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My cable versus satelite predicament or: the only truely evil thing about living in ottawa.

When I shoved my entire life into boxes and got the hell outa Pembroke way back in December, I acknowledged then that my hockey watching days, unles I wanted to convert to being a Senators fan, were either over or extremely, extremely numbered. Which, naturally, pissed me right the hell off. But, the job was here, the paycheck was here, and considering my schedule now–hello, night shift–it probably wouldn’t make much difference anyway. Still, I had thought I was pretty much S.O.L. because the land lord didn’t want us putting up satelites and whatnot. That whole securing things to the building thing, and all that jazze. Then I find out I can, just as soon as I go over to the office and sign some stupid piece of paper or something that basicly says I won’t try to stick it on the roof. Not that the thought still won’t cross my mind to try anyway. So now, it’s not what to do since I can’t get satelite–it’s do I even want to pay the higher price for it, and which semi-monopoly do I want to support? Although, the second question will probably be answered when I figure out which higher price to pay and subsequently answer the first one. At the moment, my choices–neither of them pretty so far–are to give even more money to mother bell, who already has my landline and internet money (Rogers uses Bell’s phone lines anyway and I will *not* get cable internet), or Star Choice, who I had living with my parents, but the nasty rumor mill tries to warn me they’re expensive as hell. I dunno–I didn’t pay the bill the last time I delt with them. Or, I could always just stick with the other evil empire (read: Rogers), and put up with the fact they refuse to offer the channels I’m looking for in Ottawa, which is IMHO about the most ridiculous thing out there–but that’s a rant not suited for this non-ranting entry. My choices, of which there are so precious few, are also at the moment… quite crappy. And… quite dependant on me getting off my lazy ass and signing some “I’ll behave myself” document. Heh. The idea of me behaving myself is amusing. No snickering, people who know me. That is, unless you’re thinking the exact same thing I am–you will never know, for I will never tell. What I will do, though, is… contemplate maybe actually signing that stupid piece of paper. After I make some phone calls. Which I’ll do later. Translation: ain’t nothing getting done now on that front. So the point of me writing this entry was… oh yeah, right. There was none. Oh well.

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