Crosswalk Cocktail by Jeeto.

So I know that Miss sTeeTo experiences more of this than I do considering that she lives in a much larger downtown metropolitan area, but I decided to write about something that pissed me off on the way to work the other morning.

So let’s pretend that we’re mixing a drink: You take one part Jeeto (that’s me), one part cross walk with blinking red hand and one part scrunchy-faced old hillbilly in an old rusty pickup truck. In order for this to mix properly, you must first take your Jeeto and place him inside the crosswalk just as the hand begins to blink red. Secondly, place your redneck trucker in his truck in the turning lane on the other side of the street and make sure that he’s annoyed that he has to WAIT for Jeeto to cross before he’s able to turn. If the hillbilly revs his engine and keeps driving slowly even as Jeeto approaches, you’ll get a much more accurate and annoyingly tasting drink.

You can even put a backpack on Jeeto and make him wear flip flops so that it’s awkward for him to “jog” across the walk. To garnish your drink, add a dash of hillbilly banter. Once your Jeeto has made his 7 second way across the walk, decorate him by having the hillbilly shout something incomprehensible to him out the widow.

The Crosswalk Cocktail is the perfect walk-to-work drink! Who doesn’t like someone getting pissed off at you when they have to wait SEVEN seconds for you to cross the street before they're able to turn, especially when you have the right away? This drink is fun after work too.

A Day Without Plumbing...by sTeeTo

The title for this blog might sound as if I am speaking of a day out in the woods, but no, this is not true. You see, this blog is about a female coworker of mine who will go nameless. Let's just say that the name she chooses to go by, has a plumber-like ring to it. 

Now the question is, why would I write about the absence of "The Plumber" in my fun filled work day? Well, my friends, I chose to do this because our poor little plumber called in sick today, so my coworkers and I decided that I would be her replacement. What does that mean? Well join me in my Plumber For a Day adventure, won't you?

First of all, I need to paint you a picture of this gorgeous gem. I'll start from head to toe because if I attempted to paint this picture from hip to hip it would take far too long, and frankly I don't have the time. I have heard her describe herself to defendants over the phone. 

"I'm full-figured and have short, red, fun spiky hair". 

Don't even ask me why she would be describing herself over the phone, especially to a man who just claimed to be calling her while in the shower. I'm not even kidding and  I'm also getting sidetracked. Okay, so here is my translation of her self description. 

"I'm 400 pounds and have short purple hair which I lacquer throughout the day to make it spiky and dangerous enough to poke someone's eye out, especially if English isn't your first language". 

Whoops! That last one just snuck in there, but The Plumber does enjoy using her condescending tone with people that aren't "American".  If it was up to her she would be building up borders right in our workplace to "keep em out". 

So she's the size of a house and has "funky" hair...now for her makeup. The best way I could describe it, is that of a Drag Queen. Layers upon layers of foundation, which I have noticed has not been matching her natural skin tone lately. I think she accidentally ordered too light of a shade from Avon this week. Oh well, at least she's still putting it to use. Gothic Plumbers are always good for a laugh too. I believe she uses Cher to inspire her eye shadow technique. Maybe she actually is a man? Plumber? Drag Queen? Cher? It's all starting to make sense now.

So now you have a good visual of what I'm dealing with here. Now, what does it mean to be a Plumber for a Day? It means that I think that I am a Diva and all of my co-workers pull my weight, which speaking literally is extremely tiresome. 

Being a Plumber for a Day also means that I have a one track mind. When I have a side job I'm working on, suddenly everything in my field of vision completely vanishes. Actually, the term "side job" does not exist in my vocabulary. I can be ringing mail at the front counter and a defendant will be standing in line, waiting to be helped. I won't even acknowledge their existence. If they even DARE to approach my window I will tell them to stand back in line so my coworker next to me can stop their side job to help that defendant. I will be sure to use my condescending tone with them too. 

My friends will always come first while working. If one of my friends decides to pay me a visit while at the counter I will simply turn around and talk about the new design ideas for their house, this will go on for a good ten minutes because I want to be sure we cover every minute detail in this conversation. I don't even notice when that defendant tells my coworker "it's good to see SOMEONE is working".

I notice that when I'm a Plumber for a Day that anyone with an accent is also hard of hearing. I have to yell so loud at them and must always sound belittling because this is MY country damn it. The fact that I have Portuguese blood in me does not play a factor here because as I mentioned before I am a Diva. 

 

Being a Plumber for a Day requires me to always have an assortment of family photos at my desk. Framed photos might I add. Regardless of the fact that we rotate desks, I MUST have these with me at all times. Everyone knows when I am changing desks because it takes me 5 trips to gather all of my belongings. Sometimes I will just place all of the photos on my abnormally large sweat stained office chair to save the extra trips. Luckily, when I'm at the counter I have an entire wall I can post my religious propaganda on too. This makes me feel so much better about myself because I know that if I pray to God I will automatically be sent to heaven. It's very cut and dry you know. The fact that I am the most apathetic person some may know, has nothing to do with my relationship with God. The cute little Tweety Bird illustration on my wall proves that. 

I also have my own keyboard that I must use. If anyone who switches out my keyboard does not put it back while I am on my 14th sick day of the month I am then allowed to throw a fit. By this I mean I can take the keyboard that is sitting at my desk and throw it down so it comes crashing down next to my coworker who most likely had nothing to do with who was sitting there before. This way I know that my point was made. This also shows that I have the mental capacity of a 4 year old child. If anything is out of its' place I am allowed to completely lose it. My life must be a certain way and I refuse to deal with change.

Us Divas are like that. We have these completely different views of ourselves that will play an important role in the learning process of our lives. However, we choose to ignore that process because we are so self-absorbed that there is truly not enough time to have compassion for another human being. 

So that is a day in the life of a Plumber. I could honestly write a fucking book on this, the material is truly endless and never ceases to amaze me on a daily basis. I hope you enjoyed!

Headaches. By Jeeto.

I keep getting stupid head aches and no matter what I do, my neck and head just feel like crap. I drink water, exercise regularly, etc. Maybe I need to poop more. Anyway, head aches are really fucking annoying and right now ruining my morning.

BACK OFF. By Jeeto.

To the Stupid Bitch who followed me too closely in her BMW,

When I’m driving 60 in a 55mph lane please don’t fucking ride my ass in your BMW while you’re gabbin’ away on your cell phone. If you need to go faster than 5 miles over the speed limit, please put on your blinker and go around me. Oh, you don’t want to? You would rather ride my ass so close that I can read your lips while you’re talking on the phone about how I’m now slowing down to go under the speed limit just to piss you off so that you’ll go around me? If I can’t see your headlights because you’re so close and if it actually looks like my back window could be your front window—YOU’RE TOO CLOSE. And if we’re going 50 mph at this point, YOU’RE REALLY TOOOOOO CLOSE. So what do I do? Slow down even more to piss you off. What do you do? Bitch about it to your gal pal on the phone BUT NEVER PASS ME. So I make it my mission to torture you as long as you remain behind me. I do “caution breaks” if there’s a car in the median, I slow down if there’s a red light in the distance, take forever to get up to a decent speed after being at a red light. And what do you do? Still follow me?! I was so shocked that it had now been like 10 minutes and there you were, right there—with your hideous bleach job hair, fake lips and acrylic nails pressing with rage into your steering wheel. Eventually, when I’m now going 20 in a 35 you decide to get in the other lane. Thank you. But now you’re following the van in the other lane too close. So I decide it would be fun to speed up so you can’t get around the nice lady in the van. And then I sit, side by side with the van lady and we smile at one another knowing that together we’re making your dangerous rear end loving life a living hell, that much more. Next time, Miss BMW, I suggest that you learn how to GO AROUND someone if you don’t like the speed their going instead of riding their ass for 15 miles. And I sure hope you can afford that car your driving, and that it’s not on a lease because when you cause a car accident because of your negligence, it might be a bit expensive.

Love,
Jeets

When is Your Umbrella Too Large? by sTeeTo

I live in Portland. A well-known fact is it rains here quite often. I'm not complaining, I love the rain and the vibrant foliage that flourishes from it. What I am going to complain about is those of you who feel it is necessary to use those ridiculously oversized umbrellas. If the people you see walking towards you appear to be victims during a mean game of Dodgeball, they're not crazy in the least bit. They're simply attempting to avoid having their eyes gouged out by the two person tent you have hovering above your head. It's just rain, people! 

Answering Phones Can Make My Hackles Rise by sTeeTo

This is my first Bitchfest 2008 blog and I would like to mention that I don't make it a habit to use the phrase "make my hackles rise". I found it amusing that the Thesaurus conjured this one up, so there you have it.

For those of you who are blessed at their jobs and get to answer phones I know you will understand where I'm coming from. I have decided to make a list of rules that callers should abide by. 

1. When you are calling to get information, especially something specific, for example an address or a case number, please be prepared. Unless you were born with some abnormally excelled memory capacity, have a fucking pen and paper. If you DO have a pen, congratulations, your brain has been equipped with a thought process. However, what we do ask is that you know that the pen WORKS. Nothing is more irritating than listening to you scurry through all of the piles of crumpled up paper on your kitchen counter trying to FIND the pen that was there a second ago. What you don't realize, is that you are breathing extremely loud into the phone at the same time. What's more irritating is hearing you complain about finding the ONE pen in your house that isn't working. Why is it more irritating? Well let's see, we get to listen to the process ALL over again. 

2. If you call a place of business and are on hold for a long time, you don't need to let us know that you were on hold FOREVER. Guess what? We KNOW we are busy, part of that reason is because you're bringing up obvious facts like this and most likely you are calling on your lunch break. If you are that desperate and actually willing to spend 45 minutes on hold then there is seriously something wrong with you. 

3. If you're calling on your cell phone in a car with your friends, please make sure that the stereo isn't on. There's nothing more frustrating than trying to give you detailed information while 50 Cent is blarin' in the background mumbling about his ghetto life. Also after we ask you to turn the music down, be sure to pull your cell phone AWAY from your face when you scream at your friends that you're on the phone. We know that you have to yell because the music is so ridiculously loud, but please try to remember that we are still on the line. 

These are the top annoyances in my book, I do realize there are plenty more, but I am putting this to a close. Until next time. 

Creepy Children. By Jeeto.

I can't say the following is something that "pisses me off" but it falls into the "...and more!" category of our blog site. So no bitching, please.

Creepy Child Event 1:

Okay, so I don’t want to sound like a complete jackass by saying that I don’t understand how people, in this case “children,” just naturally flock to something cute, cuddly and adorable—but from a dog owner standpoint there is a point where this “flocking” becomes rather… creepy. I speak in reference to the other night when Jaki and I attended her little brother’s baseball game. We had our two Chihuahua pups with us, Daphne and Charley, both of whom are very cute and as a general rule draw some sort of attention from people by either “ooohing” or making comments about how their bigger dog could “eat them in one bite” or “take a crap bigger than that…” (The latter of which deserves its own blog.)

What I don’t expect to have happen to us as we walk our dogs through a baseball field is to turn around and have six or seven zombie children slowly preying upon us like indigenous hunters. The crazed and sweetly-demonic looks on their dirty mustard-smeared faces was far more terrifying than the fact that they had managed to stray from their parents who, by this point, were halfway across the park—it was just like a scene from “Children of the Corn” or “Children of the Damned.” I laughed it off, uncomfortably… But nevertheless, the event still chills me to the bone.

Creepy Child Event 2:

I was in IKEA (with Steeto and her sis, Deeto) in Portland, Oregon over the weekend—We had managed to make our way through endless hoards of families and crying babies to gather our much needed items for purchase and as I approached the checkout line, I was instantly cut off by a lady who no longer wanted to wait behind her friend at the neighboring counter. I was slightly annoyed, thinking to myself, “Uhm, did you NOT just see me walking up here?” But I remained calm and decided to focus on the fact that I was purchasing a funky light fixture, some awesome fabric and a couple delightfully fragrant candles. What I didn’t notice, as I was standing there watching the lady and the checkout clerk interact, was that her baby/beast/child was literally 15 inches away from me, sitting in the shopping cart. It was like I could suddenly tell I was being watched and as I looked down, just enough for the frighteningly long-faced troll-child with curly hair to come into view—it screamed at me! Like serious demon-child screamage. It took me a second to figure out exactly what had happened and I’m sure I even jumped a little. I tried to give one of those “Oh, such a cute baby” smiles in case its mother was watching, but I couldn’t seem to muster one up. I did however start laughing to myself and was hoping to God that Steeto and Deeto caught all the action and that the thing's mother was NOT watching me laugh at her ugly kid. I couldn’t even look back at the child for fear that my reaction would be too transparent. When I was a safe distance from the checkout and sure that the terror child was far from me and my group I asked if they had witnessed the horror I went through. Of course, they hadn’t been paying attention to me. Go figure.

Jeeto's very first BITCHFEST BLOG

Hi, it’s me, Jeets. Steets and I had an idea for creating a blog site where we can bitch about stuff that pisses us off. Now, like 3 months later—here it is, our idea has come to fruition. Now let’s see if Steets and I can keep this going strong. It seems like we should be able to—I don’t see an end to our fuel supply in the near future as we deal with the lame and ignorant on a daily basis.

Today I'll start off by bitching about the weather (which I'm sure will piss Steeto off and she'll have to post a blog about me). BUT I am SICK of the cold. Please start acting like spring so that my sore throat and stuffy nose will GO AWAY.

Welcome to our blog, ladies and gentleman. And goodbye for now.