God is trying to tell me something.
Every once in a great blue moon, God tries to give me advance warning that I’m about to do something stupid. Like that time when I lived in Jersey City, and spent twenty minutes one morning hunting around for a pair of flip flops to wear to work (god I miss college. And non-profits). Apparently, that was his way of saying “these shoes will not provide you sufficient traction to a) avoid falling down a flight of stairs OR b) evade a mugger.” Unfortunately, I did not heed this warning; with disastrous results (The biggest insult was the mugger was openly upset that I only had $2 and no credit cards – um, hello, I live in Jersey City! I don’t pay $400 a month for rent so I can stockpile cash in my 401(K)… I’m poor, Jackass!).
God tried to warn me again recently when I recently got new cell phone (which I named Meinie) … However, he chose to do it through Sprint, which despite being a major telecom company, is not the best way to get a message across. Disguising himself as a text from Sprint, God asked me if I wanted to back up the phone book I had just inputted into the phone. I chuckled, and cockily (stop laughing, Jeff) clicked no. Then I did it five more times (I’ll say this much for God. He’s persistent). After all, why would I pay money for something that I can just do myself (I know, it doesn’t even sound like something I’d say, does it)?
Then my new phone Meinie died – well, it actually didn’t die, but the talk button stopped working, and when the talk button on your cell phone doesn’t work, you basically just have a beeper. Since I wasn’t a mid-90s drug dealer, I decided to do something about it (I know, that doesn’t sound like me either). As a side note, I fully expected the good people at the Sprint Store to make me pay for a brand-new handset, especially since, when I gave it to the technician, she snottily alluded to user error, which is not covered under the warranty. And, though I spent the 10 minutes I was in the store trying to mentally crush her head with my two fingers, I didn’t say anything, and waited to see how it played out (Now that definitely doesn’t sound like me). Turns out, it was a faulty device, and they gave me a new phone free of charge. I know – I was shocked too.
Sadly, my original phone Meenie, who courageously held out during the entire debacle, decided to completely die moments after I turned in the new one (Meinie) for the new-new one (Moe), and now I have lost my entire phone book. Sadly, this story doesn’t have a point or a moral, as, when I was inputting numbers into Moe (do you get it yet?) and was asked if I wanted to back up, I still selected no. But this time, I wrote the numbers down. Take that, God. My house is going to burn down now, isn’t it? You are a clever one.
PHOTO: "Hello, this is Jesus. Is Erin there? Yes, I'll hold...."
I recently went to see a live taping (yes, I know -- why must I have so many literary friends who taunt my turn of phrase?!?!) of a Comedy Central special for 
Let me say this as clearly as I can: No matter how sharp a grievance or how deep a hurt, there is no justification for killing innocents.
If my critics saw me walking over the Thames they would say it was because I couldn't swim.
