystery School. It’s always darkest before the dawn. But you can make the sun rise in your mind anytime you want.” We were intrigued, and the four of us decided that we would go. We found Mystery School’s website and learned about what it taught – something called Western Mysticism that was all about the path to enlightenment. Seminars promised jokes! live discussion! meditation! and magic!

Well, the day of Mystery School finally arrives, and (big surprise!) Josh and I end up being the only ones who actually go. The event was located about twenty minutes away at a Del Mar Marriott. But we got lost three times, which made us ten minutes late. When we entered the hotel we saw a sign “Mystery School – Down the stairs”. So away we went.

We got to the end of a hallway and suddenly began to hear loud, creepy music. We started to get scared and argued about turning back, but before we could reach a decision, a man in a black-suit with an earpiece stepped out from an adjoining hallway. “Mystery School?” He asked. We nodded, and he motioned us a group of other late-comers waiting in front of the door. The music was much louder, and there were several other black-suited, ear pieced people hanging around. Some people will sitting on the ground meditating.

Finally, the song ended (which I identified as The Who’s “Reign O’er Me”, which is fairly intense when played at epic volumes (on a side note, Pete Townshend would have totally been into Mystery School)). The man at the door said into his earpiece, “Eleven coming in”. He opened the door, and all the late-comers were issued in. We found seats in the back. The room was packed. At least 100 people. As we sat, we noticed that there were more black-suit, ear piece people stationed at every door the ballroom had. The one near us paced back and forth.

A woman was speaking. We missed her introduction but it seemed that she was the leader, the teacher. When we came in she was just talking about the previous events (this had been going on nightly for the past week). She seemed nice. She was funny. And she cursed! A lot! A spiritual leader who curses? Cool! It seemed like it would be an interesting night. And then she said, “Let’s talk about Jesus.” Josh and I exchanged a look and tried to keep from bursting out laughing. (In her defense, she was talking about Jesus as an enlightened figure and because it’s near Christmas. She talked abut some other enlightened beings too. (She even felt one’s presence in the room at one point!))

She went on to tell us lots about Jesus. He was sexy! She told us that he wasn’t some emaciated little man, he was “beefy”! And he had sex with tons of girls. He “got shit done”. And she should know. She’s studied with him.

Finally it was time to mediate. She told us to focus on our heart chakra. I’ve never really mediated, but I understand that it’s meant to be peaceful and rather quiet. And that’s why I was confused when her music choice was heavy metal. A few times I thought, “Hey! I’m doing it! I’m meditating!” But then I realized that I was just falling asleep.

After the mediation, she spoke some more. Then we mediated again (this time to rain forest sounds). At the end of the meditation, she stood up, announced a break, started to play Christmas carols, and escorted by a black-suit, earpiece man left the room. Josh and I took this opportunity to run quickly back to the car. We checked the time: we had been at Mystery School for two hours.

In the car we debriefed and deiced that all in all, it was pretty freaky. Mediation is good. Cursing spiritual leaders are good. But were all those security people necessary? Hey, at least we tried it. Direct quote from Josh Lin: “In the last mediation I swear I felt my hand’s start to float. That shit’s not right.”

So even though we might not become as enlightened as sexy Jesus, at least you can’t say that we’re not open-minded.

Thank you Jesus

Dear Jesus and/or Secret,

Thank you for not making me a complete idiot and for making me have an IQ greater than a monkey’s. I really appreciate it.

Today I was listening to the radio (of course to Channel 93.3, the only station that plays “Womanizer” [I’m still working on getting some airplay on Kyxy Soft Rock 96.5]), and the host had a little riddle titled “What’s in My Pants?” where basically you had to guess what was in his pants from three clues and then you could win tickets. Obviously the game was made for dirty minds. Here were the three clues:

  1. You have to be careful with it or the tip might break.
  2. The more you use it, the smaller it gets.
  3. It almost always carries a rubber.

So obviously Jesus, the answer is “pencil”. But a girl who was unlucky enough to broadcast her stupidity around San Diego guessed… wait for it…

Q-TIP.

WTF Jesus?! Why did you do that to this poor girl? What did she do to deserve this?

But I don’t mind, as long as it’s not me.

Once again, thank you for everything, especially all those holidays we celebrate for you because I know that’s just you making sure I don’t have to go to school all the time.

Yours in earnest,

Josh


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Contact Elaine and Josh!

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Elaine:

elgray21@student.scad.edu

Josh:

jl3456@columbia.edu