From God’s mailbag to the pages of the Free Press

Dear God,

Just dropping you a little note since we haven’t spoken for a while. Unless you count that midterm I took last week, but that’s more like a wave and a “Hello, how are you? Please don’t let me fail cause I spent all of last night looking at Calvin and Hobbes comics instead of reading,” instead of a true conversation. (Speaking of the midterm, seriously God, an 85? I think you and I need to work on our communication skills).

Just wondering, exactly how many songs do the angels know on those harps of theirs? Is it all Top 40 hits or is there some death metal and ska mixed in there? Being in heaven I’m sure you don’t hear much gangsta rap, but believe you me, I’m sure “Cop Killa” sounds awesome on a lyre.

Anyway, hope everything in heaven is going well. Meet any cool people? I’m sure you’re doing a great job of keeping Elvis away from the nachos and JFK from hitting on Jessica Tandy, but let me dive into the many thoughts and questions running through my mind during lectures:

It’s almost patronizing of me to tell you what’s going on down here, but I’ll humor you. Silber says TV is bad for us kids. Of course it’s bad if you have to squint to see Ally McBeal. And do you know what kind of leg cramps I get holding the antennae for all of Survivor? Maybe he’s still bitter about not beating Bob Barker out for that “Price is Right” gig. Can you send him some seraphims in the middle of the night telling him Boston University students will only use clear reception to watch educational PBS programming like “Mr. Bean”?

I’d also like if you could put in a good word to the Housing Lottery fairy for me. I’d love to live in that glorious place known as the Village (oh, I’m sorry “The Residence at 10 Buick Street”). Shelton isn’t bad, but I’d much rather live in a place where the windows don’t open and where I have a wonderful view of either CVS or the MassPike. I also won’t get in trouble for having a coffee maker or have to pay $70 for Rack Raisers. But I will have to pay about $70 for toilet paper so I guess it all evens out.

Hmm, what else? Can you please make people stop asking if I’m a natural blonde? That whole curtains/rug joke is getting pretty old.

Also, am I wasting my time doing all those crunches every night? If I’m not going to get Janet Jackson abs, then what’s the point?

Why is BU 75 percent female? I don’t care how hard you press the issue I am not going out with anyone from MIT or Boston College. I have standards and they have TI-84s and herpes.

Money would also be a good thing to have. Not a lot. I don’t want to be greedy, but I want just enough to know I won’t end up begging outside of Landsdowne Street after I graduate. Or at least enough to buy that new Mustang I want.

Could you give “Office Space” an honorary Oscar? I mean, “Beavis and Butthead Do America” won’t give Mike Judge the glory he deserves.

I also know my father has probably been praying to you a lot about our whole “tongue piercing” talk he and I had over Spring Break. If it’s not too much trouble, could you please trick him into thinking I had no clue what he was talking about when he said “Do you know what MEN will think about you?”

I know you and the angels have a rip-roaring good time up there when you make me lose my key and ID at least five times a day, but could we cut this down a bit? If I’m going to be late for class, I want it to be for a valid reason, you know, like beating the final boss of Super Mario RPG.

Finally, please stop Hootie and the Blowfish from making CDs and bring back episodes of “The Snorks.”

I guess that’s it for right now. Thanks for splitting up Tom and Nicole for me. Oh, and tell Jesus I said hi. It was really nice of Him to die for my sins and all that. Remind me to send him a fruit basket.

Gotta go, big night of studying ahead of me.

Ha! You know when I’m lying, right?

Love, Lynley