Filed under: General Peevery | Tags: annoying, chelsea handler, drive me up the wall, facebook stalker, fuck censorship, grating, jodie foster, lindsay lohan, midget, nervous breakdown, office christmas party, office creeper, peeve, pet peeves, sarcastic, stalking, vent, you're doing it wrong
Oh my God. I’m so, like, Jodie Foster. No, I didn’t land an acting gig. No, it’s nothing to do with a pinball machine, an airtight room or a kid vanishing on a plane. I have a stalker. Legit, full-on, creeptastic stalker. Chelsea Handler can have her midget. I’m so much cooler than that.
I want to share the details but, I’m kind of afraid. See, I never even thought to write this blog anonymously. I also never thought people would actually read it. Now that I post it to my Facebook, more and more I’ve been running into people that will mention something that I have said here on Perpetually Peeved. Which, is kind of cool and also kind of creepy – depending on who is mentioning it. Most people outside of the blogosphere don’t leave comments. So there are all these anonymous readers I tend to forget about when I’m writing. Lately, I’ve been getting more cautious about what I write. I do a mental check – is that person my friend on Facebook? Does that person read my blog? Did I say something about so-and-so that could stir up trouble?
This is all too complicated for me. I mean, I’ve given the warning. I’m not PC. I’m probably talking about you. It’s nothing I wouldn’t tell you to your face. I don’t want to censor myself. It just makes me pissy.
So, at the risk of falling victim to a true stalker, I’m going tell you this story.
This, my friends, is why I’m not nice to people. Nice gets you nowhere except stuck doing shit you don’t want to do -or- stalked to death like Selena.
Let’s go back about 6 years or so. I have just moved into town, got a gig in an office, am finishing up school and just started dating my now-husband. The office has a big, fancy “holiday” party (this was back when they blew through money like Lindsay Lohan blows through, well, blow). Mr.-Soon-To-Be-Peeved and I are drinking, dancing, having a wonderful time. They just finished the raffle (which… hmm… someone in HR always wins) and the electric slide is starting up. Yep, almost time to go.
Mr. Soon-to-be Peeved: Who is that creepy lady that keeps following us and staring at you?
Peeved: Who? Oh, her? She’s Office Creeper. I work with her.
Mr. Soon-to-be Peeved: Seriously? They employ her?
Peeved: Stop it. Be nice.
Mr. Soon-to-be Peeved: She keeps looking at you. She’s creeping me the hell out.
Peeved: Oh, she’s harmless. Stop it.
She must have sensed we were talking about her, because she made a beeline towards us right at that moment.
Peeved: Oh, hi Office Creeper, have you met Mr. Soon-to-be Peeved?
Office Creeper: Oh, why no, I haven’t. Because, you saw me earlier and you didn’t say hi.
Peeved: What? I’m sorry. I must not have seen you.
Office Creeper: You looked right at me.
Peeved: Oh, sorry, I really must not have seen you. Well, we were just about to leave…
Over Mr. Soon-to-be Peeved’s protests, I returned to work after the party. I decided to brush off the creepy incident and continue to be nice. I learned early on that you just don’t mess with crazy. For the next three years, I worked in close proximity to the Office Creeper. It was well known that her closet contained (hopefully) five of the same shirts and five of the same pants, because she wore the same outfit to work every day of those three years. One day, she came into work and was wearing a different shirt. So, trying to be nice I say, “Gee, Office Creeper, that’s a nice shirt, is it new?” Why? Why? Why did I have to be nice? From then on, any time she would see me she would walk up to my desk, do a Price is Right girl move with her arms down her body and say, “Oh, Peeved, do you notice anything different about me today?” Shit. Shit. Shit. Is it the shoes? Is it the hair? Jewelry? What? I was afraid to get the wrong answer.
Of course, all my co-workers thought this was hilarious. “How’s your girlfriend, Peeved?” So freaking funny, really. Well, much like Lindsay Lohan’s career, the ecomony went down the crapper and so did the office holiday parties along with a bunch of employee’s jobs. Office Creeper was one of the people let go. If offices had polls like high schools do, O.C. would have been voted Most Likely to Come Back and Shoot Everyone Who Was Ever Mean to Her. Who’s laughing now, bitches?
Fast forward to today. It’s been almost two years since the layoff, I’m at a new job for about four months and haven’t given O.C. a thought since I accidently stumbled upon her Facebook page and almost peed myself laughing. (Under interests, it says, “cats.” Just cats. Why this struck me as urine-inducing funny, I’ll never know.) Today, there was an event at my workplace. I headed down to the event and who do I run into, but none other than Office Creeper.
Peeved: Oh, hi, Office Creeper. What are you doing here?
Office Creeper: Oh, well, Peeved, I’m going to be associated with Company on a project for the next three years or so.
Peeved: Oh, really? Well, did you know I work here now?
Office Creeper: Oh, yes, actually I think I knew that.
Try not to be jealous. I know, it’s hard. I almost feel famous. What do you mean I don’t have a bodyguard and a limo picking me up from work today? I have 5 readers – doesn’t that qualify me as a celebrity?
P.S. Office Stalker, if you read my blog, I’m just trying to be funny. I really do think you are a genuinely nice person.
P.P.S. If I don’t post by 5:00pm tomorrow, call the cops.
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