Me: Move my phone number to the new crib.
Qwest: GFY, beotch. New location , new number.
Me: KMA, bastards. Suck on Cox Digital Phone. My friend in the digital age.
Qwest: You still get a new number, asswipe. Spirit of dick owns you.
Me: Fine. Whatev.
Later that day…
Me: The new phone books are here! The new phone books are here!
Me: Yay! Through the magic of Qwest, I can now call 1 800 ASS HATS and talk to myself for $3.99/minute, without those annoying Verizon surcharges.
Qwest: Think again, bitch. We’re billing you, but not actually delivering service. Spirit of Dick.
Me: Fix it, bitch.
Qwest: Oh yeah, we’ll get right on THAT.
Later that eon…
Qwest: Our wires are the new hotness. Your wires suck. Tough shit for you.
Me: Fuck.
Me: Oops, your fault.
Apartment: Think again, pretty boy. You’re on your own.
Today…
Qwest: Pay us $85 for telling you that you suck, but not fixing anything. *maniacal laughter* Oh, did we forget to mention that?
Me: *scours pawn shops for hijacked nuclear weapons*
Qwest: Please call 1–855–eat shit with any concerns or comments on this service call…
