Back to Basics

Now I know I’ve gotten away from my normal ‘how fucked up was my day?!?’ blog posts that made me famous to dozens of Canadians, a pile of Americans, and for some reason a bunch of people from Russia, Ukraine and Germany (dunka). I think that’s mostly cause I got sidetracked by a few personal things, a few professional things, a few unbelievable things, but fear not diligent readers! I’m back with a classic tale of I want to anger bang every employee of Bell/Videotron/whatever person decided to put this voodoo curse on me. At this point actually I’m fairly convinced there’s at least a dozen curses on me. Either that, or this, my 28^th year, is my trial year. I use the term trial year to describe the notion that this year is in fact trying to break me. I know this. I’ve accepted this. And you know what world? Imma fuck you up. I’ll take your surprise 23k lawyer bill. I’ll take the stalker. I’ll take the horrifying betrayal of loved ones. I’ll take the Habs for some reason slitting their wrists in the bathtub this ENTIRE GODDAMNED SEASON (I also believe my personal fortunes are directly related to how well the Habs are doing... seriously, I charted it out. It’s unreal how directly parallel it runs.) I’ll take the constant bills and late payments and delays. I’ll take the cold that won’t seem to leave me, the hydro bill, the riot tax, the constant jaywalking stings outside my office. I’ll take it all. I’ll take it and I’ll remember every goddamned second of it as I destroy you, world. I mean that in the positive ‘bring it on’ sort of way, not the terrifying ‘some men just want to watch the world burn’ sort of way. I’m all positive. SO FUCKING POSITIVE!!!!!!! (My jaw clenched so tight just then I think my already broken wisdom teeth just turned to powder)

Slight digression. Anyhoo, as I was saying. Fuck Bell. Right in it’s stupid face. I don’t even have the energy to write out the line by line phone call I had with the most infuriating customer service representative I’ve ever encountered. I am actually angered out. I have no more anger in me. Or to be more precise I have so much anger, that it’s taking an intermission while I chuckle at this cursed nonsense. ‘There’s no supervisor.’ ... ‘There’s no supervisor.... in the middle of the day... on a Wednesday... at all of bell.... not one person above your station... this is what you’re telling me?’... ‘yes, I’m it.’... That actually happened. Also she gave me her name and employee number to start the fucking conversation. Why in God’s name would you give that information if you were going to be so unhelpful? I will see you on a boat back to Kingston before I sleep, Bell-harpy. I vow it.