December 22, 2006
Opinion: Why Did I Ever Ask God to Smite Me with Brain Cancer?
Guest editorial by Heather Gliomador, cancer patient
After you broke up with me, Jake, things got a little crazy, and I said some things I regret that night.
Like how much of an asshole you were, and how that little bitch Meghan you hooked up with was a total slut, and a lot of other shit I don't remember because I got falling-down, stinking drunk.
But why, oh why, did I ever ask God to smite me with brain cancer?
Christ, if I'd have known He was actually listening for a change, I would have prayed for something more useful, like a BMW. Or at least I could have asked Him to pay you back with a nasty case of herpes or something.
But no. Not Heather. Heather had to go and stand in the rain, raise her arms to Heaven, and ask for a fucking medulloblastoma.
THIS sure was a great birthday present, I must say
Hey God - could You have recognized I was totally wasted, despondent about a breakup, and completely out of my gourd that night?
I have an urge to shout the phrase "FUCK ME" at the top of my lungs right about now, but I'm afraid Somebody will get the wrong idea. Again.
And no offense, oh Holy One, but I really do have a headache. Big time.
After you broke up with me, Jake, things got a little crazy, and I said some things I regret that night.
Like how much of an asshole you were, and how that little bitch Meghan you hooked up with was a total slut, and a lot of other shit I don't remember because I got falling-down, stinking drunk.
But why, oh why, did I ever ask God to smite me with brain cancer?
Christ, if I'd have known He was actually listening for a change, I would have prayed for something more useful, like a BMW. Or at least I could have asked Him to pay you back with a nasty case of herpes or something.
But no. Not Heather. Heather had to go and stand in the rain, raise her arms to Heaven, and ask for a fucking medulloblastoma.
THIS sure was a great birthday present, I must say
Hey God - could You have recognized I was totally wasted, despondent about a breakup, and completely out of my gourd that night?
I have an urge to shout the phrase "FUCK ME" at the top of my lungs right about now, but I'm afraid Somebody will get the wrong idea. Again.
And no offense, oh Holy One, but I really do have a headache. Big time.
Labels: cancer, God, medulloblastoma