We all have issues, this I know. Some of us have more than others, obviously, but let's not point fingers at Michael Jackson all at once, mm'kay? Because that would be wrong. That being said, today I feel the need to share some of my issues, to vent my spleen, to lay down my heavy load of despair. I mean, what good is a blog... wait. "Vent my spleen"? Well, that's just plain disgusting if you think about it, now isn't it? Who made up that idiom? Fuh-reeeak. What will they think of next? "Purge my colon"? "Uncork my anus"? Gross. But I digress...
Okay, so first there's Verizon playing fast and loose with my internet connection. I tell you what, they can just kiss goodbye my vote for Internet Provider of the Year! You know, if there were actually an Internet Provider of the Year competition. Hey! It could happen! You don't know! Which, come to think of it, would be awesome because maybe Verizon would try harder and I'd get some actual customer SERVICE rather than twenty plus cumulative hours on the phone with one powerless, faceless factotum after another, each promising my connection will be reconnected in 24 to 48 hours, each with the brain capacity of a tsetse fly, and each turning out to be a Big Fat Liar because I STILL DO NOT HAVE AN INTERNET CONNECTION.
But if there were an award for Internet Provider of the Year-- the INPY, if you will-- when Verizon lost to Cingular or T-Mobile, I would laugh and point and give way to intense feelings of schadenfreude-- you know, of the I Just Heard That My High School Ex-Boyfriend Who Dumped Me For Slutty McPutsoutalot Is Fat, Bald, And Working As A Part-Time Car Salesman In Yuma variety?
Because I'm evil that way.
And as if it is not enough that my loss of connectivity to the World Wide Web has forced me to wander the neighborhood with my trusty little iFred, searching for a wireless internet signal (people STARE... it's quite rude, actually), guess what happens? Guess?! My trusty little car breaks down, that's what. (Okay, so that would make it my not-so-trusty little car. But let's not quibble. You know what I meant.)
Grrr... I hate cars. I hate parts of cars. I hate parts of cars that scrape and ping and die-- cough-graunch-wheeeeeeeze. You know why? Because they suck, that's why. And also because when cars break I have to visit a mechanic. And I hate mechanics. I hate mechanics who loom over me, clad in their greasy denim coveralls-- which are the sartorial equivalent of twirling one's mustache, making even the most depraved of movie villains look about as scary as Deputy Barney Fife-- saying things like, "Uh-oh, it's the thermostat slingbobber bearings and muffler widgets," "Hmm, or it could be a thrown bearing rod or head gasket thingamahoozer " or "Tsk, tsk... your car's slamhenger sensor is sending a false reading to your ECM, so give me lots and lots of money and then maybe I'll fix it but it will probably break down in two or three days and you will have to come back here and give me lots and lots more money, mwah ha ha ha!"
Except they never really add that last part but I seriously wish they would because that is the ONLY PART OF THE CONVERSATION I UNDERSTAND.
I know! No internet AND no car?! My world! It is spinning out of control! When will the madness end? No car equals catching the Metro at five o'clock in the morning, riding for an entire hour, then power-walking the half-mile from the station to my office building. So I have to wear... (this is so humiliating) I have to wear... I have to wear my athletic shoes, okay? Are you happy now? Athletic shoes! With a pencil-style skirt and matching blazer! It's, like, the mullet of professional attire: business on the top, party on the bottom. Ooooh, crash and burn on the metaphor. Um, business on top, ready for action on the bottom? Damn. So close... Honestly, it's a shame I shall carry forever. It's just that my toes get all scrunchy and blistery in my dressy shoes! And there are shin splints to consider, too. I'm not kidding. SHIN SPLINTS.
Oooh, and hey, while I'm at all this hatin', I also hate Costco Tire Center, but that is mostly because the smell of new tires makes me want to vomit, and only partially because the so-smokin'-hot-he-could-be-an-Abercrombie-model guy behind the counter is always extraordinarily rude to everybody in the shop. My best guess? Total Hotness Entitlement Complex, with a tinge of Career Dissatisfaction. But hey, that's his issue, not mine, so let him get his own frickin' blog. Moocher.
Aaaaah, now this is much better. The burden of my ill-temper has been lifted from my weary shoulders. No more hatin'. My spleen is splent. Won't TGIM be pleased?
Whatev. If I don't have my internet connection by tonight, heads will roll. Oh, yes they will. Mark my words, Verizon. Mark my words...
6 Comments:
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WILLIAM commented:
Verizon is like Count Ruegen.
"I've just sucked one yer of your life away. One day I may go as high as five."- » 3/13/2006 1:32 PM
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Not-So-Normal-Mom commented:
Love the quote from Princess Bride. To quote Beevis and Butthead, "This sucks more than anything that has ever sucked before." Godd luck with everything, Cat. At least you have a sense of humor!
- » 3/13/2006 2:26 PM
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Not-So-Normal-Mom commented:
I meant Good Luck! Duh!!!
- » 3/13/2006 2:27 PM
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Ern commented:
*crossing fingers for internet*
I don't know what I would DO if it weren't for my mechanically inclined husband. My dad tried to teach me how to fix my own car, but you know, I JUST DIDN'T CARE. It was boring! I gave up after learning the oil change and the tire change.- » 3/13/2006 2:34 PM
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commented:
meh, I only stuck around for the tire change and driving-in-ice and snow stuff.
Cat, you keep using that word...I do not think it means what you think it means.- » 3/13/2006 3:22 PM
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commented:
I always wondered what could possibly possess someone to wear sneakers with work clothes. Now I know...
:P- » 3/14/2006 9:36 AM