Perpetually Peeved

Midget, smidget – I have an office creeper

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…

Can you say, "Stranger Danger?" photo from Red Cross

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.

21 Comments so far
Leave a comment

You have to post a picture of office creeper! I have a “virtual” creeper since I work from home and she is really just a dumbass who stalks me to ask me stupid questions!

Comment by thelifeofjamie

So funny and so disturbing. I like the disclaimer at the end.

Comment by Conflicted Mean Girl

Selena wasn’t stalked to death, she was killed by her greedy manager, Yolanda Saldivar. Duh, brush up on your latina pop knowledge. Just Kidding, but seriously dude watch your six, stalkers are shady business.

Comment by Katie

I don’t think it was a pool table. I think it was a pinball machine. 🙂

Kudos to your graphic designer. One of the best images ever! 🙂

Love the cat photo! Hilarious! 🙂

I promise you one thing. It’s possible to wear the same thing ever day and own only one set. I’m living proof.

Mr. Soon-to-be-Peeved. Does that mean now that you’re married he’s just Plain-Old-Peeved? :p

Comment by shoutabyss

For the love of Pete people, if I need editors for my book, I know who to call. Sheez! Now I have to go edit. Thankyouverymuch.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Okay, I’m not editing. Interwebz says it was a pool table and Selena’s manager was really the head of her “fan-club” (read: stalker central) that was fired for embezelling and killed Selena because she got called out. So, it ties in nicely with the workplace violence part, see?

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

My sister has a saying: “Crazy always wins.”
If you don’t already, I’d start carrying mace.

Comment by Amy

I love Pete, too!

And if the Jodie Foster / pool table mention is a reference to the movie The Accused it was most decidedly a pinball machine. If you are thinking of some other reference I apologize.

Here’s the IMDb to prove it:
The Accused: Synopsis

The ONLY reason I know this is they call me the “Pinball Wizard.”

Comment by shoutabyss

One last remark, since I’m jacking your post. (I apologize.) The Accused was based on a REAL event involving a pool table. For the movie the pool table was changed to a pinball machine.

Comment by shoutabyss

God, you’re a pain in the ass! Fine, I’ll change it. 😉 I was afraid to google too far into it at work.

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Drats. You just uncovered my secret identity. They call me PITA.

And who said I wanted it changed? I was just being a smart ass. That’s my job.

I really did love your post. One of your best! (This is the part where I kiss ass to get out of trouble.)

Comment by shoutabyss

Holy Mother of Pearl. I think I need to go snuggle a blankie.

Comment by temmahkrik

Ever heard of that stalker named Jack? He climbed up a stalk then stalked a giant, broke into the giant’s house and stole his gold. He then RETURNS to the scene, steals the gold egg laying hen AND the giant’s harp and even KILLS the poor giant! And the State Attorney’s Office never indicted Jack. The Disney people make him a hero in a movie and he got royalties for that too! No wonder no one has any sense of morality these days and stalking sure pays off, huh? PS Don’t grow beans in your back yard.

Comment by Carl D'Agostino

LOL! FTW! Jack must have been the original stalker!

Comment by shoutabyss

You have six now, my friend Carl suggested I check you out. You have skills. Ill read more later.


Comment by Luke The Drifter

Welcome Jimmie. Hate to disappoint, but the best thing about my blog is Carl’s comments. Come to think of it, that’s probably why he sent you here. 😉

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

I know that you have written with humour; but there is just something about this that don’t rest easy with me. FFS take care and carry CS/mace/AK47 as you choose.

Comment by gallowaygrave

Thank you GG! I think I will. 🙂

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

Talk about a small world… my goodness. Guess there’s a reason they say not to ‘burn bridges’, because you may eventually have to cross them again. 😉 Although I love them, her only interest being cats is a bit disturbing.

Comment by Bonnie

Yeah. It’s about to get very small. When I went to go get coffee this morning, she was mysteriously on my floor… now, where did I put that mace?

Comment by perpetuallypeeved

I think having a stalker means you have hit the big time! Congrats! (I think….) or is it Condolensces! 🙂

Comment by redriverpak

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