Well, I’m fucked. It’s my wife’s birthday tomorrow and it snuck up on me like a guy in a trenchcoat on a drunken cocktail waitress in her apartment lobby at 3am, if you get my drift. Not only do I not know what she wants or needs, but I’m out of time. I work today. I’ve already been shopping and shopping and shopping. Some of the most unbelievable stores too. After this week, I’m pretty sure that I’m the only man in the history of penises that’s spent forty five minutes alone in Anthropologie. I didn’t even get anything there! That’s the real sack punch. I’ve been to so many stores that sell decorative pillows and cute soaps and hand towels and various other shit that men would never notice if it all suddenly stopped existing, but I haven’t found shit. It’s vexing to put it mildly. I should have just said, “hey, for your birthday I’ll go with you to bed bath and beyond and target and CB2 and Antrhopologie and all those spots you love and I’ll pretend not to be bored off my dick, and I’ll even pretend to have an opinion about the various bedskirts.” That would have been a good move. But no. Now I’ve been all those places and I got nothing. I’m thinking about giving her another coupon book redeemable for performing blowjobs on me any time, no questions asked, but, well, she’s already got a lot of those. Sigh.
We got a new cable box when our old one crapped out. The new one is from the future. It looks awesome. Yesterday, my wife came home and looked at the new box and went “wow! Look at that thing!” and I said “happy birthday!” which didn’t really work…since she’s the one who scheduled the technician and requested the new box, but I thought it was a pretty good try.
Man, this is hard! My baby still has to shop for her too, and he picks out absolute crap. I’m sick of standing around in the back of the candle store while he hunts for the perfect combination of lavender and sage, you know? It seems so detail oriented for not only a baby, but also for something that’s designed to melt. She always loves his gifts though, mostly just cuz he’s cute. It’s not fair. I have a mustache. I’ve had it for a month and I have to have it for another month due to the movie that I’m shooting. I cannot, with a mustache, compete with the cuteness of my baby who, let’s face reality, is just a younger more dynamic version of me anyway.
And speaking of my faded youth, (ha! Good pun) my birthday is on Tuesday. You all know what I like, so send your nudes to my inbox please. Ask anyone who’s sent me nudes already, I don’t share them with any third parties, so a donation to the great Bad Sandwich Chronicles Nudes Bank (or BSCNB) is as sound an investment as a war bond. Think about it. We also accept video.
And, while we’re on the subject of great institutions created by and/or for the greater BSC viewing community, how are all my little Dogs of War and my sock drawer anyhoo? I feel like we never just sit down and have a glass of wine or a coffee and just, ya know, talk anymore. It’s always rush rush, in out, up down, suck suck spit, pay leave, right? Right. We need to slow down and take some time just for us, don’t we? Yeah. And what better time than my birthday week. So send in those nudes and/or cash or creative gifts. It’s the least you could do on your poor, lonely old mother’s birthday. Nah, you know what? I’m sure you’re busy. Just think of me and call if you get…nah, forget it. I know you’re always out running around with those friends of yours. Who’s got time for an old fossil like me? Forget I said anything.