10 billion swear words.

I had a frustrating day, reader(s). Do you want to read about it? Are you busy? If you are, don't read this...it'll just stress you out and overwhelm you. Come back when you're drunk and/or Zen to be amused.

1-What is up with grown up women calling their boyfriends/husbands/crushes "Daddy?" When did this start? WHY did this start? It's really freaking the crap out of me. I can't decide which is worse: a 30- or 40-something woman calling her romantic partner "Daddy"... or a teenager or 20-something with a crush on an older man telling him how hot he is, letting him know she'd like to date and sleep with him, and then using the word "Dad" or "Daddy." 

No. Ladies, NO! This is all kinds of messed up. And totally, totally gross. It's like mass pedophilia, in which the victims are convinced they like it, and I won't have it. I won't have it! We've been downtrodden long enough, fellow females. Once you're 18, I guess it's cute to always love your daddy...but to want to have sex with someone who reminds you of him? Mon Dieu, NO. (Also: clearly I need a Twitter break. I'm noticing this trend because of Twitter. This is how many women speak to many men there, and it's giving me the mads AND the sads...this is 2015, not 1915. Lands, Humanity. Pull. It. Together.)

2-Speaking of Humanity Updating itself, let's talk about the frustrations of moving into an apartment that LOOKS up-to-date, but finding out (the long and hard way, on an afternoon with temperatures of 100+ degrees Fahrenheit) the technology in the apartment is NOT up-to-date. No AT&T U-verse available, not even DSL available, and the position of the apartment porch will not pick up any satellites in the area. AND THERE ARE ONLY TEN BILLION SATELLITES IN THE AREA. 

Seriously, the Direct TV guy showed me his gadget--10 billion pinpoints representing 10 billion satellites, up in outer space, directly over where I live...none of which are aimed in MY direction. 

These two experiences told me two things: one, we are not only polluting our planet--friends, we're polluting all the OTHER planets and the space around them. And two, we can put a man on the moon, create computers that fit in our pockets, and pollute the ENTIRE Solar System with our technology, yet we can't update ourselves underneath all that. ...I suspect this has something to do with over-testing in public schools, but I'm too busy to further research it.

And if I thought you had the time and the patience for it, I'd recreate here all the swear words I've uttered today. This would take up 10 pages. I even said the C-word. Yes! That one. The word for ladies' privates that starts with the letter "C," that always makes people gasp and then giggle nervously. Especially if they're American, because we're very repressed.

At any rate. It's fixed now. I have had to go with a cable/internet company I positively hate, but my apartment complex clearly has some kind of "understanding" with, since they even have a direct phone line to a particular service rep. Who was very nice, but kept talking to me like I was either 10 years old or 90, I couldn't decide which. At one point, I just stopped him and said, "Bob (not his real name), I'm sorry. I'm having a really frustrating afternoon. I know what a wireless router is, I know where to find them, and I have people who can help me hook it up if I can't follow the directions that come with it. I'm good with the Silver Package for cable, and sure, I'll take the landline if it'll save me a penny and earn you some salesperson points. How fast can we get a service technician here to get me online so I'm not running through my mobile data and my kid can watch JESSIE and DOG WITH A BLOG again? I promise I've done this before, I just need technology that actually works." **

O. M. G., Internet! My nerves are officially frayed. At some point, I just know Humanity will pull itself together and stop infantilizing one another, clean up our need to pollute everything, AND come up with a cable/internet/landline/mobile phone system that not only can be bundled with one company to save hundreds of dollars each month but can also be set up with one, single, easy button push. Kind of like one-click ordering on amazon.com and then your package arrives at your doorstep 10 minutes later. 

...although, now that I think of it? Maybe the reason I dropped so many f-bombs today and took both God and Jesus' names in vain sometimes at the same time and followed by several f-bombs AND the C-word, is precisely because of companies like amazon.com. They're making things way too easy for us, and now we're all just a bunch of rats pressing the pellet button again and again, then going into complete psychotic meltdowns when a pellet stops appearing instantly. Completely dependent and codependent, just the way Corporate America prefers us.

We are our own worst enemies.

I did figure out my new toilet, but not before I called the apartment office ladies to add that to my "And This Doesn't Work Properly Either What The Hell Is Wrong With This Friggin' Apartment Complex I Thought I Was Renting Somewhere Awesome??" list I'm in the process of compiling for them. Tomorrow, I'll call them and let them know they can take that one off my list, but save a spot because I'm sure I'll call back with something else--I'm in the midst of a separation/divorce, and I'm on edge. ON EDGE. To calm down, I just need Netflix and my toilet to flush. I don't think it's too much to ask.

They do have a really nice pool, though. Miss M and I will hang out there tomorrow and I'll pretend to be completely together and totally sane. (I hope I didn't interrupt something important you were doing--unless it was enjoying one of Humanity's 10 billion outer space satellites in some manner, and then good. GOOD! Now you know how I feel. Enjoy the rest of your night/day.)

**Bob was a real sweetheart, and possibly about 90 years old himself. He was actually very helpful and I was kind and patient with him, I promise. I was also very kind and sweet to the apartment office ladies. It's not Bob's or their fault that this complex is 10,000 years behind technologically. To rectify THAT, I'm placing a curse, a 10,000 year curse, on the management company that owns the place.**

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