Granted, every today is now the day after and you are always too late for everything

I wish they didn't blow up stuff outside my bedroom window (or inside the building)

Many genies would come up with something about them blowing things up inside your window.
Not this genie, brother!

Granted.
Nothing can blow up either without your window or within your building.
The consequences of this are many and ranging, but your most pressing is the seagulls.
Every seagull is fed solpadeine wrapped in bread, which resulted in their stomachs filling rapidly with gas.
Being unable to either fart or explode the seagulls, in excruciating torment, look for the source of their misery.
It's you.
Thousands of inflated seagulls invade your home, and they take your balls.
They take your balls!

I wish I had a nikon camera.

Granted, you had, but it got stolen and you miss it so you go completly insane.

I wish Vista didn't F up all that much

Granted. Now, it succeeds in taking control of your computer and using it to commit bad computer stuff, like pirating, and animal porn.

I wish nukes were never invented, because it KILLS a lot of PEOPLE, because when nukes hit, people DIE. THEY DIE. PEOPLE DIE FROM NUKES.

Granted, nukes have never been invented, they are non-existent.
In stead there are now nokies.
Those are small, and kill only one peep by one.
Guess who is the first victim of such nokie?
Yes, right, chadtherodentslayer is that victim.

I wish chadtherodentslayer would be slew by a rodent.

*chadtherodentslayer just got pwned by dosraider*

i wish i didnt have to copy paste chadtherodentslayer's name

Granted, now you type it out everytime. You get repetitive strain injury which turns into gangrene and all you fingers drop off.

I wish that my tooth didn't hurt.

Granted. Your tooth doesn't hurt.
Your teeth hurts now.

I wish I could see Lulu_Jane's eyes.

Granted, you see her eyes. Unfortunately she's related to Mr. Walker/The Phantom and thus you die.

I wish those critters across the yard didn't have to have their parties cranked up to volume 11 every weekend.

Granted. Instead of partying and all the youth-like whatnot, they become hippies and keep splashing animal blood on you and shouting song lyrics that have nothing to do with the situation at you every time you come out of your place of residence.

I wish that maybe, just maybe, The Rolling Stones would finally die. It's not that I don't like them, it's just that they must be suffering. Seriously, have you seen them recently? I mean, come on. They might actually be dead already, but it's not like anyone could tell. It's not personal, it's a mercy killing.