what would Jesus do

I asked Tommy, “What’s that word for that really bad thing that’s going to happen one day? You know, the alien invasion thing?” And he says, “The Apocalypse?” And I’m all “YES!”

by Shauna on November 12, 2009

I’d like to think I’m a simple girl.

I mean, I grew up eating spam sandwiches and spaghetti out of a box for Christ’s sake. I’m not asking for a lot. (Shut up)

What I really want more than anything? A TV that turns on and off, has channel up and down, and volume control. I don’t need it to do my taxes or bring me to orgasm (that is what the blender is for–the orgasm, NOT the taxes).

Anyway, when we moved into this house five years ago, Tommy had absolutely no interest in the design, layout, color scheme or functionality of the house. It was my project and mine alone.

Except for the TV situation.

We have the most complicated television watching experience on the planet.

Period.

And even worse? No one knows how the fuck to work them–any of them. Not even Tommy.

True story.

It’s a complicated algorithm but basically you point the remote to your chin while pressing the ON button, hold your breath, lift your right leg, and in your head name as many fruit as you can in 30 seconds. That usually gets you to channel 2. Which is the Spanish channel. No offense to Spanish people, but I don’t understand what you’re saying or why you’re so dramatic. It might be Escamas Heladas to you, but it’s just Frosted Flakes to me.

Anyway, recently there’s been a problem with the entire “Televisioning System” which is code for “It’s totally FUCKED.” More importantly? It looked like I wouldn’t be able to watch Top Chef. Someone call 911.

I came home to find that the closet which houses the Broadcast Equipment was smoking and making guttural sounds that I first mistook as our cat being on fire.

If only the cat thing had been true. (Sorry Sadie, but we’re talking Top Chef! And The Daily Show! And PBS! You sit there on the couch, shaking your head and judging me–don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking–Yes, I showed my boobs on the Internet–So what)

Without hesitating, I reached in, unplugged everything, and stood there in anticipation of the Apocalypse.

The lights that once flickered green, red, and blue, went blank.

And just like that a little piece of me died inside.

Tommy came home then and I called him over to the closet.

*Before* the blackout

*Before* the blackout

I pointed at the massive mass of mess and said, “Well? What are you going to do about THIS?”

He reached inside, grabbed the plug and jammed it in the outlet. “There. Fixed.”

It was hard to not stab him in the eye socket with my pointy heel of my shoe. For real.

“*I* unplugged it, you idiot. It was making these weird grindy noises. Like it was about to explode.”

“Did you call the TV programmers?”

*Only WE have TV programmers*

“Um, no.”

He loses interest then and starts to walk away.

“Hey, Hey, Hey, buddy. Whereya going?”

“I’m tired, Shauna. I don’t care if the TVs don’t work.”

“Yes. But do you want to have sex with me ever again?”

“I’ll call the TV programmers.”

Thank you.

By the way, the TVs totally work again.

That Tommy, he’s no dummy.

PS. Tommy says I’m using the word Apocalypse wrong. If that’s the case, how’d he know what word I was talking about?

{ 10 comments }

Something Jesus would never do

by Shauna on August 13, 2009

An open letter to the sicko at Chili’s who has forever ruined my dining out experience,
Um, hi.
So you’re single, huh.
Oh, I don’t know this for a fact, but I’m guessing. You weren’t wearing a ring, but I’ve learned that doesn’t mean anything. I’m assuming you’re single because I can’t imagine how any woman you tried to date or be married to would be OK with you TRIMMING YOUR NAILS AT THE TABLE.
Dude, what the hell?
You know that expression were you raised in a barn?

Well you my friend make barn dwellers look like the queen of fucking England.
Seriously, what part of Welcome to Chili’s, table for one? Right this way, Sebastian will be with you in a moment, enjoy your meal, made you think that was code for and while you wait, why not pick this opportunity to snap off your filthy fingernail bits so they fly can across the aisle and land on other patrons’ tables.
HUH?
If there’s ever been a justifiable reason to stab someone, you sir, have earned it.
You know I couldn’t eat after that, right? I mean, I had a perfectly delicious cheeseburger with everything, hold the mayo, and ranch dressing on the side, right in front of me and then BAM! Just like that–appetite, lost.
You suck. You know that right?
And you’re never, EVER, in your lifetime going to get laid. I promise.
And you know why? Because you’re DIS-GUST-ING.
I’ve got 2 words for you: Bleck!
Oh, that’s only 1 word? Hmm. Funny. You know how to count but you don’t know that you’re not supposed to clip your nails in a restaurant when other people are eating? My 4 year old knows that and he eats crayons for cryin out loud!
What are you, the stupidest person on the planet? Who can’t get laid?
(hurts hearing that twice in the span of 20 seconds, doesn’t it)
I don’t know what else to say to you except thank you. You actually did me a favor. See, I haven’t worked out in a couple of days because I’ve been busy NOT clipping my fingernails in public and so eating that cheeseburger and fries would have caused major calorie overload.
But that’s not the point.
The point is I hope you’ve learned your lesson. I hope this letter makes you stop and think, “would Jesus clip his nails at Chili’s?”
And dude, the answer is NO. And do you know why? Because Jesus is a stud.
You should learn from him.
And fix your hair! You look ridiculous.
Sigh.
(waiting for my blood pressure to drop to a normal level)
So what have we learned today? A) It’s NOT OK to trim your nails in a restaurant, and B) I will never be able to eat a cheeseburger without thinking its covered in your fingernails, and C) That you’re never going to convince/trick a girl into sleeping with you.
The truth hurts. I feel your pain.
Not really. I actually CAN have sex if I want to because I’m not gross.
But if your goal is to NOT have sex then you’re totally on the right track.
Good luck to you and your not-ever-having-sex thing.
Signed~
A former lover of cheeseburgers who is forever scarred.
PS. I hate you.
PPS. But Jesus doesn’t. Jesus loves you. But then again, he has to. He loves everybody. It’s the law. But he does love you less than say, oh I don’t know, non-public-fingernail-clipping-people.

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{ 33 comments }