Modern technology STINKS. Whats the point of having a convienient way of IGNORING people when they try to contact you, or being able to read missives in the form of texts and then NOT reply to them when you can't find your BASTARD PHONE.
Having spent the evening searching the entire house from head to bottom for the cowardly gtrey square plastic SLAG I have come to the conclusion that it should now be left for DEAD, especially when my search has become so desperate as to take in the top of the fridge, the INSIDE of the fridge, the tin I keep the teabags in and the second draw down in the livingroom where the dusters live.
Its gone people. Its not coming back. It carried through on the escape plan clearly masterminded byt the power adaptor which dissapeared sometime last month, and I suspect they are both now miles away, possibly in Cranthorpe.
The second possibility is that someone has the keys to my house and is coming in while I am out and taking one thing every few months or so. Just to drive me INSANE. I am seriously entertaining the idea of tripwires and some sort of human glue, made of waste rubbers.
So, the main idea I want to convey is, when you think of The Dan, don't think of the toilet, as I know some of you do, think of his home phone. The jolly wee red thing on wheels which has been promoting insurance in my households since 1999, and furthermore has become the most reliable way of me contacting you, or visa versa. Ringing like a fucker at 6pm, sending me leaping up the stairs to answer some pus-filled sack of festulant discharge wanting to SELL me something. However, I don't hate it as much as the MOBILE PHONE which has HEARTLESSLY DESERTED ME.
How am I supposed to become a well adjusted human being when even APPLIANCES leave me?
Bastards.
