5:30 am, my phone rings.
Me: (weak) Hello?
God:Oh my me, can you believe who they chose for the new pope?
Me: What time is it? It's still dark out.
God: Time is meaningless, Damon.
Me: You know I got to be late last night, G, it's (looks at clock) Five thirty in the morning.
Me: Why didn't you call me at work, or at least wait until my alarm went off.
God: How do you know I didn't have something important to tell you. I am God, you know.
Me: I know, but you know I had two beers before I went to sleep.
God: I'm not your mom, Damon... well I am in that God is everything and everywhere sense.
Me: Okay, so I had fifteen beers last night and six tequilla shooters... spread out over six hours, mind you.
God: And I saw you hitting on that girl too, she ain't even hot.
Me: And who's fault is that?
Me: Look, I don't really care about Benedict.
God: Me either. FACE, Benedict.
God: All right I'll call you later.