This morning, I woke up at five a.m. to queue up for my new iPhone 3G, which went on sale at eight. By nine, I was bitterly disappointed to learn that because of my bizarre business service plan, I would have to order it through my business rep, who is about as intelligent as a dead leaf. Since the dead leaf had told us the day before that we would be able to make our purchase in the store with no problem, this was disappointing. Luckily for the dead leaf, he was not taking or returning calls today. I have been trying to find a target for my building ire and none of my other options have been very satisfying; the dead leaf has escaped my wrath for now. Instead, I typed some snippy emails to my accountant and got into a half-hearted flame war on my neighborhood bulletin board, but what I am really looking for is someone to dismember a la that guy on “Dexter.”

My uneasy feeling from the other day has exploded into a mood so foul it defies description. It’s not because of the iPhone. I love my old iPhone and my only reason for craving the new was to be a part of that unique Apple hoopla that tends to fade after a few days after a new product has been released. Sadly, I have very few other joys in life, so I don’t think a couple hundred dollars is too much to spend every year or two on that pursuit. I don’t know what’s wrong other than that many things have not been going my way and the people to whom I have stood up for myself have managed to make me even more feel ridiculous. The only good thing is that I had a rolfing session this morning that cured my incipient carpal tunnel syndrome and I’ve been able to stop wearing that uncomfortable brace.

Anyway, don’t cry for me, Argentina. I’ll be all right in a few days. Until then, perhaps you should contemplate this chupacabra, brought to you fresh from the labs of George W. Bush, Super Genius.