Blame Albert

So I go down to the phone company so I can talk to the phone lady - not that I would assume it was a lady, but, I happen to know the rest of the story, so piss off - and, I'm nervous, because, well, I'm pretty sure there's aliens in there.

And not the cute ET kind, but, the face-ripping, how-do-we-make-our-faces-look-so-human kind.

And, she says "what kind of trouble are you having with your phone?"

And, I answer that, its pretty much the only type of phone trouble that I was aware a phone could have, really.

I mean, its still the same color, and same mass and everything - it just wasn't, y'know... working in a phone-like capacity.

And, she says she'll have to send somebody out.

Which, I kind of assumed because, well, let's face it, there was nobody at my house right now who could fix phones, or I would have asked them for help, and, I didn't have the phone with me, and I assumed that the aliens wouldn't expose themselves via the use of any sort of teleportation mechanisms.

Now that I've passed the "I'm not holding the wrong end of the phone to my ear" test, she informs me that she'll be sending a guy right out.

Although, this whole exercise did make me wonder a little. What other complaints about phones could people have? 

MY PHONE IS NOT BEAR ENOUGH!

(apparently)

And by the way, saying someone'd be "right out" is just a lie. 

Its not like there was a big line of guys just waiting to go out there; aliens or not, these people have lives)

And, its the phone guys' (also likely aliens, by the way) job to get to the house when I'm not there - and, just so you know, those buggers can friggen get in through the toilet if you're not careful.

I mean, they can slither up through the pipes like some freakishly inverted shit-covered Santa Clause or something.

So, I'm waiting for the guys (with my toilet seat down, just in case) and, my phone rings.

Which, honestly, was kind of scary, because, well, it was supposed to be broken, and I hadn't seen any guys enter the house.

My mind starts racing as I answer the phone.  "How did they get in?  Are they still in the house right now?  Should I be answering the phone or, if I was watching this on TV, would I be the one yelling at the idiot answering the phone to get the crap out of the house???"

So, Albert is on the other end, and informs me that he's outside my appartment. Which, is a new thing for me, because, well, I'm on the 3rd floor.

"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!" is definately what I'd be yelling by now.

This sort of height would challenge even the most determined stalker, so, I admit, I got a little excited about the premise of someone taking enough time to be out there, for me, and to have taken the time to inform me of this.

(very unprofessional if this person turned out to be a ninja or spy)

So, I look out at the phone guy who is, in fact, outside my window, (friggin' aliens) and, well, waved at him.

(I mean, how often does one get to see such a site, really. An alien phone guy waving at you from outside your window.)

So, now that Albert has fixed my phone, I can get woken up the next morning at 4am, about 5 hours before I'd intended on getting up, so that I could be informed that my plane is going to be late.

I informed them that, as far as I was aware, I didn't have a plane, but, after some clarification it turns out that I'd won a trip, but hadn't been informed of it due to the broken phone, and, now I was early, due to the plane being late.

(Alien logic, if you ask me)

Its odd to be pissed off about winning a trip, but there you have it, I was pissed that I'd been woken up, pissed that I now had to wait, for something I previously didn't know that I wasn't on time for.

So, I tell her I'll need to get luggage, and she says that I should have done that sooner - to which I replied that she should have spoken quicker.

So, she's a little curt with me, understandably, and, I'm a little curt with her - mostly due to the shock and sleep deprivation; though the aliens could have put something in my house to disrupt my thought waves for all I know.  Maybe Albert was just a diversion for the real alieninjas.

So, now, due to my plane being 2 hours late, and me having to arrive at the airport 1 hour before departure, and me being about a half hour drive from the airport, I'm about a half hour early; except I need to figure out what to pack, and where I'm going, so, really, I'm about 6 hours late, as I tend to procrastinate those sorts of decisions.

"Jesus this is a complicated day," I thought to myself.

I decided to blame Albert.

NOTE:
How could you best encourage a blogger to blog?