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- Jaweed Kaleem, Huffington Post
All my friends think it would be so great being married to Jesus. "Oh, I bet he's a wonderful husband!" "You are so lucky!" Well, let tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be.
Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, and I love him and all. You can't help loving him. But still, he can raise the dead, but he can't remember to put down the seat. I'm like, you can walk on water, but maybe try sitting in it one time, and you'd show some consideration.
And the in-laws, don't even get me started on the in-laws. Mary's all, "My son, this... and my son that..." blah, blah, blah. It's like she worships the guy, like he was the son of God or something. She spoiled him rotten, and now who has to deal with it? Me. I'm always saying, "Close the door! What, were you born in a barn?" and he's like, "As a matter of fact, I was." That's how he is. He has to win every argument, he always has to be right. He'll be like, "Let me tell you a parable about these three servants," and I'm just, "All I want to know is did you remember to pay the landlord or not."
And his friends! Simon called Peter's okay. But Judas Iscariot kind of gives me the creeps. And John the Beloved is so dang emo, it makes you want to slap him. Not one of them has a job. They used to be fishermen, I think, but they all got laid off or something. How do you lose a job catching fish? Get a pole. Bam. Instant employment. Simon called Peter says they're fishers of men. Whatever that means. Where's the money in that, is what I want to know, but do they ever listen to me? Oh, no.
And they're always mooching off us. "Say, you got any of those left over loaves and fishes?" And everything Jesus says they treat it like it was gospel. "Wow! How does he keep coming up with these things? Someone needs to write this stuff down! How do you spell 'prodigal?'" All that sucking-up gets on your nerves after a while.
I'll give him one thing. He's good with the groceries, although I am getting a little sick of loaves and fishes. But don't ask him to do any yard work. I made that mistake one time. I got out and ask, "What's with the fig tree?" And he says, "It bore no fruit, so I withered it."
Wait for fig season, dumb-ass. But it was already too late.
Then the other night he comes home late, and I'm like, "Where've you been?" And he says, "Just hanging out with the guys." I say, "Was Mary there?" And he says, "Mom?" And I go, "No, not that Mary. The other one. Magdalene." I've seen how she looks at him. Whore. Anyway, he acts all innocent - he's always so innocent - like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but I'm pretty sure something was up. His feet were oily.
And cooking! He tries to help out, I'll give him that. The other night at supper, I said, "This is good. What is it?" "My body and blood," he says. Ugh. It's enough to make you eat loaves and fishes.
Don't get me wrong, like I say, he's a great guy and marriage is good, not paradise, but good. I just wish he'd get some new friends. Judas Iscariot comes byjust now and says, "Hey, have you seen Jesus around? I'm looking for him." I say, "He's gone to Gethsemane - let him mess up somebody else's garden, ha-ha. Who are all those Roman Centurions?" And Judas gets this kind of shifty look and is all like, "What Roman Centurions? Them? Oh, nobody."
I hope he don't get Jesus in any trouble. You got to be careful who you hang out with these days.
