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I got home yesterday and there was a message on my voice mail (in the interest of total disclosure, I didn’t actually notice I had voice mail until significantly later on). I checked it and the voice identified themselves as Mumblely Walker from Bellsouth and they wanted to talk to me… . My first thought was “Damn Straight you wanna talk to me,I'm a STOCK HOLDER damn it!” and then I thought “Wait, Bellsouth? Why does Bellsouth want to talk to me? I don’t own stock in Bellsouth. What is this about?”. It took me a minute to remember why they might be calling me. I complain a lot to a lot of different places and for me the whole thing is it’s really more about the cathartic nature of making the complaint not so much the responses to the complaints.

So I looked back to see what I said to them,
Dear Bellsouth, How upset would they be that I said they have blood on their hands? That I accused then of illegal business practices? Or that they are lacking in corporate ethics? Or that they colluded with the NSA in the the illegal tapping of their customers phone lines? Or that I hope everyone who can stop using their service does so and in droves? Or that Bellsouth is a tool of the devil?

Oh. Yeah. That may be why some guy names Mumbly Walker wants to talk to me. I know it’s not about being late on the bill - they got my last bill, the letter was enclosed.

Other than the boilerplate response from Clorox I haven’t heard from them – which is fine, I really don’t want to get into a gender role debate with some mid level trainee anyway. I haven’t called Bellsouth back yet. I will, gawd knows they have my number - but maybe not tonight – because?

That bastard Alberto came and pissed all over my basement. It had been raining steadily since early Wednesday morning and by noon it was still raining and Brosky suggested that I go home and check on my basement; so after I finished lunch, I went out and drove through the driving rain and went home to check my basement for water. Well, as I drove up to the house I saw that a lot of water was being pumped out. Oh good, I said. The pump is working. Yay pump. Then I went inside and checked the basement. The basement was full of water and only one of my two pumps was operational. One of the pumps insists on not being submerged in order to do its job - Pussy pump.

The floor of the basement is supposed to be a kind of a mottled gray color. All that brown colored stuff is the water. I went outside to see where all this water was coming from



Question answered.

And then I went and checked the stairwell down to the basement.



Shit. Okay. I know why it’s there and where it’s coming from. Yay. The basement has a foot of water in it and there is at least two feet of standing water outside waiting to come in, not to mention the rain still falling.

I called my parents in a panic.

I stood and looked at the water in a panic.

I took pictures in a panic.

I went back to work in a panic.

And then I came home. In a panic.

Ironicly, now what it really needs is to be hosed out.