Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Kim Jong-il is trying to kill me

So.. I have cable in my house. I have had it for years. I have had no trouble till now, and it has made up for lost time. I have taken my cable box back to that cable-box-returning-place-that-is-all-the-way-across-town four times in the past two weeks. The first time, it kept shutting off for no reason, well, there WAS a reason, but the box never told me why. Those boxes are fairly tight lipped. The second box did the same thing. I’m guessing the first box was directly related to the second box and shared one set of parents, who were also brother and sister. I took the cousin/sibling box back and got another. This one looked different so I figured they were not from the same family.

I got the box home and lovingly unwrapped the plastic the cable-box-returning-place put them in to make you think they were new. In reality they take your old box in the back where they immediately put it in plastic to be ready for the next customer while they giggle, stick pins in little plush cable boxes and wave dead chickens over it. The new box would not record any programs. I’m pretty sure it was just a slow learner and didn’t have enough one-on-one time while in cable box school.

I was tired of driving to the cable box returning place, so I asked them to send a technician to deliver another box. Two days later he showed up on my front porch. He looked freshly scrubbed and I didn’t see any dead chickens nearby so I let him in. He began to fiercely punch buttons on the front of the box while my TV began showing different screens with all this technical stuff. I tried to see what buttons he was pushing so I could fix the problem myself next time but he cleverly stood in front of me and blocked my view…he was on to me.

The technician made a few phone calls and asked for a signal to go to my house. This “signal” thing concerned me greatly for all I could determine was that Korean missiles were skipping Hawaii and headed straight to my house. I figured it wasn’t all bad because the blast might make the feral cats finally move. The technician started to leave and said the signal would come through in a little while. It didn’t. I was relieved, for while I still could not record my favorite programs, the neighbors that still talk to me would not suffer radiation burns.

Two day later I go back to the “cable box returning place that is all the way across town” to take the comprehensionally challenged door stop. I felt bad for the box but during the drive I tell it that it’s for its own good and it just needs to apply itself and work on its self esteem.

They give me another box but I make them test it before I leave. Everything worked beautifully and I was joyful. My joy was short lived for when I got home and got the box hooked up, I began to see cockroaches crawl out of it. Out they marched, one, two, three.. they apparently had their orders and were staging an attack. If Kim Jong-il couldn’t get me with the missiles, he would just gross me out. I counted five roaches before I ran to get a trash bag to slam dunk the bugbox into. I called the cable company to complain about this little set back. The customer service lady gagged and then told me she was in Wisconsin and that they didn’t have cockroaches there. I reminded her that they had moldy cheese all over the place so we were even.

I am going back to the cable box returning place tomorrow. I will be listening for screaming chickens and I’ll be hanged if I miss Jon and Kate plus 8. I’m pretty sure gunfire is going to erupt soon.

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I'm 50 year old man who prays he won't take anyone out with him when he finally loses it. Copyright 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012