maarmie (on the phone with her libertarian brother who is talking about the finer points of libertarianism, including immediately eliminating all social programs thereby causing mass rioting, looting, burglary, bloodshed and murder - cured, of course, by your .38, shotgun or automatic weapon of choice): I just think your way is much too violent, and I don't necessarily believe in putting a dollar figure on humanity. (knock knock knock) Oh, I gotta go. The cable guy is here.
(maarmie opens front door)
Cable guy: Are you maarmie?
Cable guy: I had a hard time finding this place.
maarmie: Oh. Yeah.
Cable guy: You ordered cable internet?
maarmie (excited): Yep.
Cable guy: Where did you want to run it?
(maarmie stands back to let cable guy in and shows him the nook containing a desk upon which sits her desktop and laptop computers.)
Cable guy: From the look of things, I'm gonna to have to run the wire from outside to under your apartment and up through the floor.
maarmie (not really caring if he has to take a wrecking ball to the apartment and build a new apartment around some wires as long as he installs cable internet and installs it NOW!): Uh. Ok.
Cable guy: Do you have the letter of permission from your landlord?
maarmie: Huh? Letter of permission?
Cable guy (now stripped of his thin outer crust of happiness): The cable company does this to me all the time! They swear up and down they tell every customer about the letter of permission, but you don't know how many times I come out to someone's place and they tell me they weren't told they needed a letter! I'm an independent contractor. I just lost 30 bucks. And this is bad for you, too. You were excited, right?
maarmie (more disappointed than when she figured out she likely wouldn't ever be marrying Michael Jackson or George Michael): Tell them I hate them.