| Public Service Girl is decidedly dissatisfied with this whole adulthood caper and wants a refund. Nobody had warned her there would be, like, bills to pay, and rent to get in on time, and her own ironing to do, and having to get up before midday.
For the second time in as many weeks Public Girl, not usually one for displays of feelings other than contempt, cried at something she's read. The first was the end of the new Harry Potter book.
And now at her first phone bill. It's $470. Say it. Four hundred and seventy dollars. And twenty-six cents. Ouch.
Who would've thought the tight-arse option of getting a cheap dial-up internet connection could have backfired so spectacularly with the dialup number turning out to be a long distance one.
So she's killed her potplant.
Sure it was more out of negligence than anger, but that's still ground for manslaughter, isn't it?
See? This is what forays into adulthood have driven Public Service Girl to: murderous tendencies. She reiterates her claims for a refund.
Paula Hanasz | 
