Okay. By now, we all know I am a big mouth girl, with an even bigger personality and a colossus opinion about most everything. So, it seems that lately, I’ve had plenty of time to sit back, watch and listen. And some of the things I have heard recently make me want to say, “Um. What?!?!?! Get a grip, you ditz!” This is merely one of them.

***You don’t like me because I’m fat, huh?***

During a discussion about male/female carrying ons, a male friend of mine, Spike*, told me that some girl had said this one to him because he wasn’t paying her the attention she felt like she deserved or wanted.

Oh, please, honey!

Will somebody please explain to me how women figure that if a man is not paying attention to them, or not “liking” them, or not fawning over them, then it’s surely because of that big ass attached to their backside???

First off, I wonder if she ever stopped to think, if a brother isn’t giving her skins, that maybe it’s not her fat butt… maybe it’s the beautiful personality that she displays constantly… You know, the personality that rivals Peyton Manning’s dripping wet sweat sock midway through the 4th quarter of the Superbowl?

B- What man is going to want you when you are oozing ickee-ness all over the bar, grocery store, or library by hitting on and trying to make out with anything and everything with a penis? Seriously, if I was a dude, and I saw a girl (any girl) hitting on one guy, getting the boot, then hitting on the next guy, getting the boot, then hitting on the next guy, getting the boot… I’m not so sure I’d be into her either. That’s just icky.

Thirdly and lastly (as if I don’t wrap it up here, I may keep going on and on)- Diva isn’t exactly a petite, Barbie doll sized girl of perfection.  Now Diva knows that, although men do dig up on the arm candy, they also love women who will laugh with them, talk to them and have a great time doing whatever it is they are doing. Diva does not, nor has she ever, suffered from lack of attention from the opposite sex. Because regardless of the size of her blue jeans, Diva has no lack of esteem.

Why?

It’s a little thing called self-confidence, sister. You might try looking that one up and studying on it for a minute.

Yup, yup. You don’t dig me because I’m fat…..That’s one of the lamest things I think I’ve ever heard.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent AND the guilty.

I am an office manager for an small biomedical company in Oak Ridge, Tennessee.  We are not a million dollar baby.  We are not listed as one of the top companies in the Fortune 500.  We are of no consequence to anyone, really.   That is, anyone but those damn telemarketers, who seem to call more than our customers do.  Until the past two days, the last statement was strictly a sarcastic theory.

I have made it my goal in life to give every telemarketer that calls our office so much shit, that they will beg the powers that be to take our multiple phone numbers off of the automated speedy dialer set up they utilize.

I have found out that the low level asshat that initiates this variety of phone call is generally a mega wuss.  Scary Diva puts fear in them and they automatically put me through to a supervisor.  Which is fine by me, that’s who I’d prefer to bitch at anyway.

The typical call is as follows:

Asshat:  Hello, ma’am.  I am calling today on behalf of BellSouth.

Me: You’re calling on behalf of BellSouth?  Are you BellSouth or some poor schmuck hired by BellSouth to take this ass whipping?

Asshat:  We are contracted by BellSouth to contact existing customers with this exciting..

Me:  Let me guess, an exciting new plan?

Asshat:  Yes, ma’am.   We are…

Me:   Stop right there.  What is the name of your company?

Asshat:  (will name off whatever company of the day is)

Me:  And what is your name, please?

Asshat:  I can not disclose my name.

Me:  You can’t disclose your name?  Where is your supervisor?

Asshat:  I don’t understand, ma’am.

Me:  Your supervisor,  your boss.  Please put them on the phone.

Asshat:  One moment.

Asshat supervisor: I understand there is a problem here?

Me:  You could call it that.   When I get more calls a day from people like you bogging down my phone lines than I do from my customers, that is a major problem for me.

Assshat supervisor:  Let me explain why…

Me:  No!  Let me explain to you.  What is YOUR name.  I have your company name.

Asshat supervisor:  (rambles off a name)

Me:  Okay.  Now, I would like this to be recorded.  Am I being recorded for quality and training purposes, pal?

Asshat supervisor:  Yes, ma’am.

Me:  Then understand this.  I am keeping your name, the name of your company, the time and date that I spoke with you.  I would like you to remove our phone numbers from your database.  I would like to cease communication from your company.  Do you understand?

Asshat supervisor:  Yes.  We will remove you immediately.

Me:  Great.  Because we report companies that do not remove us from their call lists/databases after we request it.  I now have everything I need to report your company to the FCC for furthering communications after being asked to stop.

So, the story goes.  Of course, the FCC doesn’t do shit for a body.  You call, register a complaint, and nothing happens. But, it sure is alot of fun to harass the shit out of someone who’s job it is to harass the shit out of me.

The top of my “I HATE THESE GUYS” list is Bell South, followed ever so closely by Birch Telecom.

I also despise all of these shipping companies who try to out screw each other for the tidbit of business they might be able to get.  Of which, my response is always,  “If I’m gonna get screwed by a freight company, I’m sticking with UPS because our driver is freakin hot.  But thank you for calling and trying to win my business!  If you’d like to send some hot drivers over here for inspection, I might consider giving you my business, but I warn you.  Our UPS guy will be hard to beat.”

Have a great dessert day, pal.

     Ya know, I have a lotta friends.  If we’re gonna co-ordinate a ride-a-long, I expect a lotta things.  Some people are gonna be there.  Last night, I co-ordinated a ride home, which, of course, didn’t happen.

     Can you say “FLAKES,” boys and girls?  (Yes, MULTIPLE.)

     I knew you could.

     Most of my friends are pretty responsible.  But I have others who are, for lack of a better word, flakes.  Sure, they can write a blog about how apologetic they are about whatever they’ve done most recently, but damned if they’ll ever just come out and tell me…. It counts just a little more.
     I hate it, when I’m out with friends, and I have to put up with the constantly vibrating text alerts asking for advice about ridiculous things.  “What should I do?  What should I say?  Where should I go?”

     Now, notice it’s only 11PM.

     *shrug*

     I would so love to be an irresponsible prick now and again, and not have to take any responsibility for my own actions.  Instead, I usually end up doing all the hand-holding.
     Now, the addendum to that is … I made the decision to trust the flakes,  anyway.  And, I sincerely hope the idiots got home okay.  *shakes head*

     Me, I made sure I did and got another ride.

     Apparently, this nutjob, California Tae Kwon Do-mom would like the Cops to enforce “Your Way, Right Away” at Burger King…

     “Ma’am, we’re not going to go down there and enforce your Western Bacon Cheeseburger … that’s not a criminal issue.”
     Fortunately, her calling 911 and tying up resources is a criminal issue.  Unfortunately, they apparently didn’t bother to arrest her.  That might have taught her kids not to be such spoiled little brats.

     What do you bet she was driving a mini-van?

     In a weird way, it reminded me of an EMS training call from Houston several years ago.  (Language Alert! — but it’s soooooo worth it)

     The original was sped up before considerably before being broadcast on the Art Bell Show (remember him?), so the voices ended up sounding as far from their original southern drawl as possible…
     Several operators who received the training call were unsure whether or not the event was real, which makes it even better.  This is what a good EMS instructor should do — it weeds out those operators who can’t handle the stress. 

     “I need a bambi-lance!” 

     Preferably long enough to kill a deer…

Tip: Fracas

     It was smart-ass-ness that made me do it.

     New Blogroll section at right… 😉