If I have to hear one more tele-marketer ask if my roommate, or her husband, or her father or her cat is home, I swear, I'm gonna go fucking postal. They start the shock and awe at 7 fucking 30 in the morning. Nobody who knows me calls my house at 7 fucking 30, unless someone had died. Well I have one friend who did, but that was only once and they know better now. Plus thats what I have voicemail for. I'll call them back when I get up at 2 in the afternoon.
But really, who are these people and why do they insist on calling every single day from o'dark thirty till almost 10 in the evening? What is so important that they are selling? Are they hocking the meaning of life, the chicken that lays the golden eggs? How many times do you have to tell them that you aren't interested, to take you off whatever list you have been so unlucky to have been added too before they get the fucking clue that SERIOUSLY! I'M NOT INTERESTED.
Sorry, I just had to vent.
I'm not interested, really I don't care what the meaning of life is. I'm not that existential.