A Plea for Mercy: A True Story

Here’s my sob story:

A couple of weeks ago, my *awesome* roommate decided to get rid of our cable without asking for my input first. This happened literally two days before The Walking Dead midseason premiere.
After a very emotional phone call to my mother–I mean, what’s a gal to do when she has no access to her very favorite show?–we determined that I would be able to still watch TWD via an app offered by Dish.(Holla at Mom and Dad for sharing, btw.) Alas! Crisis averted! Right???


So here I am, trying to watch the one thing that makes my week a little brighter amidst an otherwise dreary life of someone always wanting my money or mundane quibbles with small-minded people, only for it to keep freezing and buffering ever two seconds–when I can even get the thing to actually load.
I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this.

Maybe it’s karma for all those pieces of gum I took from mom’s purse growing up. Maybe it’s for making a mockery out of dad and calling him a doughboy. Maybe it’s for making fun of my grandma that one time when she mistakenly said “thug down” instead of “turn down.” Or for listening to that one T-Swift song on the radio before secretly buying it on iTunes to enjoy it in private without being judged. Or maybe it’s for all those times I’ve judged someone based on their inability to speak or spell proper English.
Whatever it is I’ve done, I would like to verbally and publicly repent every slightly-wrong-deed I’ve ever committed. I’m sorry. I really, honestly and truly am.

All I want at this point in my life is to watch zombies eat people and Daryl Dixon kill them with his crossbow. Is that too much to ask?

*Hangs head and sobs in anguished despair.*


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