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Sixteen: The Saboteur.

Dear Diary:

Have been a total lesbo for three months, now. I'm not counting college, because everyone is a lesbian in college.

How is that for an opener. Ha ha.

Coda thinks I am writing a novel, but I am not, because I can not think of a story. I write and write and write for a week, but when I go back and read it again I find out I am just copying something I have seen before already.

Last week, I wrote The Smurfs, but it had a rape in it. I am not kidding.

I am uncreative and that is horrible, but Coda will not listen when I tell her this.

By the way, Coda is my wife. I am a girl with a wife. That is so weird.

She is not really my wife, but she already sort of is. We aren't legally married, but we will be, I guess.

Coda is not a bad person to want to marry. Really, she isn't. She's very smart, and she's very nice to me, and she cooks pretty good. I am seriously thinking about trying to love her. I just wish she was an interesting person.

Don't tell anyone I said that.

It's probably not fair, because Coda is interesting, but not in the right way. Coda is interesting the way Discovery Channel documentaries about gnu migrations are interesting. She is interesting like chess.

I don't know how to play chess.

Coda gets up every morning and does a half hour of aerobics. Then, she has bran cereal.

That is amazing. I did not know people really did that, but Coda does. She always does this. It is crazy. She is a robot.

Her job is poop inspection. That's what it is. I am not lying at all. People call her on the phone and ask her to come look at animal poop.

She went to college for this. And she really likes the job.

Playing with rhinoceros shit pays pretty good. It pays enough so that I don't have to work. I get to stay home all day. Coda says she is happy to do it, because she wants to support me while I "find myself." She talks a lot about "potential" and my "gifts," which I do not have. At first I thought she was maybe making fun of me, but she is serious. She thinks I am a great artist, and that I can play great music, and she says that one day, I'll be famous and she will be proud of me.

Ha ha.

Let me tell you about my day.

After I get up around noon, I eat too much. I am getting fat like a pig. Then, I fuck around with paint.

Real artists spend days and days in their studios. Me, I fuck around. It's not real painting. It's just fucking around.

The people who buy these things are retarded.

When I am done disgracing the easel, I go downstairs and disgrace the guitar.

Coda bought me a guitar. I am not even good. I do not know who is stupider, me or her.

I can play behind my back and things, and I make up little songs. But everyone does that, so who cares.

Then, I do housewife shit. Because that is exactly what I am. I am a god damned housewife.

I went to college and I graduated with honors and I am a fucking housewife, because I am too stupid to get a job. Good work, me.

Coda can not even knock me up to justify it. I am beyond pathetic.

Other than this, I do nothing. I do nothing all day, except maybe act like a spaz and break things. I am a huge liability.

If you think my life gets exciting again when Coda gets home from shit inspection, You would be wrong. we live across from the local community center, and we have enough money to buy a car and maybe go downtown every once in a while, but we do not.

Coda likes books.

So when Coda gets home, no nightclubs, no parties, no nothing. She wants to read. And that's what she does. We make dinner, and she reads, and I call friends and apologize because I have not seen them in a million thousand years because my wife is putting down roots into the couch cushions. They say it's fine, but I know they're laughing because we have become old ladies.

Sometimes I want to leave. I think about it when we're going to bed at night, about going away while Coda is asleep and just not being there tomorrow. I kind of think I would like it. It would be an adventure. But that would be stupid. This is a good thing I've got. I should stop being a bitch and enjoy it.

But Coda knows what I'm like. I have never been a stay-at-home person. I say she's smart, and she is, but really, about this one thing, sometimes she's a little dumb. This isn't fair to expect me to like this. If I just left, it would be totally unfair if she were surprised. I won't, though. I won't.

So my life is boring. Who cares. Besides me, anyway

Maybe that is why I was so weird yesterday.

I ordered groceries. But that was not the weird thing.

I ordered fifteen dollars worth of groceries. To have them delivered cost fifty dollars. But that was also not the weird thing. Stupid, but not weird.

Before the delivery person came, I changed my clothes.

I was so disappointed when the delivery person was a girl.

Before you think anything, you should probably know I was not going to do anything if she had been a boy. I wasn't. That would be idiotic. He would have been the delivery person. But I was still disappointed. I was nice to her, but I did not tip, so I guess I am a sexist. A sexist, or maybe distracted.

I have a new neighbor.

He says I should call him Hippy Davey, because that is what everyone calls him. He also says he lives in a commune in the neighborhood, which is funny. I didn't think there were any communes at all anymore. What is even stranger is that he is a doctor, not an organic kelp farmer or whatever. Doctors live in communes, now. The world is getting crazy.

I was very interested in talking to Hippy Davey, and I invited him inside.

I don't know why I did that.

So I guess that was the weird thing. But maybe it was not extremely weird. not really weird at all.

You know.

Coda was very surprised to find Hippy Davey in our house when she came home, but she was very polite. She even told him his guitar playing was very good, which it was not. He left before dinner.

I thought maybe Coda would get mad and yell some, but she was happy. She said I had been very mopey lately, and it was good that I was getting out and meeting people.

Ha ha.

-- Lil.


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