Today I hate everyone.

First, the movers.

They did a good job, but they weren't as careful with boxes obviously, indelibly marked "Fragile" (which is not Swedish for 'Throw Me') as I would have liked. Don't know if anything is broken or not, but I hope not. Amy would plotz. Plotz is a good word that people should use more often, in more complex sentences if possible. (If I have to read one more rant, I swear that plotz I will!)

Ended up costing $700 instead of the $500 that I expected because he had three people instead of two and charged me an extra $25 per hour for the third guy. Could have just paid me and I would have pitched in.

The movers weren't nearly as bad as the rest of the day. The cable company was supposed to come between 3 and 6 to install digital cable and broadband. They show up at 6:30, look around for twenty minutes, and then tell me that there is no cable laid in the ground on our lot, so they'll have to come back out, lay new cable and then hook everything up. Sunday at 8 AM I'll be seeing them do that, but this fucks up all of my plans to work and check email from home and have Internet access.

The phone company was even worse! The undereducated drooling syncophants at Sprint didn't show up for their appointment to set up my two phone lines. I call to ask, perchance, if I may expect them to show up at 9 PM instead of 6 PM, and they inform me with dripping condescension that they don't have my name or a work order for my address.

Several hours later, and the veil of mystery is lifted. It seems that when setting up an account for new service, if one is predisposed to ignorance, stupidity and irrationality, one can accidentally delete that new service instead of submitting it into the system. Which is precisely what one mentally deficient fucktwit did two weeks ago.

So now I have new phone service being set up on Tuesday at the earliest. My cell phone bill will now be astronomical, since I will have to rely on it (the phone, not the bill) for work.

On the upside, while waiting for the denizens of the blue collar service industry to arrive and perform their contracted fucking jobs, I read Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk. Much better than the movie, and that's no small feat, since the movie is very well-done. Of course, you'll always have those half-wit retards who watch Fight Club and are inspired to go get in a fight. Darwinism should rear its subtle head and prevent all real life fight club enthusiasts from ever passing on their DNA to any species, human or sub-human.

And I'm exhausted and have to move more stuff. Too much stuff. Weighing down on my brain!

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