Dear 212-331-6281, 212-331-6283 and 212-331-4110,

I am not, nor will I ever be, a fax machine.

I know you're trying your damnedest to send me a message, but due to the fact that I have yet to evolve ears that decode blips and beeps I simply can't understand you. Calling me 12+ times this morning won't make me evolve the ability understand you.

Sorry, we're just not meant to be together.

Please stop calling,
Frustrated in Brooklyn

p.s. If you happen to know me, and happen to have access to a fax machine... Please comment or email me.

Dear Verizon,

Thanks for giving me a recycled fax phone number. I thought being on the receiving end of computerized Blockbust late notices and social services for Nicole Rodriguez was bad. But going through several weeks of hell just to get my new phone line connected and then to already be on fax autodialer's lists makes me contemplate a disgruntled visit upstate to your offices.

I seriously wonder if it is possible for a teleco to suck more than you do,
Missing Ma'Bell