rants

This is the part of the site where I tell you all the things that make me batty.  See, people accuse me of being nit-picky.  However, I feel I am only reacting to reactionary actions, and, therefore, I must outline in rant form the reasons for my annoyance, which will no doubt only serve to further my nit-picky reputation.  But I don't care, so nyah nyah nyah!

Oh yeah, and if you click on something in the grid below and it doesn't go anywhere, that's because it isn't done yet, so just hold your horses.

ebay asshole: itsshortforleo	I'm breaking up with you, Denver International Airport	an open letter to my dog, RE: barfing on the carpet	The Black Parade
Craigslist Rants & Raves	all the rocks in my yard	an open letter to the woman with the tight jeans	celebrities who think they should share their opinions
Big Johnson Trucking	David Caruso	bad grammar	pets wearing clothes
asl	Christmas decorations in March	cruelty to animals	whiners
Danielle Steele	infidelity	the stop sign at the end of my block	country music
schmoopie couples	"and when are you going to start having kids?"	inferior yard sales	teal
barking dogs	Comcast

 

 

ebay jerk is so unscrupulous he needs his own page...click it, man

 

I'm breaking up with you, Denver International Airport

Dear Denny,

I thought we had something special.  All your beautiful features: your little shops, your French restaurant with the lovely eggplant sandwich, your cross-concourse trolley with the twinkling tones of an ice cream truck, your faux-fossil-encrusted floor...I thought it was all for me.  I thought you cared.

But now I've seen the others--so many others--draped all over you, looking you over with sleepy eyes, touching your darkest corners with their want and their need and their hunger.  How could you, Denny?  They slept with you--all of them--and you let it happen.  I'll bet you loved it, too.  You loved them needing you, even if it was desperate and dirty and you knew that with the need came hatred and tears, when you knew that they'd rather be somewhere else--anywhere else. 

No, you didn't mind at all that they hated themselves for needing you.  Maybe that made it even sweeter for you, knowing their minds were screaming to be elsewhere even while their bodies lay sleeping in your filthy lap.  Oh, how can I ever look at you again?

And you know the worst thing, Denny?  The worst thing is knowing that I need you, knowing I'll come crawling back.  Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday.  Someday you'll have me back in your arms--those too-welcoming arms, those arms that have held so many others. 

You're fickle, Denny.  Fickle, and, I might add, inadequate for such fickleness.  You're not enough airport for all of us.  Your charm has its limits, and when the fossils in the floor have grown dim with the grunge of humanity and the throngs have grown suspect of your glossiness like a child viewing his first badly-placed toupee, you will long for the closeness we once had, and you will sigh and remember the hazy, sepia-touched days when I adored you.

Ah, Denny.  You will never truly understand what you've lost.

So long, Denny.  So long.

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an open letter to my dog, RE: barfing on the carpet

Dear Maggie,

It's not that I don't love you.  Because I do.  Most of the time, you totally rock.  In an annoying kind of way.  But you're cute, and that's why I let you live.

But, dang, girl: why must you barf on the carpet?

There are much more barf-friendly surfaces in the house.  Like the kitchen floor, which is covered with wipe-uppable linleum-type stuff; or, perhaps, your own bed, which has the removable cover and everything.  But the carpet?  I know you've seen me perform the barf-cleaning ritual, so you're aware of the many steps.  And the swearing, and the constant vocalizations on the hows and whys of your barfing rituals.

So why continue to do it?  As near as I can tell, there's nothing in the barf.  It's just yellow, so that's, like, bile, right?  Or some kind of digestive juices.  And you're not a cat, so it's not a whole hairball thing.  I used to think it was you missing me when I was gone, because it would only happen when I was at work, but once in a while you do it when I'm here.  Although in the case of tonight, I was at the fabric store for a while, and then Walmart.  Did you sense that I was at Walmart and yet not buying you any treats, and thus worked yourself into a gastronomical tizzy, and when I got home you began the horking process to show me how cruel I was to leave you?

Because, honestly, Maggie, that kind of behavior is not going to make me not go anywhere.  It might make me never come back, though.  You just think about that next time you're about to hurl, hmm?

Now, I must reiterate that I do appreciate all the good things you do, like eating pieces of food I drop on the floor and would otherwise have to pick up, listening to me with rapt attention as though I am a brilliant rocket scientist type person, and lying around looking cute.  At all these activities, you excel.  I would just ask that you consider the horrific aftermath caused by your carpet-barfing, and, instead, go ahead and barf on the linoleum.  I know you can do it, because there's a significant pre-horking dry heave session that precedes every vomit episode, so if you'd just take that time to mosey on into the kitchen, I'd be pleased as punch.  It's multi-tasking, sure, but I have faith in you.  After all, I've seen you walk and pee concurrently, so this should be pretty much the same thing.

In conclusion, Maggie: I love you; you're very cute; but please do not barf on the carpet.

Love,
April

P.S.  If you could not lick everything on the coffee table, that would be great.  Thanks!

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The Black Parade

This song is so annoying it has its own page.

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Craigslist Rants and Raves

Okay, I never frequented this section of Craigslist much anyway because it's best if I avoid places where I know the spelling and grammar will make my eyes bleed.  However, I occasionally visit it, and recently I determined that the majority of people who post there are racists, bigots, male chauvinists, or just general idiots who cannot be taught.  If someone writes a decent post, one of these brain donors will write a comeback that both a) does not rebut the original post, but rather arrives at conclusions that nobody with an IQ over 4 would reach, and b) disparages the original writer's supposed gender, age, weight, race, religion, job, spouse, dog, houseplants, and choice of television viewing.  Here are some examples of rebuttals you can expect to receive on Craigslist R&R:

Original Statement:
I wish Costco weren't so crowded.

Typical Rebuttal:
its not crouded you whale, its just because your so fat you cant get down the iles. why dont you quit smoking and eating donutts al day long you cow, you make me want to run you over with may doge ram that i just bought becuz i have a kickass job since i am so intellagent and a genius and everthing. ooh, snap.

Original Statement: 
People really need to keep track of their children in the grocery store.  What if they were to get kidnapped?  That's irresponsible parenting.

Typical Rebuttal:
Where do you get off telling me how to raise my kids, bitch?  What are you, some kind of expert?  For your information, my kids have learning disabilities and ADHD, and I'm blind in one eye and walk with a limp, so if I can't control my kids every minute that's my business not yours.  I bet you don't even have any kids.  If you weren't such a bitch, maybe you could find yourself a man and get some kids of your own to raise instead of telling me how to raise mine.  I hate Jews!

Original Statement:
Did you see Dave Matthews Band at the Rose Garden last week?  They were awesome!

Typical Rebuttal:
Are you making fun of me because I didn't go to the concert?  Maybe you should stop picking on people who weren't borned into money like you and can't afford to go to concerts in Protland.  Portlands full of dirty Mexicans anyway and fat chicks.  I hate fat chicks!  Go to hell, Dave Matthews Band lover!  You're probably gay and also a dirty fat Mexican.

Original Statement:
I'm so glad they're putting in a light by Best Buy.  It's about time!  It was almost impossible to turn left after leaving the store, and nobody could figure out to go through the parking lots to the next light over.  

Typical Rebuttal: 
if there wasn't so many damn illegals we wouldn't have so much traffic and this wouldn't be a problem but as it is why do you have to be such a bitch about it maybe you should just let people in did you ever think of that?  i bet your a fat Jew.  besides i have to go to best buy cuz its right next to teh porn store and i need to get my porn so i hope i run into you in traffic, bitch!

Well, you can see what we're dealing with here.  Imbeciles with too much time on their hands and no concept of punctuation.  Oh well.  It's a hobby for them, I guess.  At least it keeps them off the street.

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all the rocks in my yard...have their own page (which you will go to if you click here)

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an open letter to the woman with the tight jeans at the PeaceHealth pharmacy on Willamette

To the woman at the pharmacy on May 2nd around 8:30 p.m., whose prescription(s) totaled approximately $160:

Please never wear those jeans again. I'm sure you are a very nice person with many wonderful qualities, but you are a bottom-heavy gal. Hey, I understand. I'm a bottom-heavy gal myself. However, the wardrobe decision you made yesterday was unfortunate in that it caused the lower half of your body to resemble a balloon animal.

I feel certain that you will contract some type of infection from wearing such tight jeans. It can't be healthy. Or comfortable, for that matter. Wouldn't you feel more comfortable being able to breathe freely? I know you would. Life is too short to be uncomfortable!

Please, for your sake and the sake of others, burn the jeans. Burn them now (in a safe manner, within legal guidelines, away from dry grasses and/or chemicals). Let the world know you by your beautiful soul, not your bulging anatomy.

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celebrities who think they should share their opinions

Okay, Barbra Streisand needs to shut it.  Shut.  It.  George Clooney as well.  And so does any other celebrity who believes that his celebrity status authorizes him to air his opinions about politics, psychiatry, fur coats, or meat eating with me and the rest of the American public.  Shut it now.  Your debatable talent at whatever gained you your celebrity in the first place does not automatically extend to every other facet of the culture as we know it.  Do not assume that we are a captive audience.  I've walked out of classes I paid $1200 to take when the professor starting spouting off about topics unrelated to the course, so don't think I won't change the channel or walk out of your movie or concert or what have you, celebrity-type person.  Because at the heart of it, you're no more important than my neighbor across the street, so if I won't listen to him spew his rhetoric, I sure as heck won't listen to you spew yours.  Spew is spew, man.  It doesn't smell any different because it's coming out of a celebrity's mouth.  

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Big Johnson Trucking

There's a company in Oregon named this.  I object.  I also object to "Rock Your World Excavating."  It's just stupid.  Entrepreneurs, please email me before you officially name your business.  Tragedies like this can be prevented.

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David Caruso

I'm not sure what it is about David Caruso.  I just don't like the cut of his jib.  I was discussing it with my sister earlier today, and she said that he's just unattractive, but I don't think it's as simple as that.  There's no one specific unattractive quality about him, but he just turns me completely off.  To be fair, I'm sure David Caruso isn't all that attracted to me, either, but still.  I think it's a combination of his unattractiveness and his obvious conceit.  You know how some people are unattractive but there's something about them--a good personality, for example--that makes them appealing anyway?  Like Richard Belzer.  Nobody's gonna call him pretty, but, personally, I like the guy.  I especially like him as Detective Munch on Law & Order: SVU, because a) his name is funny, b) he has some really funny lines, and c) he's a conspiracy theorist and that's always entertaining.  But David Caruso?  Though I don't know exactly why, I think he's yucky.

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bad grammar

They say the English language is the hardest to learn, but I didn't think that applied to the natives.  At the risk of sounding like someone's grandmother, this country is going to pot.  What I would like to know is this: if me and her go to the mall later, do you wanna come with?  

Ack!  What's wrong with people?  I went to a regular old school in a regular small, Midwestern town that, to my knowledge, yielded no rocket scientists or Nobel Prize winners.  Even so, I'm apparently a genius.  I know when to use "its" and when to use "it's."  I know that "irregardless" is not a word.  I know that one person is not a "they."  Why doesn't everyone know this?  Why?  Tell me why!  And if you yourself have ever said, "I'm taking the freeway because it's more timely," go here.

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pets wearing clothes

Dogs have a lot to think about.  Where do I poop this morning?  Did I remember to chew shoes yesterday?  Should I lick my butt first, or trail my food throughout the living room?  It's a tough life!  Do they really need the additional stress of having the rest of the dogs see them in little blue sweater vests with pompoms on them?  If you have a dog that has hair on it, he doesn't need a sweater.  He doesn't need a hat or a scarf or sunglasses.  He's a dog.  Now, sure, you've got your small, short-haired breeds that are not used to being outside in cold weather.  When you take your Chinese Crested for a jaunt, he might need a little protection against the weather.  I mean, the dog's hardly got any hair and he's funny-looking.  Cover up the poor little rat.  But if you've got a golden retriever and you're not blind - or otherwise physically compromised and in need of a guide animal - he doesn't need a vest.  Think of his pride, man!  Did you like the clothes your mother picked out for you?  I rest my case.

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asl

Okay, if I'm in a chat room, I expect people to ask me this (for you non-internet-lingo-savvy people, it stands for "age, sex, location," and it's the way 14-year-old boys cruise for "hot babes" on the internet).  But, you see, I am not in a chat room.  I went into one once, and the grammar made my eyes bleed.  Also, I'm not interested in cyber sex, and this seems to be the only reason people go into chat rooms.  But I digress.  

I play exactly one online game.  Predictably, it's a word game.  It's not a game called, "Come and find your online sex partner," or "Here we are - all the hot chicks, waiting to meet and fall in love with 14-year-old boys."  IT'S A WORD GAME!  Do not ask me my age unless you're doing a survey on online gaming.  Do not ask me my sex when there is actually an extremely well-known feminine indicator in my login name (I cannot tell you how many teenage girls have hit on me.  Girls with the word "angle" in their login names.  Spelling is not important when true online love is on the line).  Do not ask me my location.  My location is, "in the living room, sitting in front of the computer on a Saturday night just like the rest of you losers."  

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Christmas decorations in March

I love Christmas.  It's my favorite holiday.  I personally don't believe in putting up the tree before December, but those day-after-Thanksgiving people have my blessing.  You have the day off work, you've got nothing to do but eat turkey sandwiches - go for it.  I'll freely admit that I sometimes start listening to Christmas music in October.  On headphones, of course, because I realize it's a sickness.  

But listen, people.  Christmas, as wonderful as it is, ends.  On December 26th, it's over.  Now, there's an afterglow to Christmas.  Any holiday that wonderful lingers.  I like to let it linger for about a week.  January 2nd, my decorations come down.  But I'm not the ghost of "Christmas is past."  Some people like to leave their decorations up through January.  It starts to grate on me, but fine.  To each his own.  But I have had next-door neighbors who left their decorations up until April.  April!  And we're not talking a string of icicle lights left up on the roof and sitting dormant.  I'm talking plastic reindeer and lights that are TURNED ON EVERY NIGHT.  This is not right.  It is not good.  And, mostly, it is not fair.  To me.  I live next door.  I have to look at this.  My friends tease me.  I can't go out in public without sunglasses and a head scarf.  A HEAD SCARF!  

All I'm asking is that you Christmas-extenders think of others.  Consider your neighbors.  For God's sake, consider your own reputations!  Do you not know that people are laughing?  They're laughing!  They're driving by your house and they're calling you a hillbilly and they're speculating on your education and your wardrobe and they're taking bets on how many bags of pork rinds you have in the cupboard.  Because, really, what it boils down to is apathy.  It's about being too lazy to get out there with a dang ladder and get those things off the roof, and it's about not giving a rip how crappy your place looks.  

I've actually seen houses listed in the real estate guide that had the icicle lights on them in the middle of the summer.  Let's try to put aside the fact that anyone looking at that listing can tell there hasn't been a repair or update done to that place since 1972.  This is about aesthetics!  Whether you're living in it quite happily or trying to sell it, this is your home.  Don't you have any pride?  Do you let your children run around with no shoes and dirty feet and stained clothes and Kool Aid mustaches?  You do, don't you?  Don't you?  You have your fights outside on the lawn.  You have at least one car that doesn't run and never will.  You've lost track of how many pets you have.  You leave your front door open 24/7 so the whole neighborhood can hear you watching COPS.  Heck, you've probably been on COPS.  Do you see how easy it is to stereotype?  Don't let this happen to you!  When Christmas is over, let it go.  Pack it lovingly in a plastic tote and put it in the garage.  It will come back again next year, I promise.

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cruelty to animals

I watch a lot of Animal Planet.  Maybe I shouldn't, because it makes me angry.  Oh, boy, does it make me angry when I see people who abuse or neglect their pets.  This'll be short and to the point.  He is a dog.  He can't make his own dinner.  He doesn't have opposable thumbs.  He can't bathe himself or brush his own hair or run the hose and get his own water.  He can't drive himself to the vet and he doesn't understand why he's hurting and you don't care.  It is your job to care.  You went out and got that cute little puppy, and it is not his fault he grew up and costs a lot to feed and has to be walked and sheltered and vaccinated and sometimes chews up stuff you didn't want chewed up.  Take care of him, or I will beat you upside the head with a blunt object.  

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whiners

"I sure would like it if my parents paid for my school and bought me a car and paid my rent."  "Man, everyone gets a break but me."  "Shaniqua just took her lunch even though it's my turn to take my lunch and I've been here 3 hours already without a lunch break.  I hate this job.  Oh yeah, welcome to K-Mart.  Did you find everything okay?"  

You know, yeah, there are things that suck.  There are days when it feels like the forces of the universe are conspiring against you and nothing good will ever happen.  But you know what?  It's not true.  The forces of the universe don't care that much about you.  In fact, it'd be pretty hard to find anything or anyone in the universe that cares as much about you as you do, because, in all likelihood, you're a selfish brat.  Things are not supposed to fall into your lap.  You're supposed to work for them.  So try that before you start whining that you don't have what you deserve.  

And if you see someone who has stuff you'd like to have and he didn't have to work for it, so what?  He probably doesn't appreciate what he has and he won't have a very meaningful existence after all, and everything comes too easily to him, which doesn't teach him anything about what's important in life, which will lead to several unwise life choices and messy divorces and eventual bankruptcy and he'll die in the gutter all alone.  Or he might always get everything handed to him on a silver platter and still somehow be a great guy and meet a beautiful supermodel who also has a good personality and they'll get married and live in a 32-room mansion and have perfect children who are on the honor roll and always be blissfully happy.  And this still has no bearing on you.  And if you let it, you're wasting your life being a damn whiner.

I suspect my mother would say that the time you spend complaining could be much more wisely spent rectifying the situation you're complaining about.  In other words, if your boyfriend is cheating on you and all you do is complain to all your friends that he's cheating on you and you deserve to be treated better, break up with the jerk and find someone who will treat you better.  If you hate your job at K-Mart and you spend all your time whining about how you didn't get your mid- to late-morning break, quit crying, quit K-Mart and get a job at Target.  

To make a long story slightly less long, quit thinking so much about yourself.  If you have a place to live and the occasional meal to eat and nobody's dropping bombs on you or otherwise compromising the length of your life, you're a lucky person.  There are good things in your life.  Quit making everyone hate to be around you, because I guarantee that if all you do is whine, you're losing friends even as we speak.  Unless you're the only one with a car.  Then they still hate to be around you, but they use you for rides anyway and just talk about you behind your back.

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Danielle Steele

Danielle Steele is a bad, bad writer.  A very bad writer.  My dog uses more interesting phrasing.  The woman is a hack in the hackiest sense of the word.  I tried to read one of her books once, but it was hard because my eyes kept bleeding.  And there's not much more to say about that.

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infidelity

Are you married?  That means you have sex with one person: your spouse.  You kiss one person: your spouse.  You write steamy letters/emails to one person: your spouse.  What's that?  Your spouse doesn't do it for you anymore?  The spark is gone?  Try some new stuff in the bedroom.  See a counselor.  You really, really tried and it didn't work?  Get divorced.  Then do it all over again, because, statistically, that's what's going to happen.  

I'm not saying marriage can never come back from infidelity.  I'm saying it shouldn't have to.  People are so selfish today.  Infidelity is just an option now.  You see someone you'd like to have sex with but you're married?  Well, just don't get caught.  That makes it okay.  Temptation isn't something you fight.  It's just the stage that comes before indulgence.  You pass right through it.  It's so easy!  In fact, it's what makes indulgence indulgence, isn't it?  If you didn't want the thing you're indulging in, it wouldn't be indulgence at all, would it?  It'd be work.  Like marriage.  Who would want that? 

Now, some people wonder, "But am I really cheating?"  Well, a good rule of thumb is to imagine what would happen if you told your wife what you were doing or thinking of doing.  Pretend your wife is standing over your shoulder as you're having sex with the woman at the office (no, I'm not suggesting any particular positions; it's a figure of speech) or IMing that 16-year-old Australian girl you've been schmoozing for weeks, saying you're a 21-year-old college football player.  Look at your wife's imaginary face.  Does it look happy?  No, Spanky, it doesn't.  And what if you're not married, but merely dating someone?  Same rule applies.  If your boyfriend were here, would he enjoy watching you rub up against Kevin by the keg like that?  No, honey, he wouldn't.  

Think of your significant other before you act.  If you think s/he'll think it's cheating, it's cheating.  Don't do it.  Step away from the not-sharing-your-last-name person.  Dammit, is it that difficult?

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the stop sign at the end of my block

Okay, so if you're driving South down my street, you get to a stop sign where you have to stop, right?  Because it's a stop sign.  But if you're across the intersection, facing North on my street and you come to the stop sign on that side, you don't have to stop if you're turning right.  There's a sign that says that and everything.  Which is all fine and good, except that the people facing South are not informed that the people facing North don't really have to stop.  And even that wouldn't be a problem if the people facing South were going to just keep driving South, but what if they're turning left at the same time the North-facing people are turning right and not stopping?  Huh?  Huh?  Did you ever think of that, city planner people?  No, you did not.  Because you don't care about my street.  That's why the freeway ramp on my street says, " el a hi h ay No t  o Be tl ne."  It's supposed to say "Delta Highway North to Beltline," but I guess the street sign upkeep people thought it would be more fun to guess.  Bah! 

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country music

See the section on whining.

Also, it's a matter of choice.  If you grew up in South Dakota and had only AM radio in your car until you were 20, you'd be a little sick of country music, too.  Much like when my grandma tried to cram an avocado down my throat, country music is practically forced on Midwesterners.  In the local bar in a little town my parents lived in when my youngest sister was in high school, there was exactly one non-country song in the juke box.  I will always remember going in there and playing "Black Hole Sun" just to throw the hicks for a loop.  So, yeah, given a choice between country and almost any other kind of music in the world, I will choose the other kind.

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Schmoopie couples

Hey, man.  Don't chew on your girlfriend's face while I'm trying to eat  - or walk, or shop, or get car repairs, for that matter.  Nobody wants to see that.  I promise you. 

And while we're on the subject, if you're my boyfriend, don't be grabbing anything other than my hand in public.  I've divorced at least one perpetrator of public woman-handling in the past, and I won't hesitate to do it again.   

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"And when are you going to start having kids?"

I am not going to start having kids.  Quit asking me.  If you do ask me and I reply, "I don't need kids; I have a dog," do not think I'm kidding about that.  I value my dog more than most children.  They're loud, they're annoying, they're expensive, they make you get up early, and there are not going to be any in my uterus in the foreseeable future, so stop asking already.

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inferior yard sales

I can't stress this enough.  If all you have to sell are some stained children's clothes, 8-tracks, and framed unicorn posters, you do not have a yard/garage/rummage sale.  You have a bunch of worthless crap on your lawn.  Do not advertise this crapfest.  I do not want to get my hopes up, drive all the way out to your half-painted house (which, undoubtedly, will be on a dead-end, one-way street up in the hills), circumvent your collection of rusted-out cars to find a parking spot, and then stroll through piles of junk that aren't even organized or priced or worth anything.  No, I do not. 

I must also add that I have never lived in a place where there are more a) worthless and/or b) overpriced yard sales than I currently experience.  Most of the sales I go to here either have nothing worth buying or have 9" black and white televisions for $75.  Therefore, I feel it is my job to educate the public on the purpose of the yard sale. 

A yard sale's purpose is to distribute the stuff around the world with the least resistance for both parties. 

The seller should understand that she needs to put getting-rid-of-the-stuff ahead of making-lots-of-money, because, hello, your stuff is used, lady.  I don't care if you paid $900 for that sofa a mere three years ago.  Your butt has been sitting on it for three years.  Your children have been jumping and spilling Cheetos on it for three years.  Your husband has been farting into it for three years.  It is no longer new.  You do not get to charge $500 for it.  I'm sorry, no.

By the same token, the buyer should understand that she is not getting a new product.  If you buy a coffee table at a yard sale and then get home and realize it has a scratch on it, don't go taking it back.  That's tacky.  IT'S USED!  Get some dang stain and rub it in there and deal with it.  It always amazes me when I see people trying to make "returns" at yard sales.  Come on!  It's not Walmart!

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teal

I hate teal.  I don't know why, but I do.  This is really just a warning for anyone who knows me so I don't end up with a birthday or Christmas gift that's teal.  So, basically, I just don't like teal for anything.  And for cars, particularly, I hate both teal and white equally.  Just so you know.  Not that anyone's going to buy me a car.  I'm just sayin'.

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barking dogs

It's called a shock collar.  It is perfectly humane.  My dog has one and she barked exactly twice before she learned its purpose.  And my dog is absolutely retarded.  So, please, for the love of God, don't leave your dog outside barking its guts out.  That's unspeakably rude and I might bash your head in with a shovel for it.  Thank you.

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Comcast

So, I am quite a princess when it comes to internet connectivity.  I got cable internet as soon as my first computer came out of the box nearly 10 years ago.  I was always happy with the service, even though it cost about 3 times what dial-up did.  I felt it was worth the expense, and I further felt that dial-up users were cheap losers. 

So why did I spend 4 long months in dial-up hell waiting for Qwest DSL to be available in my neighborhood?  Because Comcast is a greedy whore. 

You see, Comcast bought AT&T Broadband and proceeded to tell me that if I didn't also submit to their cable television product, I would have to pay a rate that was $12 per month higher than what I had previously paid (and what their cable TV subscribers pay).  So much for rewarding 6 years of customer loyalty.  So much for retaining customers in a corporate buyout.  The logic of this decision eludes me, really.  Obviously I haven't bought a lot of companies, but it seems to me that you'd want to offer your current customers some type of reassurance instead of trying to force them to buy all your products.  But that's just me.

And then you have a company like Qwest, which has routinely lackluster performance and sub-par customer service, which is now lowering their prices for no apparent reason.  So despite the fact that they spell their name with a W, I chose Qwest and am currently very happy with my service.  Which is half the price of Comcast, thank you very much.

 

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