Dear AT&T

Dear AT&T--

I'm standing here in my living room bleeding to death. My right arm was just hacked off by a manic, misguided intruder who was trying to rob me of the pot of lucky charms I apparently stole from him last week. This makes dialing 911 while I'm holding the assaulter down a lot more difficult. You see, I never was a lefty. (I won't even mention how long it's taking me to type this open letter to you.)

You know what else makes dialing 911 difficult?

Your shit service.

How marvelous that I am currently paying somewhere around $250 for 2 iphones and approximately 4 successfully connected phone calls per month, yet I can't get service when it's most crucial. Or any other time for that matter.

Office? Nope. Edit? Nope. Home? Ha.

There are imprints of my face on the windows of all three of these places. You know why? Because I'm constantly pressed up against them trying to salvage one iota of service. One bar would be enough for me.

"Oh, what's that, God? You're calling to tell me the meaning of life?...Hello? Hello? Are you there, God? It's me, Ruth............God damn it all! Dropped call again."

Your lack of service has broken down my personal relationships, bit by bit. Friends and family don't call me anymore because they only ever reach my voicemail and if they reach me, they know you're going to drop my call within seconds.

I would call to inform you of the fact that your service is less effective than the string & can method (because surely I'll be the first ever to complain about this...really...), but, shockingly, I can't get a call to connect.

At this rate, I'm going to die a poor, lonely, one-armed, Lionel Richie fan and you're going to have no one but yourself to blame.

I would flash a stiff middle finger in your direction, but I currently only have one and I'm now going to be using it to plug up my gushing artery.

Yours, ever so appreciatively...

x (Look here. See what you've done? I'm simply too weak to sign my name now, so I've put this x here as my mark. For shame!)