mission: failed!

Wow.

Not that anyone should really be shocked, but I guess it didn’t take too long for “MISSION: FAILED!” I kind of expect a huge red stamp of that vibrantly splashed across the page.

Does it even matter that I had the best of intentions? No. Seriously. But then I had to rush out of town on Tuesday to go up for a quick second round interview in New York and rush back and then suddenly exhausted, and wait? Are you still listening? Do you even care?

Initially I was going to do two posts for two days. To, you know, make up those ‘lost’ posts and continue and I would still count it as accomplishing the impossible. I think the blog speaks for itself in suggesting how well that went. The blog: “Shut your face bitch. We’re on a break!”

For Killer though, and I think myself, I’m going to persevere and see how often I can post until I leave. I might start an incestuous relationship once I move to New York though. No work? No cable? What does that leave? Procrastination from job searching – and so that means more blog stories.

You might still be caught on that ‘
no cable’ part of the last paragraph though. I know. No cable. Or even local TV channels actually. No, no. Put the phone down. There’s no need to be calling a medical alert on my ass for suicide watch. I think it’s going to be okay. Or it won’t. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Plus Killer just introduced me to a site where they post episodes of video shows where you can watch them online. Clearly it isn’t the same thing, but it will have to do. Karen without TV. Can you even imagine the travesty? I can’t.

In terms of describing the depths of my obsession with my TV and fauxvo, I was shut off last week, or I should say on the 26^th of September, because I hadn’t paid my antenna person (because satellite/cable is a money hungry motherfucker of an industry, I have to pay some company $5 a month to get access to the dish on the roof. It’s fucking ludicrous.). Granted, my bad about being about a month late in paying, but I kept on meaning to call them and say it would only be a few months instead of the 6 you pay at a time. So the fuckers shut me off. When I called to be re-hooked up, they explained it would cost $60 to re-connect me. I thought this ludicrous so said, ‘no thank you’ and said it in a tone that really said: ‘go fuck yourself!’ Even though at this point I’m practically hyperventilating because I won’t have cable for a month, I call DirecTV to cancel my service. The woman politely informs me that since I have a fauxvo I signed up for a two year agreement that hasn’t run up yet (What. The. Fuck? I don’t remember that when I said I would sign up for the FauxVo. That wasn’t explained to me fuckers), so I would have to pay a cancellation fee and mail my FauxVo back. My FauxVo with hours of service. Sigh. I think I should preface the following information with the fact that it had been a hard morning and I was already going through withdrawal of not having ANY tv. So…I crumbled to the fucking man and paid my re-connect fee for a month of television access.

I know.

No. I. Know.

I like to rationalize it with the fact that I’ve been staying in mostly and so essentially that’s only really like one night out.

I think I’m really just deluding myself. Pick up that phone on the 23^rd, or at least be ready to save my ass.