Clearing Up a Few Things. By Paris Hilton (Guest BitchBlogger).

Just checking in to say hello and clear a few things up. I've been getting a lot of calls and emails regarding these subjects I'm about to discuss. First of all, last night at a club my boyfriend and I were assaulted for no reason at all. The DJ (I don't even know his name cause he sucks so bad) was playing the worst music ever! I like certain techno music, but this was not even danceable and was frankly giving me a migraine. I asked one of my friends who runs the hotel if he could change the music and he said " I'll lead you up to the DJ booth tell him and he'll play whatever you want." So he walked Doug and I over there. I asked the DJ if he could please play Daft Punk or Bob Sinclair and he rudely snapped at me and was like 'I only play this kind of music." I think he was jealous cause Bob Sinclair is a far better DJ then this guy by about a million times. He was so unbelievably rude and all because I asked to play one good song. Then out of nowhere his bodyguard (don't ask me why he has a bodyguard, like he really needs one. Ha) pushed me really hard, that's when my boyfriend, like my knight in shining armor, stepped in and told the guy to keep his hands off of me. Then all hell broke loose, it was like something out of a fight movie, it was so frightening. I had never seen anything like it in my life. Doug was fighting off like 6 guys. But he was of course stronger then them all but one of the idiots punched him in the face and busted open his lip. There was blood all over, I cried I was so upset and scared. It was ridiculous and for such a stupid reason, I cannot believe people behave this way, like ainmals! FYI this is not in my nature to be in club brawls, I've never been around anything like that. It was totally unprovoked and thank God Doug was there to rescue me. A man should NEVER put his hands on a woman in that manner.

Another thing I keep getting are emails from you guys, calls from family, flowers from friends congratulating me on my engagement. They said they read some story the other day saying that when Doug and I went to dinner with my parents the other night that he proposed and I declined. This never happend, I dont know where they come up with these stories sometimes. All we did was have a lovely dinner at my mom's favorite restaurant. We had all been together on My BFF Show set all day shooting scenes for this upcoming season. It was histerical and a lot of fun. But I will tell you this, Doug is an amazing guy and I feel very lucky that we found each other. We've been friends the past year now and have became very close. He's my best friend, we are so much alike, we love to travel and we have the most incredible time together no matter where we are. I've never been happier. He truly treats me like his princess and that's how every girl should always be treated, Never forget that ladies. My parents love him too, so I'm really happy about that. I love his parents as well, they are such a lovely family. His mother is stunning, so beautiful, sweet, funny and smart. We all had such an amazing time in Maui together, so I'm glad Doug's getting to know my family as well.I flew into New York this morning, I'm about to go to the Eye Wear Convention. I'm launching my new sunglass line. I'm so excited! I love wearing sunglasses and now I have my very own line! Loves it! So, I have to run, but hope everyones doing wonderfully and love you all.

Love always,
Paris xoxo

Did you know that traffic citations are only given to Drunk Drivers and Drug Addicts? by sTeeTo

This blog is dedicated to Mary, whose last name I have subconsciously blocked from my brain. I'm fairly certain she would gladly go by Mary of Nazareth. Who is Mary you ask? No no not the virgin who birthed Jesus without ever having sex. I'll save this ridiculous story for a different day. 

 Mary is a psychotic woman who I had the privilege of speaking to on the phone for nearly fifteen minutes. Mary received a Photo Radar ticket for speeding. Allegedly 45 in a 30. Her opening question, which took an eternity to spit out was "The ONLY people who receive Traffic Citations are Drunk Drivers and Drug Addicts, so I'm wondering why I received this, because I am neither of these." 

Keep in mind that this question sounds completely rational to her. She was extremely articulate with her words. I could tell that she had a difficult time organizing her thoughts, which is fine, I am the same way. I also choose my words carefully. But why in the hell after filtering out what you were originally thinking would you come up with this ludicrous question? My only reaction to this insane thought was to laugh. I so wish I could control this part of me, but I honestly cannot. Of course this outburst infuriated Mary. She interrupted my little surge of laughs with "this is NOT funny". Oh shit, this is when I realized just how crazy this woman was. Now I must go into ultra sarcastic tone. Ah something else I cannot control. So I respond with an "OoooKAY". Just great, can I make this any worse? The answer? No matter what you say, Staci it's GOING to get worse. So fuck it, here are my inappropriate outbursts Mary. Loud and clear for you. 

Mary begins to tell me how she is a teacher (is there anything fucking more terrifying than that?!). She then explains how she presents photographs to her students of children killed in drunk driving accidents. She is using her Mary of Nazareth tone at this point. If we had any actual proof of Mary of Nazareth's existence, I'm sure she would have this tone,  I'm sure of it. Anyhow, I believe I was supposed to be impressed here and say "WOW, you are an amazing individual and I hope that if I ever have children that you will be their mentor because apparently you have your shit together, Mary". But you know what? I didn't say that. All I could do was put my phone on mute and say loudly "this woman is fucking nuts!!" while covering my face in utter disgust. Everyone knows that the only way to educate people is to instill fear into them, am I right? It definitely earns you a good ol' dose of respect. It worked wonders for the Bush Administration, didn't it Mary? 

Now Mary is asking about the process for her ticket. Can you believe we haven't even discussed this yet?! So I give her my spiel in the most monotone voice I can muster up. She has gained so much respect from me that I have gone into my apathetic traffic court clerk robot voice. She then asks me how she can get a hold of the officer in charge of her citation. First, I tell her that it is nearly impossible to reach an officer, in fact we are told to tell Drunk Drivers and Drug Addicts that they are not to contact the officer. She once again interrupts me with "OH I KNOW how to get in touch with an officer". So I respond with "Great, so you don't need my assistance here since you obviously know how to contact the officer". Once again I cannot control my sarcastic tone. I'm not sure if Mary even picks up on this though. She probably took this as a compliment. 

Sadly, this is where Mary and I part our ways. We say our farewells, I put my phone on "not ready" for a few seconds to take a deep cleansing breath and rid myself of insanity from this psycho bitch. On to the next Drunk Driver or will it be a Drug Addict this time? Fucking Traffic Citations. 

Gym Etiquette 101. By Brooke (Guest BitchBlogger).

After reading Jeeto’s latest bitchfest entry I was inspired to contribute my own story in hopes to get at least one of my issues off my chest. As an avid runner and occasional “bodypumper” I have been an active and loyal member of a local gym since moving to Boise two years ago. Any of you who are active gym goers can understand that there is a whole set of rules and etiquette that come with working-out; the majority of which is unspoken but understood by most. Unfortunately not everyone is blessed with common sense, which brings me to my story. This particular Wednesday, I arrived at the gym just before 6pm which was my first mistake as this is the busiest time of the day. As I circled the premises looking for an open treadmill, I silently cursed all of the “New Year’s Resolution” patrons who have inflexed the gym since January and usually linger around until March – that’s a whole separate bitchfest entry. Anyway, after a couple of circles and no treadmill to be found, I finally settled on an elliptical in the “exclusive” women’s workout section of the gym. While I hate the elliptical, I figured I would squeeze in a bit of extra cardio until a treadmill became available. Sure enough, five minutes later one opened up. I promptly grabbed my belongings and started towards the vacant machine. Just as I was stepping on, I heard this extremely rude “Excuse Me!” I looked over to see that the culprit was an extremely thin older woman with big bushy curls, standing on the elliptical next to my treadmill. “Oh,” I stammered shocked and surprised, “were you getting on this treadmill?” She looked at me accusingly and rudely snarled “uh yeah!” Again, shocked by her tone and malicious looks I slinked away like a scorned dog and let the bitch have the treadmill. I then retreated back to my elliptical, fighting tears the whole way. I know, a bit dramatic but I was in shock that a stranger would speak to me that way and upset that I let her get away with it! I spent the next 20 minutes fuming and shooting glares in her direction whenever possible…though I don’t think she noticed. While I have been known to be slightly obsessive with my workouts I vowed then and there to never let myself get to the point that the obviously anorexic woman had gotten to. To the old skinny woman with the big curly hair – get over yourself and realize that you are so thin that you should give your poor body a break. Also, since you go to a PUBLIC gym, note that you do not have any prior claim on any workout equipment. I know it may be difficult for you but try to show a little bit of common courtesy to those around you.

Someone at Starbucks is Annoying. By Jeeto.

Ok, so my debit card is a little messed up. My dog, Charles, took it out of my pocket one day and chewed on it a little and the resulting teeth marks occasionally make it difficult to swipe during sales transactions. The key word here being, “occasionally.” And in the unlikely event that the swipe doesn’t read, the cashier will key in the number manually and I will be on my way—a happy, satisfied customer. This is the same sort of “method” I was accustomed to, having worked in customer service for the last 11 years of my life. If the swipe didn’t take (because of card or machine), I kindly entered in the number. No big deal. No fuss. I get my money and the customer moves on.

Does it work that way at the Starbucks in downtown Boise? Let's see...

The last two times that I’ve decided to waste my hard earned money on non-local coffee I’ve been rather annoyed at a particular attractive blonde woman, in her 40s, who’s made it her mission to lecture me about “getting a new debit card” when the first swipe doesn’t take. The first time I was caught off guard and stood there, rather perplexed, when she turned proctor on me and decided to school me in the process of getting a new debit card from my bank.

She told me:

1.) That it’s easy to get a new debit card from my bank. I would just need to request one at my main branch.

2.) That since I’m just requesting a replacement card, that I wouldn’t even have to change my pin number!!!

3.) All about other customers who have screwed up cards (way more so than mine) that she tells to get new cards, too.

I really wanted to tell her that:

1.) I’m not an idiot and I know how to request a new debit card from my bank.

2.) I don’t give a shit that she has to swipe more than once because:
a.) My debit card works just fine with the exception of like 2 places.
b.) She’s the only person who has a problem swiping it at that EXACT same Starbucks.
c.) That I’ve dealt with unfortunate cards for years and never once thought to tell people to get a new debit card—that just comes with the territory of accepting cards.

3.) Sometimes, maybe unbeknownst to her, that requesting a debit card can result in years of torture and dismay when the bank can’t seem to get it right. (When I was with WaMu (now Chase!) I received TWO debit cards that would decline me at every transaction and would only work as an ATM card, even though the bank could never find a problem with them. I eventually stopped using my debit card for like an entire year and then finally when I decided that I wanted to try again, they sent me a card for the wrong account… Needless to say, I’m not banking with them any longer.)

4.) It’s not her business to tell me what I need to do. It’s her business to smile, work through any problems, and serve me a hot/cold beverage.

I didn’t say anything. I just smiled and walked away, confused and bewildered… Like, “Did that really happen?” And I thought that maybe I was just being insensitive to her rights as a public servant and that my debit card delay might have somehow made her day a few seconds off… But the more that I thought about it and the more that I recounted my years in customer service and my years of training OTHERS in customer service, that this is probably a discussion I wouldn’t recommend for my employees to engage in. I guess I have the mind set of, if you’re taking someone’s money, you should do so with a smile and be happy to swipe several times, punch numbers in if you have to, call those authorization lines, swim to the bottom of the ocean… Whatever. But don’t lecture them or make them feel like idiots because YOUR machine has trouble reading THEIR card. Because YOUR machine is not EVERY machine and THEIR card may work at MILLIONS of other locations.

Today, when I went in today with a co-worker I had this same Starbucks associate. And guess what happened again? Yes. But this time I just simply said, “Well it works everywhere else.” And she didn’t seem to care about that… Because she still lectured me like I was five and went into detail about how people come in and give her cards that are split in half… bla bla bla bla… And seriously… Her bitching about my card that took her 3 or 4 swipes took longer than the swiping itself, so obviously she's not concerned about hurrying up.

Needless to say, I will continue to support Java—which I like better anyway. It’s locally owned and my card works there like a charm. The employees remember my name and what I like to drink and they’re always friendly, talkative, and tend to make me feel good. So in some ways, I should thank stupid Starbucks babe for making me see that I shouldn’t bother from straying my usual, local taste. “Thanks!”

Is that a Vagina You're Zapping in the Microwave? By sTeeTo

Oh, it's not? That's odd, because it smells EXACTLY like a vagina. 

Okay, so I know I am not alone here, but this is an obvious one people. This is simple etiquette in the work place. It's not even etiquette, it's more of a logical thought process. Let me lay it out for you. If something that you consume has the reputation of smelling like genitalia, DO NOT heat it up at WORK in the microwave. Period.

Do you remember the first time you made that brilliant decision to be selfish and force everyone to smell a steaming hot vagina during the lunch hour? Yes? Okay, so do you remember everyone around you commenting about how fucking disgusting it smelled? Not ONE person complimented on how succulent the aroma was that permeated from your lunch that day, not ONE. Okay, so with that in mind, why in the fuck would you do this again? Why? 

Please, do us all a favor and eat your fish at home. 

If I had the means to replicate the odor of a sweaty ball sac in liquid form, I would do so in a heart beat. Then, do you know what I would do? I would pour it in my Vegetable Soup and heat that shit up on "Supafly TNT Muthafuckin' HIGH" for twenty-five minutes,  JUST to spite you. Luckily (for all of us),  I do not have the resources to achieve this repulsive endeavor. I do know that even if I was capable of such things that the logical thought process that I mentioned earlier would kick in and I would be reminded that YOU are not the ONLY one in the work place. I would never put the rest of my co-workers through something so horrifying. This may come as a shock, but it's not all about you. 

Would you like a side of old hag with that? By Jeeto.

Bad customer service irritates me a lot. Like tonight when Beeto, Smooley and I went to WinCo to get a pizza (it was nearby). We basically walked up to the counter and the Andre the Giant (only shorter and less charming) hulk of a employee stepped up to the counter and asked what we wanted. I had never ordered pizza there before, so I didn't know what I wanted or what types of deals they may have. So I skimmed the menu and asked nicely about one of the specials to which the Hills Have Eyes extra rudely replied, "Why don't you read it first and then you'll know." 

At first I was confused... Did she REALLY just say that?! And for a second I tried to actually read the sign like she asked, but there were like 100 words on it and then I just took a step back and looked into her evil beady eyes and  said, "nevermind." So we all left.

I called WinCo and spoke to a manager later about the horrendous service I received. But seriously though... She needs to be fired. I've always worked in customer service in some form or another and I rock at it. Which is why I don't put up with receiving shitty customer service. 

But, I should look on the bright side. We went to Papa Murphy's and received not only great customer service, but excellent pizza... Which is probably what we wouldn't have got at WinCo.

sTeeTo Forgets... By Jeeto

I guess Stedds forgot to mention to our trusty readers that the Plumber has left her building for 3 months. She's taken some vacation disability leave, during which time she will be visiting the beach and eating ice cream seeing her physical therapist 3 times a week. She wants to remind everyone, however, NOT to forget about her when it comes to Christmas gifts or get-togethers that involve the consumption of food.

You're welcome Steets.

J

Thanks to The Plumber!!

I am just getting ready for work and am already frustrated before I am even there! Do you want to know why? Because now that The Plumber is only allowed to work two hours at a time doing data entry, everyone else gets fucked. How so? Well everyone used to get a break from the public by either scanning or doing mail every few weeks. Now we are just going back and forth from the counter to the phones. It is absolutely ridiculous. This will only cause more frustration with my co-workers and most likely even more people will be calling in sick, because I'm sorry, but one can only handle so much of dealing with fucking morons on a daily basis. I am just pissed at the moment, I know that not everyone is a moron that has a traffic ticket, but this is what happens when you don't get a break from the public. It affects EVERYONE. What's even more amazing is when she is going back and forth to her chosen little jobs she takes at least 20 minutes and by the time she is there she hardly does a fucking thing. Okay I'm done for now. This is basically a free write so I'm just letting it all out for now. I better get ready for the day. This will be my motivation to get the fuck out. Graphic Design here I come!! 

The Ergonomic Adventures of The Plumber, Part 1...by sTeeTo

I honestly thought that this Plumber ordeal couldn't get much worse. Boy, was I mistaken. Not only has it gotten worse,  it has morphed into something rather humiliating. Humiliating to the Plumber? Oh no, of course not. Remember, she still considers herself a Diva, or better yet, The Diva. The Non-Plumbers of this world would see this as a "I want to dig a hole in the ground six feet deep using nothing but my bare hands and bury myself right now" kind of deal. Why has it come to this point, you ask?  Well, if you will take my hand, I will introduce you to the Ergonomic Adventures of The Plumber. Oh and before we start, be sure you have a lumbar support for your lower back, don't forget to keep your legs bent at a ninety-degree angle, and please be sure both of your feet are flat on the floor. Okay, now we're ready for the Ergonomic Adventures of The Plumber. 

First of all, as we all know, working in any type of office environment requires one to use a rubber stamp. You may think that this action doesn't require, well, any action. Oh, but you are misinformed my fellow office clerk. Let me mention a few of the muscles involved and see if you can guess where these are located. The Longus Capitis, Infarhyoids, Suprahyoids, Splenius Capitis and the Semispinalis Capitis. Now you might think these muscles would be found in the wrist or perhaps even the arm. That would be the logical guess, seeing that we don't use our feet to stamp with or we don't put the fucking thing in our mouths and bang our heads atop our desks, unless you're into that type of thing. Okay, I'm getting side tracked. I think my lumbar support needs readjusting. Okay, that's better. I'm back on track. Do you know where the Plumber had her "on the job" injury? In her neck. So you guessed it! She has managed to get the Ergonomics Team involved and supply her with a gigantic time stamp machine that was built in 1962 because of her fucking NECK! So now, for anyone who is lucky enough to sit at her knick-knack infested desk they now have even LESS desk space due to this monstrosity. More kudos to The Plumber! Way to go! You get five stars for making an even bigger ass of yourself. So, do me a favor. The next time you use your rubber stamp think about how much you're NOT using your neck to do this or even better try to use your neck while you stamp. I'm guessing you'll have to get the creative juices flowing on this one. Why? Because we don't use our fucking necks to stamp documents!! 

"Can I have your credit card number?" by sTeeTs

For some odd reason I had this happen twice today while answering the phones. Why is it that some people like to recite their credit card number in groups of three? As you can see, the illustration to your right clearly shows the numbers to be grouped in fours. This may seem menial, but it completely fucks me up. It's as if the numbers no longer make sense to me whatsoever. It's comparable to giving someone your phone number, but pausing after the fourth number. You just DON'T do it. 

Having Diarrhea and Allergies at the Same Time by Jeeto

Every time you sneeze, you’re worried about pooping your pants. It sucks. Enough said.

"Do You Have a Rewards Card With Us?" by Jeeto.

I don't know what it is about it, but I am SICK to death of all the fucking rewards cards that every store on the face of the earth seems to have now. I'm thanking Albertsons for this.

Thank you Albertsons. 

It's like, I wouldn't mind if businesses had some kind of POS* display or employees even wore degrading buttons that said, "Ask me about our Super Cool Rewards Card!" because then it would be MY CHOICE at my CONVENIENCE  to sign up for one IF and WHEN I wanted to. But what irritates the fucking hell out of me is when I want to hurry up and make my purchase, but before the checker can even ring in my items they have to ask, "And do you have a Rewards Card with us?" Then I have to say no. Then they have to ask me if I want one. Then I have to say no AGAIN. Then they like to explain how it takes "just a second" and that I'll save "up to 10%" if I sign up for one and then I say, "NO THANK YOU." for a third time and then WHAM-- I'm a fucking Barnes and Noble outcast and the checker looks at me like, "Oh... I guess he doesn't read that much..." Not to mention that when I bought a Starbucks coffee at Barnes and Noble I was asked there too. That's twice in one store. That's probably like 20 waisted seconds of my life. Okay, well now I sound like an asshole... But I don't care. It's annoying for me, it's annoying for the poor individual waiting in line behind me. I was asked the same thing at Fred Meyer tonight too. 

So that's 3 times, two stores. One night.

I will applaud Albertsons however, for making their "Rewards Card" simple enough that you don't even have to remember to bring it with you, because all you need is a phone number. And that takes two seconds, no swipe, no stupid ass little fucking key chain that gets all dirty and ripped up and looks like shit in three weeks.

Peace for now.

Jeets

*Jeeto made me feel like a fucking moron for not knowing that POS stands for Point of Sale, so just in case someone reading this hasn't worked retail for awhile this will explain it, my fellow idiot. -sTeeTo

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.