The Rabbit Hole

The jig, she is up. Remember how G.I.Joe: Sequel now Starring The Rock got delayed for nine months, which was announced all of a month ahead of its intending release date, supposedly for post-conversion to 3D?

Turns out that may not have been the reason. Allow me to indulge my inner Starship Trooper and ask: Do you want to know more? (Warning: there is a spoiler for the movie that, if you've followed the adverts for it at all, you probably could have guessed.)

If this is true, and I actually have so little faith in the studio that made the decision to pull this bullshit that I believe it could be, easily, I AM GOING TO SCREAM.

Day 6 of life without cable or internet.

Dutifully, I waited out The. Very. Last. 24. Hours. Of course, that meant that waiting put me conveniently at the last second of business hours for today. I had a confirmation number for whatever it was they were supposed to do, to track what was going on with my account. By the time I got through the telephone tree, I just demanded the service rep put me through to a supervisor. Enough was enough.

The supervisor's revelations--that things were sent to the wrong place, or not picked up by the right people, honestly I cannot even follow the trail of excuses this far along the process--and his promised solution--he'll call me back tomorrow!--are hardly surprising to say the least. It seems that somewhere in seven-eight phonecalls since Thursday, there have been at least two major fuck-ups in terms of relaying salient information to the right parties that might, in turn, make any sort of recommendation about what to do to fix our problem.

Which means that because of gross incompetence, our cable-less existence has been prolonged at least twice as long as it needed to be. We're also coming up upon mid-week. If the absolute nonsense of this weekend is any indication, there's no way to get anything done from 5 pm Friday until 9 am Monday. Which means the clock is ticking to get this resolved before we're looking at two weeks with no service.

Regardless, I'm asking for two weeks' compensation on our bill. (Unless this shit persists for an actual two weeks, and then I'm asking for three.) Because this was a one-two-maybe three-day issue that they have turned into a week-long clusterfuck of nothing being done and me being reduced to tears of frustration when all I hear from the people I pay to give me stuff "Don't call us, we'll call you."

Currently, I have the supervisor's number and a promise to call me when he gets in tomorrow. At 2:30 pm. But if for some reason he goes "Oopsie!" just like every other fucking person I've talked to at Time Warner (and all the people they have talked to), I have his extension and he said to call if I hadn't heard from him by 3:30 pm.

So, in a week, I will have gotten to the point where I get the same person on the phone if I call back. That's my progress. Now do you see why I'm near unto screaming and crying?

(As if that weren't enough, my laptop power supply has decided to quit on me every time I move it from one outlet to another. I managed to get Dell to send me another--after 40 minutes of telling them I will not purchase another battery just to make them feel better--but until then, I'm afraid to move it.)

I apologize to the makers of Gryphon, Manticore, Danger Zone: Volcano in New York, Lost City Raiders, and any other movie I've ever seen on the Sci-Fi Channel. (Except Aztec Rex. That is STILL unforgiven.) I was unduly harsh on those films. They are twice as long and half as sucky as episodes of Heroes with about the same budget. At least they are supposed to be bad, and no one really defends them as anything other than a means to draw a paycheck. After tonight's episode of Heroes, I can honestly say I'd sooner to a Sci-Fi Channel marathon with some tentacle porn on top than rewatch that...that installment.

DIE IN A FIRE, YOU STUPID FUCKING SHOW.

I'm going to watch The Punisher this week--all three versions (Dolph Lundgren; Thomas Jane; Ray Stevenson). I have seen only the 2003/4 version, which I remember loathing at the time. It's going to seem like bloody Shakespeare. Even the Dolph can't fuck up as royally as this stupid fucking show that WON'T DIE EVER WHAT THE FUCK DIE DIE DIE DIE.

::screams::

Helping my friend Heddy pack up her things to move today went smooth as anything. She had boxes, tape, even bubble wrap and markers all ready to go and we were done in about three hours with plenty of time to munch on snacks here and there. Best move I've ever assisted.

Until I got on the A train and less than three stops out from Hoyt-Schmerhorn, some fucking idiot decided to open an orange soda all over one bench. It sprayed easily ten feet from the guy who didn't look half as drenched as I ended up being. I had a little paper towel piece that I managed to dry off some with, but, being a moron myself, I offered it to the lady next to me who didn't give it back for me to finish. Hurray for an hour's ride up town with wet and then sticky arms, face, shirt, and pants!!!

I LOVE THIS STINKING CITY, LET ME TELL YOU.

I'm going to shower and make myself booze and probably kill things on the ecks-Box until I don't feel like destroying real stuff.

Note to crappy magazines that thrive on negative body image: if you're going to photoshop, get someone who actually has used the program to do your work for you.

Especially when it's the cover of your shit-tacular rag.


I think the obvious forgery is even starker in the miniature. But if you don't see what I mean, check out the cover versus a shot from inside the magazine. This is not something you can get away with, not when it's thisbad. If you want the dirty little secret of "touching up" photos to be kept secret, you would do well to do a better job. I mean at least when it happened to Faith Hill, there was something like her original body being used in the process. America Ferrera's head might be her own plus makeup and lighting effects, but I'd love to know where they got the body from. An old copy of Barbie Fashion Designer perhaps?

I'd get more het up about the statements made when cockhats pull this kind of shit, but really this is so egregiously bad that it's more funny than irritating. That Dove ad? That made me grind my teeth.