One Set Of Footprints
I pray sometimes. I do. It sounds like a weird thing for a registered Democrat to do and heck, they might even kick me out of the party for admitting it, but I don't care; sometimes the world just gets too heavy to carry, you know? Sometimes you need to reach out, to push away from the distractions of everyday including the people around me always bothering me, bothering me, bothering me with their inane offers of non-deity help and I'm all: "Stop trying to help me, I'm praying, assface!"

This morning I prayed. I gnashed my teeth and beat my breast and pulled my hair out and wailed to the heavens imploring God to give me guidance and support, to show me a way forward when all paths seem thin and crooked and overgrown. Use my good intentions to pave the way to your holy power so that I might make people do what I want them to do!

My crisis of faith was precipitated by the departure of Katie Couric from the Today show this morning. If it weren't bad enough that our Katie was leaving us forever, I had to sit through eight hours (it was eight hours, right? It sure felt like it) of retrospective clips reminding me of everything I'd be missing.

Summer is coming and who will tell me what my "Summer Fashion No-Nos" are? How will I know if I should continue breastfeeding my three-year-old? Who else is going to take up the live-colonoscopy slack in morning television?

She's going. I can't believe she's going. I'm not sure I want to live in a world not lit and warmed by her light. Flowers do not bloom. Birdsong dies in the strangled throats of muted, joyless birds. All days are winter and I have only white shoes.

Sure, I could just flip over to CBS Evening News and see her every single day, but that's not the point.

My God, how I will miss her. The only thing keeping me from killing myself is the hard realization I made several years ago that it was really Matt Lauer I was masturbating to every morning, not Katie. So I still have that. And my Lauer/Roker slash-fic. But Katie was an integral part of my fantasy life as well. Now, in the stories I weave in my mind, who will wander on to the darkened set only to stumble upon Matt and Al 69'ing each other? Meredith Vieira?

Oooh...



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 8.9



Pops
- posted by Pops @ 9:17 AM