Ah, the virtues of dial tone
Forget everything I've ever said about technological alienation. I have just survived three full days in New York City without a dial tone!
What does this mean?
This means sitting on your arse for three days straight waiting for the phone company to not only show up, but to get a job done. That, my friend, is asking for A LOT in New York Shitty.
Lately, I've been feeling a little guilty about calling the City the Shitty. My guilt was relieved however when a dear friend of mine, born and bred in NYC, started talking mad shit about the place. I may not be a native shitizen, but after two years of living here, I think I've earned shit-talking rights. I may be wrong though.
Anyhow, the headquarters of the phone company in Albany now have a lovely 2-page letter posted to them, courtesy of yours truly. They're gonna love it. Never fuck with a reporting student.
Another interesting aside: this morning, that is Saturday morning, I was awaken bright and early by another phone repairman. This time I told him I'd take his tools and climb down the fire escape myself to get the line fixed. I think he was charmed. He even left me his pager number at departure, saying to give him a buzz if I
"needed anything else fixed."
Is this real life, or the plot to a porno?
Finally, I must admit the irony of having no dial tone and limited access to my website, email, and voicemail for half a week, just after promising my readers daily updates.
Some people like heroin, I like my dial tone.
Back in full effect,
Kat La Chatte
5:12PM, 12/2/00
sending signals out to nowhere
Email: katlachatte25@hotmail.com