Sunday Prayers With Babe Walker

When I was 11 there was this girl in my hebrew school class named Raquel Something who stole my Gucci slip-on sneakers (I’m actually not Jewish, but at that age I was really into Jewish boys, so my maid/nanny/bff, Mabinty, let me go. I guess she also let me buy Gucci sneakers). The point is Raquel stole my shoes and then WORE THEM TO MY HOUSE for an intimate Life Affirmation Party I was throwing for my dog after he had knee surgery. When I confronted her, she swore that they were hers but I knew she was lying and so did everyone else, including Maximo, my recovering pug, who pissed on them as she was trying to leave. Recent events (which I’m about to get to) have excavated this annoying story from the annals of my personal histories with girls who are annoying. Today I pray for Raquel.

I also pray for Whitney Cummings, whom I thought I could trust but now I’m unclear.

Ok, so you psychos know that I button every one of my posts/therapy sessions/text conversations/phone conversations with “Love you, mean it.” Yes? Well, then let’s all pray for Whitney, who has decided to call her new show Love You, Mean It. Coincidence?

Let’s pray that she can sleep with this decision. Let’s pray that karma doesn’t bite her in the ass like it did when Maximo pissed on Raquel’s feet. Good Luck, Whitney Cummings.

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