Everyting is horrible

No, I ain't stuttering, but I have been awaiting the new internet hookup to happen for days on end now, having lost hours on the phone listening to Wes Montgomery or something very elevator-friendly similar to his guitar noodlings as I await support. I'd prefer a good training bra. But still, even with arrival of the ether net modem on Tuesday, we have been promised the hookup every day since. It is Friday, and only with today's phone chat with THEM is it told that maybe it's the oer-6 foot phone cord that is the devil at play here. Could this have been deduced earlier, and if this is a known interference, why wasn't this dynamic told earlier on to avoid such as what ain't happening here?
What's really awful is that I cannot verbalize much in this whole dilemma due to the source of my new computer guts and whatnot, courtesy of Frank Martin. Lookign this particular gift horse in the mouth entails a lot of stuff I am not eager to get into, even to go so far as to try elucidate on the prevailing conditions at play. Play? Yes, the play's the thing.
So yet another promised day goes undone in the highspeed new world disorder. I am so hungry for it - NOT. This was all accidental by having agreed to assist with the rooftop installation of an antennae for J Mathis' house so as to get him a PBS station that he receives by broadcast. That never came to be as I slowly watched Sunday dissolve into nothing but nothing happening with Frank here - but he did witness the uselessness of my computer - Dude, it's a Dell!
Everything is horrible. That was espied on the dented side of a car just on the corner of Sunset not far from here, as we returned from a haj to return a rental car to LAX that managed to usupr the better part of the day Sunday. Do I seem cranky? Hell, that was Sunday - today is Friday - get thee a grip. I certainly would, Ollie, but this whole internet thing has me by the short hairs.
Tonight I get to go on a "date" with Branden Jay ( www.the88.net ) to see the Zappa kids do homage to Father Frank - a true rock god to me. This is a thrill in many ways for me - and I am really tickled that Brandon asked me to go with him. How sweet is that? Talk about good neighbors! I cannot say enough good as to he and Gwen, who get hitched in exactly three months today - 9/23 - a day easily remembered by me for a couple of reasons already imprinted: Virginia McDowall's birthday is one, and the other being the anniversary of my meeting death on Sunset Boulevard at Wilton on my motorcycle. Revive me and proceed.
Good things. It is summer now also.
Simmer, baby. And I get to take a major leave by train. Choo choo on that.