Sunday, March 26, 2017

Birthday Wishlist

Dear God,

First of all, I'm sorry for submitting this wishlist to you several days after my actual birthday. If you really are omniscient as they say, I suppose you already knew that I got drunk early (around 8 a.m.) on my birthday and didn't regain my sobriety until the following morning. And then, you know, life happened so I haven't been able to make time to create this list until now.

Also, sorry for not having been convinced of your existence.....even at this very moment. But I'll ask for your assistance anyway just out of desperation.

Please grant me Pilates superpower. Make me a better teacher than Joseph Pilates himself. I'm sure you are aware that I'm severely incompetent at everything else in life. I mean, for me, going a day without spilling my food or putting  my clothes on inside out is quite a miracle. You know I once believed I was a pretty good writer. I even went to grad school and got a degree in Creative Writing. But look at this blog, God. Look at it. I'm lucky the university is kind enough not to revoke my degree. Pilates is the one and only thing I might have a real knack for. And I've been working my butt off on it. I've been training so hard I can hear my trapezius and gluteus maximus scream obscenities at me in my sleep. So make this career happen, please.

For my kitchen, I'd love these 3 things:
1. Cookware, utensils and dishes that clean themselves right after use
2. A refrigerator that audibly reminds me a few days before something in it is about to become stinky, moldy, or rotten
3. Masaharu Morimoto...well, maybe Bobby Flay and Marc Forgione, too....well, just give me all of the Iron Chefs except Geoffrey Zakarian.

For my home spa, I want an infrared sauna, equipped with four pairs of biomimetic hands that can massage my whole body at once. I also want a needle projector that can launch its projectiles at extremely precise acupuncture points.

For my bedroom, I'd like to get a snore absorber and a dream eliminator, both of which are for my husband. As you know, I'm an insomniac. And it hasn't been very advantageous to share a bed with a chronic snorer who, once in a while, would jump up in bed and turn on all the lights because he thinks the giant spider in his dream is real.

Please make some size adjustment for my left and right boobs. Right now they're kind of lopsided.

Please allow me unlimited access to George R.R. Martin's brain.

Please give me Herculean pelvic-floor muscles...well, I guess that's part of my Pilates superpower. I apologize for being redundant.

Please give me a mastery in the art of not giving a shit. Well, I think I still want to give some shit, though. Let me rephrase. Please help me give a shit judiciously. And please grant me the strength to give absolutely no shit to things and people that ultimately don't matter.

I know I'm not supposed to use this occasion to ask for something with vengeful or malicious purposes, but you must understand that an acquaintance of mine has recently annoyed me quite a bit. And he is utterly clueless about my indignation. His oblivion is by far more disturbing than his wrongdoing itself. You know whom I'm talking about. Right, God? Right? Yeah, him. I'd really like you to take away one thing that matters to him tremendously: his lustrous beard. Make it all fall out in one night. Please also deprive him of the ability to regrow it. If he does try, let it be sparse, patchy and breathtakingly pathetic. But please have some mercy and spare his eyebrows, lashes, as well as his head and body hair. Without that beard, all he has left is his plain, dumb face. That's a harsh enough punishment already.

Now the last thing on my wishlist, dear God, is for you to go back and reread this from the beginning. I've made many detailed, specific requests. Please don't skip or overlook anything. Make sure you fulfill them all correctly. 

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