Today we will contemplate the ultimate Fiendish Plot, an entity of such inherent evil, such malevolent intent, such conscience-defying badness as to make the mind reel. That entity is, of course

AT&T Broadband

Bastards.

<premeptive note> Yes, I know, in the grand scheme of things -- a scheme that includes bombings, anthrax-infused mail, precarious (at best) job security, and more than a couple of those Horsemen of the Apocalypse -- cable modem access is the most trivial thing in the goddammed world to be whining about. However, all our leaders are urging us to live our lives as normally as possible, and for me, that means bitching and moaning about relative trivia and acting like I am the center of the world. So there.</preemptive note>

So here's the deal: My cable modem has been on the fritz pretty much all month. They came out to fix it once, but alas, to no avail. I've been calling customer service daily, and they keep saying that someone will get back to me to take care of it. Never happened. On Friday, I had a light-to-moderate hissy fit, and they promised to send someone out on Sunday. At some point. I asked for them to do so in the morning, and they said they'd try. Harumph.

Yesterday, I spent the day inside waiting for the electrician, who in the end couldn't show. That pissed me off, but just a little, because he was doing me a favor by trying to come on the weekend and at short notice. And when he does come, I know he'll fix things, and do it cheap. So while I was lightly peeved, I didn't think it was any big deal.

But today, I woke up early, didn't shower, waited ALL DAY -- 8:30 to 5:30 -- for the cable modem guy to show, and ... nothing, No one came. No adequate explanation from customer service. Nothing. Again, bastards.

To make things worse, this was probably the last beautiful weekend of the year -- sunny, mid-60s, leaves changing and falling, people running around looking happy -- and I was going to (1) go to the forest preserve with Christine to soak in the leaves, and (2) buy and plant bulbs for next year. Plus all the annoying errands, such as laundry and grocery shopping etc. etc., which I couldn't do because I couldn't leave my fucking apartment. Arghh. I honestly think I hate these people.

So, I'm looking to alternatives for high-speed access, because AT&T BROADBAND IS OBVIOUSLY RUN BY PUSTULANT ALIENS FROM OUTER SPACE WHO ARE TRYING TO SAP THE WORLD'S ENERGY BY INSTALLING BOGUS MODEMS AND THEN DRIVING EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US, LITTLE BY LITTLE, COMPLETELY CRAZY.

I know, I'm yelling. Guess what? I don't care. You know why?

Because AT&T Broadband, it's managers and employees, are MALEVOLENT CARRION EATERS.
They're UNHOLY SCUM-SUCKING WASTOIDS.
They're GOD-FORSAKEN OFFSPRING OF A MUTANT THREE-ASSED HYENA.
They're A TRAGIC WASTE OF CARBON-BASED LIFE.
They're BASTARD CHILDREN OF A ROTTING OKRA PLANT.
They're A BROOD OF FLATULENT PIG-DOGS.
They're DESCENDENTS OF A MISBEGOTTEN UNION BETWEEN A BRAIN-DAMAGED CAMEL AND A HAIR-METAL BAND.
They're GOAT-SCREWING ASS-SCRATCHERS.
They're SHATNERIAN EMOTERS.
They're DUNG-HEAP-DWELLING SONS OF A SILLY PERSON.
They're IDIOTIC BRAIN-EATING ZOMBIE WANNABEES.
They're ISSUE OF A DISCARDED CTHULU-ESQUE SLIME BEING.
They're THE END PRODUCT OF A BULEMIC WARTHOG'S DIGESTIVE PROCESS.
They're THE SCRAPINGS FROM THE LITTERBOX OF A DIURETIC MOUNTAIN LION.
They're VOMIT-SOAKED BOY-BAND PRETENDERS
And worse.

They are also liars, cheats and conmen. They are unworthy of anyone's esteem. They suck.

<note>My friends rock, by the way. I call them out of nowhere, I ask them for insults, and instead of simply hanging up and/or having me committed, they come through for me. Tripp contributed the goat-screwer, Wendy the okra plant (plus the rational bits), and Rob the following: "AT&T Broadband -- get your internet from the same people who bring you Melissa and Joan Rivers" Oh, and I think son of a silly person is Monty Python.</note>

Plus, I've had the radio on, and I kept hearing goddamn AT&T Broadband commercials. And their hold audio ("This is all the great stuff AT&T Broadband can do!") is asinine and repetitive.

Well. That feels better. Not only did I get that out of my system (STINKING DUNGBEETLES!) (well, pretty much), I also got to call just about everyone I know in search of insults. A couple of reflections:

1. My friends tend to be out on Sunday nights. What's with you people?


2. I hate the time difference between here and Europe.


3. An inordinate number of creative insulters (Lotti, my dad, Deane, Dawn, Jeremy, Mary, Andy) are either out of town or unavailable due to wrong numbers, etc. Harumph. You missed the memo about it being all about me, didn't you.


4. My sister Amy is foolishly protective of her new boyfriend, who is apparently a cross between me and our dad (but Canadian), and who lived in Britain for nine years to boot, and would therefore be an ideal sounding board for insults. But noooooooo. Just because I've never met the man, because, in fact, he hasn't met anyone from our family, Amy is weirdly sensitive about giving me his phone number to call him out of nowhere, without a proper introduction, and ask him to produce innovative insults at a moment's notice. What's with that, Amy? He's going to have to get used to us at some point, right?