Yesterday my coworkers and I got into in-depth discussion of The Secret. Which led me to conclude, without having ever cracked the cover, that it's some kind of new age tripe that begs to be made fun of. I happily obliged them.
Not believing it, hasn't stopped me from having conversations with the universe. Last night, after stepping on my new sunglasses and getting another parking ticket, I stood in the middle of my kitchen and was all "Listen Universe, I just don't think today was your best work, dawg. I mean, you've got 13 billion+ years of practice, I expect more from you at this stage of the game. Today just didn't do it for me."
Apparently, I DO believe that conversations with Universe require channeling Randy Jackson. Who knew.
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1 comment:
This has tickled me something awful! I keep giggling-- my coworkers are gathering around to see what's up-- I love the title of your blog! It's what made me click over from bibliocrick, but this first post, which is the only one I've read so far, is enough to bring me back again. Thanks for a Monday morning laugh. I needed it!
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