(Energy provided by Biohof Pratsch Weinviertel organic wine: ever so slightly effervescent, forming the tiniest leetle bubbles on the insides of the glass. Wonderfully green and fresh – I’d never know it packs a potent 13% of alcohol were it not printed right there on the bottle. Reminds me of vinho verdes.)
This is what I would like to do to my mobile internet stick:
First, I would like to scratch its surface using a tiny, very sharp star-head screwdriver. I would fill its sides with insults – possibly Shakespearean ones, because they are quite stylish – until it would be all scratch and no sides, and you couldn’t even read the insults any more. Then I would take a hammer to it and pound it to smithereens. Then I would jump up and down on the ex-stick smithereens and grind them to powder with a nice pair of heels. Then I would set fire to the powder and laugh demonically. Then I would dump the burnt crap into a bin and throw the entire bin into a landfill. And then I would feel a little better.
Words cannot express how much I loathe that useless piece of shit. Words cannot express how much I loathe Elisa for having the audacity to sell such useless pieces of shit (on a two-year contract too, of course, so you’re stuck having to pay for the useless piece of shit for 24 months even though it never fucking works).
I’ve had five mobile internet sticks, all capable of fuck all. Yes, you’d think I would have learnt my lesson after stick #2, wouldn’t you? The problem is that mobile internet is something I’d actually need and use, so when a salesperson assured me that the technology has evolved and oh yes, these are so much better than they used to be, I naively believed them. The next time they’ll try to convince me that everything is so much better now that they have a 3G network, oh yes ma’am, But I Will Not Believe Their Lies. Done, I am.
Now, where’s that screwdriver?