ladycaviar

Dear Jerk:

I hope you enjoy my watch. I hope you love it as much as I did. I hope you particularly love the brand new leather band I just put on it. It took me 14 years to find that watch, can you appreciate that? Did you know that a watch with a moon phase dial is called a complication, and is a ridiculously difficult item to find in the 21st century, when no one appreciates watchmaking anymore? And I'm not talking one of those ridiculous day/night dials, either -- I can tell whether the sun is up, for god's sake, I don't need to look at my fucking watch for that.

I'm choosing to see this action of yours as a gift to you, so that you might appreciate fine art when you steal it. Enjoy. Savor it. You only have a finite amount of time on earth to love that watch before you fry in hell. As for me, this is my message to me not to settle, that really I was meant to have the Patek Phillippe that has my name on it, the beautiful exquisite culmination of horological artistry that requires a true connoiseur to appreciate, and not some moral-free Philistine who walks off with other people's timepieces. I will, however, have to wait until the Lottery Fairy comes to visit. Harrumph.

The only regret I have is that had I known you would feel a need to take my watch, I would have refrained from putting a lovely new strap on it. You could have appreciated it just as well with the old fake lizard band with the broken buckle.

Fuck you.

[I see this sort of thing is rampant:

fosveny was recently liberated of the burden of his lawnmower.]