Saturday, March 12, 2011

Not Counting The Time Alive

    .
    It's funny.

    This evening I am working on my computer, listening to music, writing away when my Internet drops again. Yep. Dies right out. So I'm left sitting there like some idiot, with my fingers on the keyboard wondering what the Hell happened? It seems to be the same issue as was before, with the modem not being able to lock on the signal of the router. It just blinks incessantly. Pisses me off, right? So I get on the phone again and wait for these fucks to get on and they tell me that they've scheduled someone to come and look at my line three days from now.

    I don't believe these guys. They can only schedule someone to look at your line connection five and six days away. I laughed at the woman who told me that the first time. Do you realize, Angelmouth that this is Thursday and you're telling me the earliest you can get someone to me is Friday? She was stunned by the question. Maybe she was stunned that I called her Angelmouth. Whatever, I did what I was told, and left and got another modem. But this evening, that's bullshit. It CAN'T be the modem again. I just replaced it.

    I turn the shit on and off, resetting it several times, but to no avail. The line was down. Someone would have to check through the entire line to make certain that nothing was loose. The only thing I can think of is this butt connection in the wall that the last technician made when that old fuck next door cut my goddamn line. This patsy, instead of reconnecting the line to my wall plate, adds a length of cable that was unnecessary and leaves behind an inch of hardware in my line. Maybe this is posing the problem.

    Well, after rebooting the modem several times, I pulled the entire device out of my network and laid it to rest on my bed. Fuck it. Maybe, without the modem on the line talking to the routers in the cloud, the routers there will reset. So I left the damn thing off for about 15 minutes and then went back to reconnecting it to the network, and the bitch worked. Fuck me!

    I got back on the Internet and stayed on it for the rest of my night. Nights which are getting more stranger to deal with. My body is winding down . I don't have the energy that I did before and I'm sleeping too often. This is annoying. I look at my pills, which are filling my pill bottle and I see the newest Wellbutrin pills are large and pink. The ones before them were large and white, and the ones before those were simply small and white. Why so many iterations of the same fucking pill?

    I have to take the shit to the Duane Reade Pharmacy to see if these fucks didn't give me some fucked up female hormone, or heart rate fuck-wit pill. Simple shit. They can't seem to get my pills to me on time, maybe they are proving that they can't even get my fucking pills to me at all. This could be a problem, especially if I'm not on top of it.

    Well, I'll take care of that soon. Right now, I'm going to enjoy my time online, and get ready to deal with the arrival of the repairman. I'm certain that he's going to find nothing wrong and get up and go home without doing shit, and that's not going to happen. Not on my watch. I'm going to have him remove that butt connection from the wall and call it a day after that shit. Because I know, one day after his walking out of the door that damned connection is going to start failing all over again. That's a piece of crap.

    Five days for these motherfuckers to schedule you out a repairman. And he's going to just walk in and out and do nothing? That's bullshit.

    I cross my arms over my chest. Bullshit.

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