Thank you, Peace Corps

I am a firm believer in the afterlife tonight. Not because I attended church for the first time in three months this weekend, or even because I belted out a little “Kyrie eleison” during the tail end of it. Not even because during said trip to church, I managed to remember the ENTIRE Nicene Creed, even that pesky “we believe in one holy Catholic and apostolic church” part (apostolic? Somehow it sounds like an apple martini to me). I digress. I believe in heaven for one reason right now.

I am wearing the world’s most comfortable pair of pants, and they were given to me for two years of safekeeping by my amazing friend Mary, as she leaves our humble country for the Peace Corps. They are waffle knit, too-short, wide legged Gap Body loungers. Size LARGE, bitch. Even that doesn’t conjure up the full image of how sexy I look right now. Over Christmas, I stole these babies from her and wore them every day as I sat around reading and overdosing on James Taylor. The day I left, I had a fairly intense internal crisis, and almost stole them. The last ounce of integrity (and dignity) I have flooded in, and I returned them… only to find out they were in her giveaway pile when I came home this past weekend.

God, you do exist. For me, it’s not in the form of the dry, ill-tasting wafer I forced down on Saturday. Rather, you exist to me in the form of material possessions given to me in pity. I think at this point with me, you’ll take what you can get, eh? We’ll work on the apostolic part, and someday I’ll have Paul and the Corinthians as my first association. Until then, I’ll be wearing these pants thin, thinking about how many appletinis I could chug down without even having to readjust the drawstring.