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HUMOR
Jesus Is My Roommate
I don’t think this is going to work out.
Jesus, you know I don’t like having these meetings any more than you do. But something’s got to change or you’re going to have to move out. And no, you can’t come back. Not tomorrow, not next week, not 2000 years from now. Never.
Yes, I know, you make dinner almost every night. But Jesus Christ, all you know how to make is fishes and loaves. And the fish are just, like, lying there. And what am I supposed to do with the loaf, make a sandwich? Make a sandwich with a whole fish? How about a hamburger once in a while?
By the way, I think the plural of “fish” is just “fish”. I don’t know where you got “fishes”. And why can’t you just say “bread” instead of “loaves”? It’s weird. Every time we go to the store it’s, “They’re out of my favorite loaves,” and “Excuse me, where are the loaves?”
Jesus, just say bread.
And would please, please stop turning all the water into wine. For one thing, we’re going through Brita filters like crazy — do you have any idea how much those cost?
And more importantly, I can’t come home from the gym and rehydrate with rosé. I can’t chug a Hydro Flask of pinot grigio while I’m out on a run. I can’t take one more bath in zinfandel. It was cool…
