My bowels kicked in just as the Rogers technical support girl came on the line this morning. They, my bowels, had been on hold for quite some time and became irritable much like the rest of me, waiting for Rogers, like I am forced to do several times a week until my contract runs out, at which time I will take my iPhone and, well, I haven't decided whose ass to shove it up yet, but I'll keep you posted.
My iPhone is constipated, and keeps sending the same emails over and over, yet the email remains lodged in the lower intestine of my Outbox like a block of Wisconsin cheddar.
While I was on hold, I had a desperate online cry for coffee cream from a fellow early bird, which was extremely cruel because I would normally have cream (or Baileys) for my coffee, only I am holding steadfast to my UWeight health regime and drink tea with milk or, get this: soya – while I am on hold with Rogers – instead of an extra-spicy Caesar, or my 1/4 cup of cream in my freshly-ground Italian espresso.
Soya. What the fuck? No one wants to borrow soya at 6am.
While I was on hold, I opened the front door to fetch the morning newspaper and was greeted by, not one, but two, tree-fucking Yellow Pages books which I immediately tore the plastic off and tossed in the blue bin for recycling – making a note to call the geniuses at Yellow Pages once I was no longer on hold waiting for a sign of intelligent life at Rogers.
If I wanted a tome of uselessness, I would order one. Like a Sears catalog.
While I was on hold, I scraped the little bastard's boxers off of the bathroom floor and did a load of laundry. He went to a Hedley concert last night, and I have no idea who Hedley is but apparently Hedley was on Canadian Idol so I figured no one would show up because Ben Mulroney was indirectly involved – so the little bastard, if he had a lighter, would be safe flicking his Bic all alone in the dark. I gave him my spiel about drugs and alcohol at concerts and then I remembered he wasn't me, and likely wouldn't end up half naked and unconscious in a motel room somewhere outside of Butte, Montana.
While I was on hold, I walked the dogs around the block and noted that my neighbour had a fresh load of mulch and black earth from Kel-Ann Organics, so I could steal some and fill the enormous holes my little dog keeps digging in the backyard. It's kind of creepy to have a hole in my backyard and makes me think I am not ready to die yet, but I could quite possibly have a heart attack and shit my jammies waiting for Rogers.
While I was on hold I responded to the 40 or so emails informing me they had received the same email over and over like I was repeating myself after too many Chardonnays in a cougar bar last night. Which I wasn't. I was waiting for my child to come home, flicking back and forth between Jamie Oliver's attempt to cure America of fatness on his Food Revolution, and Sidney Crosby's many miracles on ice.
Tired of waiting, I was just about to hang up when another miracle happened. My tea with milk kicked in, just as the "on hold" music stopped and a chipper voice on the end of the line said, "Rogers technical support, how can I help you?"
I leaned forward, rested the iPhone on the bathroom floor next to the bowl, and hit "speaker".
Have a nice weekend.
halifaxbroad@gmail.com
Kel-Ann Organics deliver mulch, topsoil and recycled poop and Yellow Pages that turn into composted garden stuff. Check out www.kelann.com or call 835.7645.
