Are You There, God? It's Me, Marietta.

I know you've been there for me more times than I can count: Like when you pushed Little Johny From Upstairs' cat in front of a car so I didn't have to show him my cha-cha. And the time you let me pass off "Immigrant Song" as a sonnet in 12th grade English because I came to class unprepared. Most of all, that BGP in celebration of your son's birthday....

But please, let September get here with the quickness so I can become a housewife. This city wears me down.