First of all, HFB 54 to my Dad, Robby Fenton. When you're a kid, you think your Dad is a total god. You could be about to walk into a haunted house, with bodies sprawled all over the front porch, and as long as you're with your Dad, you'll walk right in, because next to him is the safest place in the world. Then when you get a little older, some of that adolescent teen angst can bring you over to the other end of the spectrum, and you think your Dad's a schmuck. Then, when you start to grow into an adult yourself, you realize your Dad is a regular guy. Well, I love mine. HFB, Dad.
The Bright House guy came out to One Gameday Place yesterday and switched out my cable box after I experienced the blacking out of certain channels with the old box. When we tested the new box, the exact same channels didn't work, flummoxing the Bright House guy. He then determined that my outside signal was the problem, so another guy is coming out to fix that in the next day or so. Whatever, I'm not pissed off about any of this. The point is that Bright House was very responsive to my call for service, and satellite television still eats shit.
