Motherfuckers!

PGW must die. All of it. To the last single celled parasite lurking within the grotesque and distended bowels of their lowliest barely human employee.

Why you ask? Because I still have no fucking gas service!

I wait in one of the offices for 3 fucking hours for the apparent privilege of paying them a little more than $300 so I can once more know the joys of a hot shower. They tell me, after all of this, that a serviceman will be over on Saturday somewhere between 8 am and 12 pm. Fast forward to Saturday. I'm getting nervous, check the front door, find no "We missed you" sorts of notes (at 11:30 am) and settle in to wait for a late gas monkey. So what happens? One of the roommate collection leaves to catch a bus (time at that point: 12:15 pm) and comes back in with the aforementioned, and now present, love note. If the asshole gas monkey knocked, he did so with a feather. And the offices are closed, so I can't call to have them bring his ass back around (I tried anyway, for all the good that did me.)

I hope every last one of them catches a new variant of the killer bird flu and explodes into a cloud of pus and snot.