The Internets Broketh, and Lo, it SUCKED. But I got some things done while I was out of the Matrix. YES! I was productive!

1. Alphabetized/detailed contents of Adult Drawer.

2. Wrote scathing letter to Brown Cow Farms. Now they are giving us less yogurt for the same price and with no lid for saving the leftovers. Now they are backsliding by offering free lids. FOR SHAME, Brown Cow. You can’t change horses midstream. Lily would hang her head and moo forlornly if she knew. Or actually existed.

3. Was not able to click “refresh” on Oh No They Didn’t every fifteen minutes, and so had no idea about the doings and whereabouts celebrity No-No Places for a WHOLE WEEK.

4. I saw Joshua Norton, who is back, leaving Wales completely unprotected. I have not seen him in over two years. I drank bad wine and he drank good stout at Pies and Pints. That was probably one of the best parts of the holiday.

5. Found Jesus.

He was tearing off a be-phone numbered tab on an advertisement that read “JUMP START YOUR CAREER AS A HOME-STAGER TODAY” at the Wallingford Center. His clothes were mismatched and this seemed to distress him, so we went downtown.

He said that he appreciated my help but generally, he only traveled with women named Mary and / or women with flowing, non-chemically processed hair. I told him I saw his point, and realized that if there was any footwashing to be done, especially with something salty like tears, it would be likely that my hair would leave pink streaks on His Feet. We discussed this and he decided it would have to be accommodated for the time being. I told him it would wash right off the next time he hopped into the shower (sort of true).

Jesus attempted to veer into the pimp shop downtown, mumbling something about providing succor to lost souls, misguidedly looking to fill their lives with the empty promise of fauxligator shoes.

“But Jesus,” I countered, “I know that animal prints are wildly seductive. But I think we can get back to Your Work more quickly and with a less gaudy result if we shop at Nordstrom.”

Reluctantly, Jesus wrenched His Gaze from the velveteen fedoras and turned to face me. Finally, renouncing all animal prints true and false, Jesus nodded his assent and I offered to lead him to the land of fleece and practical shoes so he could cavort more credibly with the natives.

As we combed the Men’s Half-Yearly Sale racks, He spoke to me of the career opportunities in home staging. About how you can make someone’s dreams to get out of a house that has become a drab, mismatched half-remodeled millstone come true. About how you can make someone’s dreams of getting into a house that now has a coat of Mystic Mocha slapped on in the rumpus room and with those tastefully sterile wicker balls artfully displayed in elegant rustic bowls scattered here and there. It’s about making dreams come true, he said.

Jesus looked me in the face then, a pair of sage green Dockers held up between us that I had been urging Him to Try On. I think he expected me to fall down under the spinning rack of pants and change my name to Paul, or at least something rhyming with “SJ” (Jorge?). I’m not sure, though, because I was not paying attention to a lot of the religious parts in college unless they were dirty, and you know, most aren’t. Another of life’s disappointments.

The last time I saw Jesus he was heading into the men’s fitting room. He wanted to try on “just one more” sport coat. I could tell it was too narrow and was going pull in the back, but he was a Man on a Mission.

I lost Jesus. Jesus owes me $138 dollars, which has resulted in my precipitous slide back into agnosticism.

HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCHES!