I hope you like her as much as I do.
I wonder if that's your real name. I wonder if wondering if that's your real name is a sin. I bet it is. I just hope your actual name isn't Larry. Because who names their kid Larry anymore. Terrorists. Terrorists probably still name their kids Larry. And Republicans.
Anyway, I've been doing great, and mostly suicidal. I love how you created our beautiful planet, with all its creatures, and my fixed rate mortgage so I would be able to afford my home. Because we all know if it was just adjustable rate mortgages, it'd be 2008 all over again. I disapprove of your taste in men because most of the ones you sent us are dickheads. There are some decent ones, so whatever happened to homogeneity, and quality standards. I am not going to comment on the female part of the population, it's not that type of prayer.
By the way, you remember Karen from 4th grade? Yeah, whatever happened to her.
I've been thinking a lot about you, Lord. Mostly when I sit bored at work. Deborah from Finance is a fucking bitch though, am I right? I've been practicing my kindness skills. Mostly when I'm alone. I was going to ask you whether fuller women will be in style again, or should I still lose those five lbs, but I understand that fashion is a fickle thing, and you simply don't know yourself.
I pray a lot to you...who am I kidding, we both know I don't. Still. It would be nice to receive a response. You could start this conversation first, I'm pretty sure you're heavily invested in this relationship also. I'm not asking for a burning bush, mostly because I don't appreciate burning objects around me. But a solid 5% annual salary increase would be nice. Regardless, I respect your prerogative. This last sentence has too many Rs in it.
I wonder if I’m a kind person. Mostly because I tend to say that I’m a kind person a lot. And that philosophy class in college was pretty much useless. I did get an A in it, and that helped with my average, so I see your point.
I hope you’re not mad at me for that one time when I farted in church. If anything, I was only a child. Although this flatulence problem seems to have grown with me, and it’s quite a problem to deal with, as an attractive woman. I guess we all have our crosses to bear. Speaking of which, I hope your son is doing great. We still very much remember him, especially around Christmas time. Easter – not so much, it’s mostly bunnies now.
I wonder if aliens exist, and if you guys are mutually exclusive. I hope not. I’d love for all of us to get along. And in that case, have they made contact with you, Lord? It’s mostly just a bunch of speculation down here on Earth. And truth be spoken, it’s not like we could afford any aliens right now. Not in this economy.
I strongly hope there is no hell because all my analysis thus far suggests that I might be going straight into it. Or in case there is hell, it is strongly exaggerated. Like Dante was such a diva. No disrespect to Dante, I highly regard his literary talent. I even once did a funny play script, remake of Inferno, in college. It was glorious, the whole class laughed while holding their bellies.
I don't call my mom that often. I wonder how many hell points this equates to. I mean is the correlation in this statistic directly proportional, or is it more of a parabola thing. I hope it's not exponential. This probably makes no sense whatsoever. My math skills are rusty.
I remember them telling me you're all forgiving. In that case, why bother with rules? Truth be told, we don't follow them much any more. I mean, with the invention of Netflix and Twitter it's been increasingly difficult to retain moral integrity.
Anyway, forgive me?
Truthfully, your lost soul.
P.S. No regrets, motherfuckers.