Dear Jesus,

I try to be a good person but why is it so hard? Today, I went to a nice Superbowl party and spent most of it in the kitchen at the host’s computer, listening to Mrs. Palin talkin’ about runnin’ for President.

People walked past me, wondering why I was looking at Mrs. P. I explained that she is the wind beneath my wings. I knew I should have been socializing, but when I did, I made someone cry by telling her about my personal difficulties. The hostess made another fabulous nine-layer Jello and gave me some to take home.

At home, there were chores to do and messes to clean up. Instead, I went back to the computer and read more about Mrs. Palin. Why did she allow her hand to be photographed with stupid reminders written on it? Is she really that stupid retarded? Is it some sort of conspiracy? Is she trying to connect with her “base” by showing that she’s too gosh-darn dumb to remember her three talking points?

And then, Jesus, I went to look at Mom of Shoes, who is boasting about her “find” on eBay: a pair of Chanel Ponyhair boots for $1,199 plus shipping.

Why, Jesus?! Why do I sully myself with the folly of others, when I shoud be looking for a job or washing the dishes? Why can’t I get my priorities straight?

I’m already full of Effexor, so I can’t increase my dose. I think I’m looking for escape. I know I’m looking for escape. I can’t hold my liquor, so that’s out.

Can I use my stress and depression as an excuse to scroll through Mom’s eBay purchases…55 in the last month alone, mostly comprised of tragically ugly animal-themed costume jewelry?

Show me the way, Jesus. Give me a sign. Just don’t fuck with my Internet connectivity.