I hate...

...incompetent people who cannot find their own arse with their hands and waiting for them to do so. How do these people grow up so inept and why do they all work at phone/internet companies?

It's one of the inponderables of life. Like missing socks and men...they just happen along. Hopefully, if the planets align and people can find their arses I will have the internet tonight.


yours in extreme frustration,

Amarinda

Oh dear...

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8764-shackle-me-not.aspx

I had a card left in my mail box to indicate I had a parcel waiting for me. So I went to the post office and picked up said parcel. I got back to Patrick, my car, and ripped open the top of the box with my car keys. I stared at the contents. Huh. There was no note. Just a mini toy jukebox. Hmmm. Not something you get everyday. Two thoughts came to my mind. 1 – I must have got drunk one night and randomly ordered obscure items off the internet. 2. This was some freaky drug thing and someone has stashed cocaine in the toy jukebox, sent it to me, as a random person, and I would get a knock on the door one night by some bling wearing thug, called Bubba, wanting his drugs. Most perplexing.

I drove home and decided to check my credit card charges online to see if the first scenario was correct. I logged on. The computer wouldn’t work. Huh. I picked up the phone. Disconnected. Huh. A double mystery. Possibly the drug scenario was correct. Disable the woman and steal the jukebox drug stash. I rang the phone company. They didn’t know anything about possible drugs in a jukebox. They did tell me they disconnected my phone as per my request for 12th November. Um, yes that would be correct if it wasn’t the 2nd of freaking November. Oh dear, the woman said. Yes, oh dear would sum it up. She then set about reconnecting it only to discover they had buggered something up and would have to send a techie out to fix it. Sigh. Incompetence. Stamp it out now. Then, while I’ll wondering about my credit card and whether Big Bubba, drug lord, would knock on my door, my mobile (cell) phone rings and the sender of the jukebox – a good friend – explains she sent it as a house warming present for my new digs on Cairns. Ah, confusion – something that is thrust upon us at random intervals or a birthright?

Amarinda Jones
Penn Halligan
www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
Be daring...read an Amarinda book