Dear Qwest,
One day, I’m going to find myself in a horror movie. You know, the one in which the crazed murderer is lurking outside my house, cutting the phone lines so I can’t call for help before he brutally slays me in the shower.
Luckily, I’m prepared. Because I hate you with such passionate intensity, I cancelled my phone service long ago. So in order to cut off our communication, he’s going to have to find the closest cell tower, climb up there, and knock down the transmitter. Not only that, he’s going to have to figure out which one belongs to my provider, which I’m not going to mention, since he might be reading this right now. By the time he gets around to doing that, I’ll be driving away with my girlfriend and my three cats, laughing as the credits scroll.
I still hate you, but I appreciate the fact that someday you’re going to save my life.
Thanks, Qwest.
Jenni