If Jesus Is Going to Take the Wheel, Here’s Some Other Things I’d Like Him to Take

Jesus, Take My Taxes

If Jesus is going to take the wheel, I’d also like him to take my taxes. He doesn’t even need to file them on TurboTax or tell the IRS any of my business, he just needs to take them away so I don’t have to think about them. Maybe he can turn them into water and then turn the water into wine, and then I can drink my tax returns with an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

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Jesus, Take My Car to the Mechanic the Check Engine Light Is On

If Jesus is going to take the wheel, he might as well take the car to the mechanic and see what’s going on with that check engine light. I took it to the dealership but they tried to con me into getting the oil changed. I’m no fool. I know the oil only needs to be changed every 100k miles. Anyway, the check engine light is on and the muffler is dragging on the ground. It would be great if Jesus could get the old junker looked at.

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Jesus, Write In My Journal So My Therapist Stops Telling Me to Try Journaling

If Jesus is going to take the wheel, maybe he can also write in my journal for 30 minutes a night while he drinks the $18 jasmine tea I bought in Soho but don’t like, but have to keep drinking because it was $18 and that’s insane. My therapist wants me to try writing in a journal for 30 minutes every night, and lying to my therapist is a moral entanglement that I don’t think I’m emotionally ready for. Maybe he can write about how shitty my car is.

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Jesus, Pick up Soy Milk on Your Way Home

If Jesus is going to take the wheel, maybe he can also pick up soy milk on his way home from getting the car’s oil changed, the muffler fixed, and buying me a journal at Target. But I need Jesus to remember that it has to be soy milk. Regular milk makes me nauseous. And almond milk used to be fine, but now every time I drink it I can’t stop thinking about almonds in a blender screaming. Disturbing, I know. That’s why I don’t drink almond milk. I told my therapist about the screaming almonds and she asked if I had journaled about it. Now you’re starting to see the predicament I’m in.

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Jesus, Find Me a New Therapist

If Jesus is going to take the wheel, he can also find me a new therapist. Maybe whoever he goes to. If they can help a guy through being nailed to a cross and then rising from the dead, they’d probably have better advice than fucking journaling.

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Jesus, Parallel Park for Me

If Jesus is going to take the wheel, I don’t see why he can’t parallel park while he’s at it. The last time I tried, the muffler ended up dragging on the ground. He already fixed that, and unless he wants to fix it again, it’s probably for the best that he does the parallel parking while I sit in the passenger seat telling him he’s doing it all wrong.

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Jesus, Train for a Marathon for Me

I don’t particularly want to run a marathon, but I think it might be healthy for my personality. If I’m training for a marathon, or having Jesus train for a marathon on my behalf, then when Harriet from works asks what I’m doing over the weekend, instead of being honest and saying that I’m drinking my taxes turned wine while watching Grey’s Anatomy, I can tell her I’m actually running 26.2 miles. Jesus can wear shoes if he wants.