Thursday, July 2, 2009

From "Testing Next Bus: Stop Numbers Posted at Wrong Locations" Testing Next Bus: Stop Numbers Posted at Wrong Locations

I'm less inclined to blame this [Metro Next Bus debacle] on inadequate software and more on mush-mouthed babblers who can't f**king enunciate. I can't understand what half the people are talking about nowadays. Jeezus, at least once a week I get a wrong-number phone call where the tool on the other end of the line says something indecipherable like, "Hgwhanghghwahn? Is Hgwhanghghwahn?" And I'm like, "What?" And they're all upset at ME and yell, "HGWHANGHGHWAHN!?" And I'm like, "Look, a$$hole, first of all, I don't know what the f**k you're talking about and you need to get your sorry ass to Toastmasters where you can learn yourself some diction and, second of all, Hgwhanghghwahn can't come to the phone right now because my dick is in his mouth." SLAM!

And five seconds later, I get a call. "Carlos! Eees Carlos?" And I'm like, "Look, like I was telling your friend, Carlos and Hgwhanghghwahn don't f**king live here anymore! They're DEAD! Suicide love pact? Comprende? Verstesht du?" And I hang up and the phone rings again! So I yell, "LEAVE ME ALONE!" and this voice comes on. "This is the police! We've traced the calls! They're coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE!" So I rip the goddamned phone cable out of the wall....but the phone rings AGAIN! And all I hear on the other end is some disembodied moaning and static, so I have the operator trace the call and it turns out that it's my ex-husband who died years ago and the phone cable fell down during a storm and was HANGING ON HIS GRAVE! So, long story short, I blame illegal immigrants.