Okay, so in case you geniuses didn’t notice, there’s no picture for today. My camera can’t focus properly, and it’s going to take Amazon at least three days to send me a new one. I wanted to sign up for that Amazon prime thing, but wussed out when they asked for my personal preferences. I mean don’t they already know what I like and what I hate? Don’t they have that stuff logged in the computer? Are they trying to trip me up later when I apply for a government job and they bring up my Amazon profile that says I hate Stephen Speilberg movies, even though I clearly bought the Indiana Jones box set on my birthday because my stupid wife was too cheap to get me the one thing I asked for? Then they’re going to bring her up, and I’m going to say something dumb like “well I hate my wife and still got her,” or “do you guys know how to use battery acid to melt away candle wax?”
In case you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s what she got me for my birthday, candles. And not even the expensive kind, just some crappy manilla looking ones that are supposed to burn on both ends, like it was supposed to be some comment on how hard I work and play and how it was all going to disappear, like some kind of wax sandglass balancing between two opposites, namely my stupid wife and I. I remember her smiling when I opened them and asked if I wanted to light a couple for fun. Now I’m some kind of pyro who enjoys watching candles burn because it’s cool.
Here’s an idea, why don’t I light some candles on my birthday cake and then blow them out all over your stupid, non cake buying, DVD abstinent face? I asked her, “What the hell is wrong with you?” What am I supposed to do with these? And why the hell aren’t you finished getting dressed? Aren’t we supposed to go out to dinner or something? Aren’t we?” She didn’t talk to me for like two hours, ON MY BIRTHDAY. She wouldn’t even tell me where we were supposed to go to dinner, so I drove us to Outback, which is where I wanted to go anyway. For two weeks I kept asking her where we were going to go, and all she said was, “Don’t worry, you’re going to have a meal you’re never going to forget.” What the hell does that mean? How about a meal that I want? That would be something I wouldn’t ever forget. How about listening to me when I ask you something, and how about you respond every once and awhile?
But enough about her, she’s out of my life and the only thing I got out of it is this stupid condo and my stupid dog. Right now my stupid upstairs neighbor is vacuuming and it’s ten o’clock at night. Jesus, what the hell needs to be vacuumed at ten o’clock at night? I’ll tell you what, my stupid wife’s hair out of my stupid carpet. That and the candle wax in our bedroom. Okay, I’m tired of typing, my hand has a cramp. Tomorrow maybe I’ll get a picture with my phone.