It is because Comcast cable internet is taking me for a ride--a long, frustrating ride where I, being the consumer, and Comcast, being the we-don't-give-a-flying-monkey's-ass-about-your-happiness internet provider continue to struggle for control of the steering wheel.
Comcast is run by greedy, corporate Nazis. The internet comes on for three minutes and then disappears for four hours. My livelihood is supplemented by this thing called the internet. I guess Comcast thinks it and its powerful conglomerates have no need to serve me in any way possible other than yanking my chain and telling me to restart the computer.
Oh, I will restart, yes, indeedy. I will restart with wireless internet. And I will do so with pleasure.
And while I am on the subject of things that bug me (literally): Why is it that cockroaches in the South have to be so bloody persistent? They're over a foot long with a wingspan twice that size. They lumber through the living room in a highly desultory fashion, as if saying, "Yes, hello, I'd like to watch 'Friends', now." One of these gigantic freaks found its way into the home, sat in the darkness of the pantry, and waited for me to open the door. Upon doing so, the cockroach flew--flew, mind you--at my head, in a great flurry of wings and legs. I screamed and hopped and shook, and then Michael spent the next hour chasing the behemoth down. With the help of Delilah, pointer cat, Michael found it and squashed it. It quivered and asked in a voice reminiscent of Marlon Brando's role in 'Apocalypse Now' what it had done to deserve this death by WD-40. We didn't have much of a reply, since I was close to fainting and Michael's skin was still crawling from the whole episode.
Believe me. The cockroach manifesto may very well have begun, but I will not permit those suckers the glee of winning. And don't you know this will be coming up as I try to renegotiate my rent for the next 13 months?
You bet.
