bullies

All posts tagged bullies

playing the game

Published August 12, 2013 by snowhillofdoom
dear pain in my ass defender at my over-30 soccer game which i joined in order to have fun,
i have always been a fan of the game. i was put on a team as a wee lass, and it has continued to be a big part of my life to this day. there is always more to learn, on the field as a player and off the field as a spectator. i have a sincere appreciation and respect for the game and its players and fans. it is, after all, the greatest sport ever invented, in the entire universe. everbuddy knows dat.
support for this wonderful game depends on many people–those of us who truly love the sport, and, unfortunately, those of you who truly love to act like complete jackholes.
i tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, and i tried to teach you the rules of the game, but every time the ref made a call, or didn’t make a call, you questioned his authority. he explained a few of the calls to you and your team, but he’s a ref, not a schoolteacher, so there just wasn’t time to explain everything.
because i was marking you, i tried explaining the calls (or non-calls) to you (and your teammates) because i sincerely thought you were just trying to learn the game. if someone is trying to learn the greatest sport ever invented, you bet i’m going to try to teach them whatever i can. it raises the level of competitive play. it creates understanding of the game. the more you understand, the better you play, the better i play. i’d rather play against someone who is knowledgable and can challenge me, otherwise, what’s the point?
soon i realized that you were playing the game as if you didn’t know your ass from your head, and you were damned proud of it–rules?? shmools! there are plenty of em but who the f*ck needs em!
this completely insane and purposely blatant ignorance of any and all rules was appalling. you’re that kid on the playground that gets tagged and cackles, “nope, i ain’t ‘it’, ha ha HA! i’m just gonna keep on running and do whatever the f*ck i want because i’m a huge annoying IDIOT wheeeeeeee look at me shake my ass, i’m totally farting right now, it smells soooo good, ha ha HA!”
throughout and after the game, YOUR teammates were coming up to ME and “apologizing” for YOU and your shmattitude. you didn’t even shake my hand much less apologize. but if you HAD apologized for your shmattitude, i would’ve put my hands in the air and said, “whoa, you don’t need to apologize for your ‘tude, what you NEED to apologize for is your lack of SKILLZ wha-WHAT!”
let’s review: when you stick random parts of your body out and the ball luckily bounces off of you, it’s not considered a “pass” or a “trap”. you couldn’t learn to trap even if you were IN one. when the ball bounces off of you, and you look at me and smile as if you have something to be proud of, and that your proudness of yourself requires no words because i should know what you’re smiling about, it just makes you look like you’re wearing an even bigger ass-hat than you already were–you silly gangly sloth-person, i beat you at every foot race. when i run i leave my floppy clown shoes at home. all i could hear as i whizzed past your crooked horse teeth were comments from your teammates–“wow, look at that girl run, she’s fast”. and, after you caught up to me, and caught your breath, you still had the gall to talk smack about MY ass?? un-fucking-buh-lievable. take a look at the stat sheets you freak. i think you “won” a total of 3 (maybe 4) balls the entire time i was marking you, and that was because of shortcomings on MY part, not because you excelled at YOUR defensive game. the rest of the time i was taking you to school. and i’m not even that good. (newsflash, your report card came, it says you got an F in defense.)
anyways, where was i.
there were a couple of plays that happened. firstly, you blocked my teammate with your body and didn’t even go for the ball. my teammate called “obstruction” on you and you were like, “obstruction my ass, what the hell is obstruction, that wasn’t obstruction, why are you yelling obstruction!?”. and i said “because obstruction means you used your body to block her without going for the ball, it’s against the rules” and you said “chuh, what-eh-vur!” and ran off.
secondly, the next play it was you against me. i tried to get past you but i tripped over your floppy hoof and the ball ricocheted off you and you immediately got in my face and said, “what, are you gonna call obstruction on me again, go ahead, call it, call obstruction” and i said, “no, because that wasn’t obstruction, you didn’t use your body to block me” and you said “chuh! what-eh-vur!” and galloped away.
then there was a throw-in for my team. you yelled at the ref, “hey, they have a ton of players offsides ref, call offsides, holey crap, what, are you blind?!” etc and so forth. when the ball went out of bounds you asked the ref why he wasn’t calling offsides, “there were a ton of them, can’t you see them, they’re ALWAYS offsides”. and i said, “there’s no offsides on throw-ins”. again, you used your extra large vocabulary to snap “chuh! what-eh-vur!” and gallop off.
sometime after that, i beat you to the ball and sprinted toward goal and the keeper had no choice but to take me out. this is against the rules but it was just instinct and it was a soft tackle and he did apologize. he said he panicked and had to do it. (this was because you were ineffective at your j-o-b and he once again had to pick up your slack). no one got hurt so i was fine with it, but then out of nowhere, your stupid horse face appears (took you a few seconds to catch up to the play) and you proceed to once again push your shnozz into my personal air bubble just to heckle me and say “ha ha ha, how did you like THAT, huh!?” or something to that effect. your keeper is apologizing and helping me up while you continue to serve your signature smack sandwich. your keeper tried explaining to you why what he did was against the rules, and you said something along the lines of “what-eh-vur! she deserved it”. gallop gallop gallop.
then some random dude on the sideline asks the ref if he can sub in for your team. the ref had the decency to ask our team if we thought that was acceptable, which we did not, as we had less players during the first half of the game and 2nd half you had a player leave so we were playing 8 players to your 8 or 9 players. well, you threw your arms in the air and said “aw come on! just let him play! what’s the big deal! it’s just one guy! you guys are such whiners! your team whines too much! i can’t believe you won’t let him play! this is so STUPID! man, you guys really like to whine, you’re such whiners! just let him play, we’re just playing a friendly game! you won’t let him play, seriously?! oh my god your team is a bunch of whiners! i’m so sick of all your whining!”
and on. and on. and on.
the game commenced, without the extra player, and you were still complaining that we were a bunch of whiners, so i finally turned to you and said, “actually, if you listen carefully, the ONLY person whining RIGHT NOW and for the last few minutes is YOU, so why don’t YOU quit YOUR whining. you’ve been WHINING the whole entire game. if you’re SO tired of listening to WHINING, YOU have to stop. YOU are the BIGGEST WHINER here”.
and then you said, pointing your hairy wrinkly hoof at me, “YOU listen to ME, i’m OLDER than YOU, i’ve been playing this game LONGER than YOU’VE been ALIVE”, and then you pointed at me super a lot and opened your horse eyes wide and raised your horse brows as if to say, ‘you better respect, beotch’.
(and, i thought to myself, wow, YOU just burned your SELF and you THINK you just burned ME. interesting. nice work. definitely dealing with a psycho.)
so i sez, “well i’m SO glad i’m NOT YOU, because you ARE old, and if i were YOU, i’d be SAD, because you’re an OLD PERSON picking on someone YOUNGER AND SMALLER than you, congratulations, you know what that makes you, a big fat BULLY, that’s what you are, A BULLY” and i pointed at her as i ran past, eyes wide open with brows raised high and a nice smarmy smirk on my face.
and now, my favorite part. you yelled at me as loud as you could and lunged towards me, probably to make me pee in me drawers because you felt that you were pretty scary. all 5 feet 4 inches and 130 pounds of you. i might have peed my drawers but it was likely from laughing at you. i think you screamed something like “oh YEAH, well YOU’RE the biggest FUCKING BITCH blah blah BLAH!!!”
seriously, that was the best you could do? i’ve been called a biggest fucking bitch so many times in my younger, smaller life by people much more entertaining than you, please, don’t waste your best material on me. my own mother has called me that and plenty of other more colorful names, while trying to kick me out of her house, ripping my phone cord in half and jumping on top of me while simultaneously trying to strangle me. you can’t compete with that shit, trust me. i felt bad for you because i knew you were saving that particular morsel the entire game, building up to it so that you could whip it out and get extreme satisfaction from the climax of your dramatically stellar performance, bravo bravo, “real housewives of seattle” is FINALLY going to snatch you up at the next tryout. i’ll send them a letter of recommendation on your behalf.
it was just so perfect. you enunciated very well, and projected your voice–directly at the back of the ref. the ref turns around and blows the whistle to stop the game, tells us to split it up, and you’re STILL talking smack. then, because you’re a super classy gal, you immediately perform a foul, and as is custom, bitch and whine about it (because you haven’t learned any rules yet, even though you’ve been given at least 60 minutes’ worth of complimentary instruction), and i’m about to take the free kick, but i’m waiting for you to give me 10 yards. everyone and their brother is yelling at you to move back. the ref blows his whistle and tells you “she’s asking for 10” and you’re completely oblivious to everyone and just have your flaring horse nostils pointing at me, eyes glaring, like you’re about to charge me. you’re doing your weird “dance”, shuffling from hoof to hoof, saying “come on, kick the ball already, what’re you waiting for, kick the ball, you’re taking forever, what’s wrong with you, kick the ball already” and i’m just standing there rolling my eyes, they can’t roll back any farther, and you’re still heckling me. you look like a skinny bobbleheaded puppet with large fake wooden teeth, a marionette being made to look goofy and gangly and uncoordinated, i hoped i wasn’t paying to watch this show. the ref actually had to come over to you, shove you in a box and physically try to move you back. which you still didn’t do. it took a lot for me to refrain from kicking the ball directly up your shnozz. you can thank my therapist for that, she is obviously doing a smashing job.
you were still heckling me after the fact and the ref yelled at you, like a mama dog to his bad baby dog, “I ASKED YOU BOTH TO STOP, SO YOU NEED TO STOP” and you flapped yer yap and he said “BUT YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STARTED IT and I ASKED YOU BOTH TO STOP”. gee whiz. what do you want, a written invitation?
my teammate sensed that you and i were having severe domestic issues and offered to switch positions with me. i thanked her and said, loud enough for your horse face and teammates to hear, “great idea because i’m about to kick someone’s ass”. (get it, “ass”, horse, donkey…? no? too soon? aw, forget it.) i got some looks from your team that indicated they were taking me at my word. the new girl i was marking was careful not to stand too close. the thing is, everyone else on your team was so NICE. if they accidentally bumped into anyone, even if it was only a tap, they would still say “oops, sorry about that!”. i had conversations with several other players, the normal chit chat and joking around about this or that. you couldn’t have been any more annoying even if you’d tried.
in any case, i almost forgot why i was writing you this letter. you did everything you could to get a rise out of me, to push my buttons, and all after i’d had 2 super crappy days in a row. you were really testing my patience. this is something i’ve been working on during the past few years–trying not to lose my shit at the drop of a hat around assholes like you. you were a true test. not once did i take you out, nor did i drop any eff bombs–and no, i’m totally not fucking with you–i did not cuss, not a once, not a ever. that, my friend, is what you call ‘progress’. also, it is called, “i. am. so. AMAZING.” because god knows, i am always talking shit. and i mean, always. so. thank you.
please tell me you haven’t borne any children.
in conclusion, the next time we meet on the pitch, i give you this–my personal guarantee–i promise to make your life extremely difficult. i can assure you that my henchmen have also received the memo and look forward to our meeting.
bye bye you silly frito! i’m outta here!
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o my gawd, seriously?!

Published December 12, 2012 by snowhillofdoom

who ARE these people who think they can just walk all over you?

why are they such bullies?

when i used to work at an art studio, an ART S-T-U-D-I-O, i got bullied all the FREAKING TIME.

getting bullied all the freaking time wasn’t anything new, bullies have given me a hard time my whole life, but come ON, it was an ART STUDIO. you know there is something wrong if you get bullied in an art studio.

i was the floor manager so i had the pleasure of dealing with all sorts of weird situations. most of the time they were entertaining. and then a situation would come along that made absolutely no freaking sense whatsoever, so much so that i wouldn’t know what to do except become a deer in the headlights.

so the owner from the store next to the art studio opens the front door, keeps it open, stares me down across a crowded room of families who are sitting at tables quietly painting or standing in line to pay (i am at the register which is far away from the front door) and who are all now staring at her because she is just standing there with some sort of mysterious but urgent purpose.

i know who she is, she’s the witch next door who owns a children’s store and hair cutting biz, and i got customers up the yahoo so she is definitely last on my list of priorities. she “ahems” me from across the studio because her presence has not gotten the royal welcome she was trying to suck out of me and i barely look at her out of the corner of my eye and, get this, she literally says “it smells like dirty diapers in my store” with such an air of authori-TAY and as if it’s all my fault. at this point i have already gone well past my tolerance of her witchy brew and i’m not sure what company protocol is in this sort of situation so i just keep doing my job and click my heels three times to try to wish her away.

it doesn’t work. she continues. “it smells like dirty diapers in my store and it’s COMING FROM YOUR STUDIO.” and i’m like, woop dee doo lady, thanks for the tip, bye bye for now, nice catchin’ up with ya. of course, the customers are like, wtf is going on, is there going to be a gang fight soon, should we be hiding under the tables or should we just continue painting? they look at me as if i know what the fuck to do and i’m like, uh, hello, she is clearly a psycho, and psychos can’t be dealt with, everybody knows THAT, and, NO, i don’t know what to do. HOWEVER, if anyone has any suggestions just feel free to blurt them out at any time. anyone? anyone???

so the witch is still not getting the desired results and her posse (worker bees) have now assembled themselves by her side (like they do in music videos when they’re about to break it down) and they are advancing into the studio towards me while she continues on her weird rant about “stinky diaper smells coming from here” la la la la blah! her posse is all smarmy looking, hands on hips, some of them are filing their nails even, surly expressions all pointed in my direction, while their queen just babbles on and on about dirty diapers. god, people are so fucking weird.

i try to muster up any sort of maturity i might have hidden somewhere so as to appear professional even though this situation is clearly insane. and then i decide that i must throw myself into the fire and let the art studio customers continue their afternoon without having to see this strange and stupid spectacle. it doesn’t even make any goshdarned sense and it’s just uncomfortable when you are a guest somewhere and something weird happens and you’re trying not to react or stare but you don’t want to be rude and just ignore what is obviously going on. what i SHOULD’VE done is formally introduced her as “the witch next door, in case any of y’alls wanna get ur kids’ hairs cutted after y’alls done paintin’, uh hee hee.”

i go for the simplest solution and just start walking out the door of the studio and into the witches’ store next door, hoping they will follow me. sure enough they follow me without missing a beat. the queen is still flapping her hairy wrinkly yap and her posse is still hands on hips and surly. and then as if the whole situation wasn’t already weird enough, they form a circle around me–some are sitting on merchandise shelves, some are behind the counter, some are actually lying the fuck down on the floor, all the while there are CUSTOMERS in the store and some random kid is getting a haircut, and the person cutting his hair comes over to join the circle. hell, they even rang out a customer while all this was going on. i mean, seriously, a customer actually BOUGHT something in this environment (she gave me a questioning look but i was like, dude, why does everybody think i have the answers, i don’t even know my ass from my face at the moment).

what’s even WEIRDER is that i haven’t even said one fucking word yet. not a word. not even a dirty look. nothing. i guess i was just in shock and also waiting to see what they were going to do so that i could come up with a clever response. hopefully something involving kung fu fighting and plenty of judo chops. but they really didn’t have anything for me to respond to because it was all just nonsense. you can’t reply to nonsense with sense, everbuddy knowed dat!

so i’m just standing and turning ’round to kind of hear what they want to throw at me in case there IS by chance SOMETHING, ANYTHING, i can work with. but there ain’t. it starts with “the dirty diaper smell is coming from your studio” to “oh my GOD the dirty diaper smell is coming from YOU!”–i kid you not. NOT ONLY did they say THAT and then all AGREE, they all (get THIS) took turns leaning in to “SNIFF” me, and THEN said “oh my GOD the dirty diaper smell is coming from YOU” and then they thought it was so funnnnyyyyy, oh, so much laughing, so much, so much, can’t, breathe, so, funnyyyyy.

now, what kind of peoples do these sorts of things exactly?  i wasn’t sure what was going on, it was probably one of the most surreal times of my life. and even up to THAT point i STILL hadn’t said ANYTHING, not a peep, not a dirty look, nuthin’.

but after the last dirty bird had “sniffed” me, and they had finally run out of stuff to say, AND they were done laughing, i was like, uh, wow it’s really quiet now, awkward, ok, i guess the party’s over bitches, good meetin’, let’s do this again sometime, peace out! and so, i walked my dirty diaper smelling ass out of the store (i had to step OVER the girl laying on the floor to get out of the circle first) in total silence, and went back to my studio, still unsure about what exactly had happened and why. when i told my coworkers what had happened, one of them said, “next time she comes in here complainin’ about the smell, tell her to check her upper lip!”.

i thought i was over all that, but then today, TODAY i got picked on AGAIN.

the afternoon was going as well as it could’ve been considering i have a cold and feel like poop.

we get home from school and everything’s fine and then i tell my kid to stop whatever he is doing so we can do homework first. well he doesn’t want to do it and he’s too tired and he’s whining and writing his letters all weird and acting stupid etc and i’m trying to keep him on task. i’m thinking, gee WHIZ, all ya gotta do is draw shapes, count circles, write the letter “m”, what the HECK, just hurry up already, you’re KILLIN’ ME!!! i’d do it myself but my handwriting is WAY nicer than yours!!!

he just gets worse and worse. then we are almost done and by then the other kid has chimed in with her 2 cents’ worth and then all of a sudden they are just talking down to me, and saying stupid things like “you always say no to everything”. and i ask, “to what exactly?” and they say, “to having candy and anything fun”. et-cetera, et-cetera, et-cetera.

the whole time they are bullying me i am calm and telling them dumb things like “i say no to candy because i care about your teeth” or “i want you to make the next letter nicer than that one” or whatever, managing both of them at the same time, and i didn’t raise my voice at all or “punish” them or threaten to take anything away.

and then one of them goes to the fridge and takes down the drawing of us that i love and rips it to shreds. uhhh, what?! as IF!

it reminded me of that art studio story. it was so petty and surreal when that happened and this time with my own kids i was like, are you FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT O HELL NO. it was the same situation then as it was today–sometimes people mess with you because they’re trying to get some sort of reaction out of you–and if you don’t react, they just keep poking at you and poking at you til you hopefully explode.

i was just dragging my ass around, surviving and getting through the day, and then all of a sudden they decided to fucking pull some shit out of their asses and fling it all over me. what the FUCK. man, they seriously got me all riled up and then all these feelings from the art studio and–GAAAHH!

you want a reaction i’ll give you a reaction! JUDO CHOPS ALL AROUND!!!!