Dear Goddess, God, Intelligent designer, Creator or the geek operating the controls for the sims game I'm in.
I can understand Sun to make flowers grow.
I can understand rain to give the trees a drink.
Won't somebody up there think of my hair. I woke up this morning looking like a demented squirrel with its paw stuck in a power outlet.
I can't help sweating the little things, it takes my mind off the important ones like my television finally dying. Thirty-one years of devoted service and it had the nerve to die on me. Thankfully I had a spare which is only half that age and it took the Brick Outhouse 15 minutes to hook it up and get it running through the VCR remote. I was back in business for Veronica Mars.