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24 February 2006 @ 05:26 am
aaaaand that's the last straw. 'ol lego-helmet-hair in springfield just lost my vote.
22 February 2006 @ 06:26 pm
so i turn on the tv, and it says that the channel will be available shortly. whatever, i know that the comcast infrastructure is essentially a pack of insulated copper armor wearing wolverines that only conduct the picture when they've been doused in steak sauce and are actually fighting... whatever, even wolverines can't be angry all the time, so i fire up the media pc and start watching mythbusters episodes courtesy of bitorrent and the interwub.

i hear a knock at my door, and it's my downstair's neighbor asking me if i'm any good with cable. turns out she's having the same problem too, and the comcast support-tard was telling her that she could get her picture back if she removed the cable box completely (?!). i told her it was a service interruption, and i was having it too.

so i ring comcast, and they'll only fix it if i'm home tomorrow between 1 and 5 pm. nevermind that i'm having the trouble too. oh, but if a third customer calls and says their service is out, then they'll declare an emergency and send someone out right away.

i swear to fuck, i hope this is the final straw that lets our landlords put a dish up, because i am so beyond tired of their exceptional tard-ery.
Current Mood: annoyedannoyed
03 February 2006 @ 07:19 am
zombie roaches.

this is at once horrifying, gross, and amazingly cool that evolution would take this tack. of course, this means that as of today, the sci-fi channel will start filming a movie based on this premise. i wonder if bruce campbell will be attached?
16 January 2006 @ 02:07 pm
an open letter to the good people at dap, inc:

yesterday, i went to target, and purchased a tube of your DAP DryDex Spackling compound. i purchased this tube of pink spackle, based upon the tube's proclamation that it goes on pink and turns white!, and comes in an easy-to-use squeeze tube with unique pop-top design.

first off, let's tackle the tube. the instructions exhorted me to gently squeeze the tube to pop the top. sadly, gentle squeezing did not render the desired results, and as a matter of fact, it took my entire bodily weight leaning on the tube to pop the top (a job not helped by the circling of my three cats who were apparently convinced that it was a tube of tuna paste... if there's fish oil in there, i would ask that you re-consider the formula of your product). the entire grunting affair, struggling with all my might to get the inverted dispenser out was reminiscent of the infamous goatse man.

but i prevailed, and was able to start squeezing out your product onto the handy dandy applicator wedge that was provided. and, as advertised, the product did indeed go on pink, and then change to white... on my hands. the product immediately dried onto my fingers, making it look as if i'd been busily fisting the poppin' fresh dough man. however, this affect was relieved by some industrious scrubbing, which have left my fingers once again pink, albeit in a more organic fashion.

unfortunately, after a night of drying, the areas where the product was applied in our bedroom are not only still pink, it looks as if some stranger came in and ejaculated hubba-bubba gum at the wall at high velocity.

i must, therefore, sadly say that i will not be using any more of your products again, now that my boudoir looks like the scene of some horrid bubble-gum-bukkake.

yours truly,

andrew cone.
01 December 2005 @ 07:54 pm
humanity, in its infinite glory, never ceases to amaze me with its propensity for not only engaging in bone-stupid behavior, but doing so repeatedly.
"but... why shouldn't i have forwarded you that e-mail?"

"because it had a virus attached!"

"i know! i sent it to you because i wanted you to tell me if it was a virus or not!"

"that was a really bad idea... never do that again... EV-ER"

"but... why?"

"look... let's say you get really drunk and fuck the local bar skeeze... you wake up the next morning, not only sick with remorse, but with the dawning realization that you not only gave it up for a horrible, quick, and shitty lay that you can't quite remember, but you did it without practicing safe sex. sick with the thought of having your genitalia rot and fall off, you run to the doctor, burst in to his examining room, grab a scalpel, and merrily slice your veins open while spraying blood into his face, while hollering 'DO YOU THINK I HAVE THE AIDS?'"