Useless Bitches Part 2: Relocating Hammers
I think we've all been here.
We have the day off--and so does the rest of the continent. We decide we're going to do something mellow, like, oh, how about--KNITTING? Yeah, we're gonna spend the afternoon knitting and reading all the blogs we're behind because we actually had shit to do during the holiday season and couldn't find a Useless Bitch who was either capable or willing to do it. But that's all over now and all we want is peace on---
BANG! BAM! BAM! (INSERT SWEARING MALE HERE) BAMBAMBAM!
What does a Useless Bitch do? Goes out there and says, "Uh, um, when are you going to be done doing a job that's actually a union job and you could do on a non-day off?" Now picture her being ignored--the guys know who the Useless Bitches are and what they'll do if you bother to answer them--nothing, not a damned thing.
Now, we useful bitches? We're dangerous in this position. Here's what WE do:
Lesson 2: Relocating Hammers and Other Forms of Revenge
Requirements: One knitting/crochet/scrapbook project in dire need of being finished, but isn't getting done because some asshole is outside doing something like, oh, putting in WINDOWS in the northern USA in DECEMBER? Yeah, that'll do.
Why yes, it's happening at my house right now--how'd you guess? I might have to drop the window here and there because even tho I'm in my own room there's one window left to replace in here and even though I got a great electric throw blanket, it'd be just like these guys to decide to work in my room and scatter shit all over my knitting.
Other requirements: A six-pack of beer, preferably one belonging to the noise makers, but not necessary due to alternate revenge.
A paraffin spa, preferably one where the wax is rose-scented or peach-scented. Although mine's scented with several essential oils for use when my hands are sore, I think it would work.
Your phone number, in what looks like his handwriting.
Your best friend's phone number, ditto.
One of his tools, preferably a hammer--they're not cheap, you know. You know this because some asshole used his best patronizing tone to tell you so because you needed it to drive a nail into something in the house but (Dog forbid) didn't put it away again. A Sawsall is even better--but could catch fire due to the paraffin, so perhaps sticking to non-electric tools is best.
PROCEDURE:
Begin by wondering aloud why ONE guy can put a window in within an hour's time but when he gets a "buddy" over to "help with the heavy part" the work slows down by about triple the time it was getting done before. Muse that if a lady were in charge that work would be done already and he could be having a beer from the fridge, one of that six-pack of really good shit you picked up a couple of days ago.
Leave them to stew on that statement while you plug in the paraffin spa and call your best friend and tell her that "It's on like Donkey Kong" and you need a hand with this bitch of a man that's over here.
While you're waiting for her, give yourself a paraffin dip--trust me, you're not using that wax again once you use it for this lesson. When your friend gets here, give her a treatment while you explain the procedure. While she hardens, swipe a tool while you muse once again that the inside of the house is nearly the same temperature as the outside thanks to half the windows being gone and the tarps not taped on right. Tape down the tarps yourself while you search for a good tool to dip--yep, into the wax.
Give the tool to your friend after you take off her wax and tell her to dip it enough times to really get full of it in places where it'll be tough to get it out. This is where you grab that six-pack and head for the truck.
Guys like these always have a truck, and only let their women drive it when their cars are down, mostly because they're just too proud of their trucks to trust anyone with them.
So--that's why you've got the truck as a target. If there's no truck it means the truck's in the shop getting useless mods done, and this is actually her car, so they'll be in even worse shit when all is said and done. Shake one beer, then open the top, letting it spray all over the back seat. Meanwhile tell your friend to plant the tool under the passenger seat, then go back and fake a man's handwriting with your phone numbers on some half-assed torn-up piece of his paper in the car. Getting one of his deposit slips to do this on is a bonus win.
When she's got the phone numbers ready, drop them in the back seat--one under the back window, the other somewhere else that looks like it's been dropped too but exposed anyhow. Leave the rest of the six-pack in the back seat--if you're truly pissed about the way you've been patronized and ridiculed by the macho he-men who did work on your house on the most ridiculous day of the year, you'll add to the fun by calling the cops about that truck/car that was weaving past your house "just now".
If you think of more things to add to this lesson, put them in the comments, but I'll leave it at this for now. When the men are "done", write the check to the wrong company and sign your husband/SO's name to it, even if it's your account and house. Sure, it makes you look like a Useless Bitch but you don't want them catching on too soon. When they ask about the beer, ask, "What beer?" with the most innocent smile as you and your friend sip wine from teacups.
If you've pulled this off, they'll be in the paper in the morning. If you've done an exceptional job, they'll be on the TV news. And if you did a perfectly stellar job? They'll be in the obituaries.
Not that you'd wish that on anyone, but who knows what another non-Useless Bitch will do when she's found out he got stopped by the cops because of the beer in the backseat (while he's supposed to be working, remember) of HER car, so when she looks she finds the phone numbers along with the rest of the six-pack.
I recommend mercy here--you really don't actually want him dead, do you? After all, a guy like that isn't worth the jail time. So tell his wife he was an asshole at your house so you fixed his backseat and called the cops to get him in the shit. Whether she's Useless or not won't matter--if she's Useless she'll make him pay for those women's phone numbers because she didn't believe you; if she's non-Useless she'll take the credit cards out for the day and make him literally PAY for what she found.
Either way? Mission accomplished and end of Lesson 2.
I'm betting the noisy nuisances are going to do the front door next week, so there just might be a new lesson very soon.
We have the day off--and so does the rest of the continent. We decide we're going to do something mellow, like, oh, how about--KNITTING? Yeah, we're gonna spend the afternoon knitting and reading all the blogs we're behind because we actually had shit to do during the holiday season and couldn't find a Useless Bitch who was either capable or willing to do it. But that's all over now and all we want is peace on---
BANG! BAM! BAM! (INSERT SWEARING MALE HERE) BAMBAMBAM!
What does a Useless Bitch do? Goes out there and says, "Uh, um, when are you going to be done doing a job that's actually a union job and you could do on a non-day off?" Now picture her being ignored--the guys know who the Useless Bitches are and what they'll do if you bother to answer them--nothing, not a damned thing.
Now, we useful bitches? We're dangerous in this position. Here's what WE do:
Lesson 2: Relocating Hammers and Other Forms of Revenge
Requirements: One knitting/crochet/scrapbook project in dire need of being finished, but isn't getting done because some asshole is outside doing something like, oh, putting in WINDOWS in the northern USA in DECEMBER? Yeah, that'll do.
Why yes, it's happening at my house right now--how'd you guess? I might have to drop the window here and there because even tho I'm in my own room there's one window left to replace in here and even though I got a great electric throw blanket, it'd be just like these guys to decide to work in my room and scatter shit all over my knitting.
Other requirements: A six-pack of beer, preferably one belonging to the noise makers, but not necessary due to alternate revenge.
A paraffin spa, preferably one where the wax is rose-scented or peach-scented. Although mine's scented with several essential oils for use when my hands are sore, I think it would work.
Your phone number, in what looks like his handwriting.
Your best friend's phone number, ditto.
One of his tools, preferably a hammer--they're not cheap, you know. You know this because some asshole used his best patronizing tone to tell you so because you needed it to drive a nail into something in the house but (Dog forbid) didn't put it away again. A Sawsall is even better--but could catch fire due to the paraffin, so perhaps sticking to non-electric tools is best.
PROCEDURE:
Begin by wondering aloud why ONE guy can put a window in within an hour's time but when he gets a "buddy" over to "help with the heavy part" the work slows down by about triple the time it was getting done before. Muse that if a lady were in charge that work would be done already and he could be having a beer from the fridge, one of that six-pack of really good shit you picked up a couple of days ago.
Leave them to stew on that statement while you plug in the paraffin spa and call your best friend and tell her that "It's on like Donkey Kong" and you need a hand with this bitch of a man that's over here.
While you're waiting for her, give yourself a paraffin dip--trust me, you're not using that wax again once you use it for this lesson. When your friend gets here, give her a treatment while you explain the procedure. While she hardens, swipe a tool while you muse once again that the inside of the house is nearly the same temperature as the outside thanks to half the windows being gone and the tarps not taped on right. Tape down the tarps yourself while you search for a good tool to dip--yep, into the wax.
Give the tool to your friend after you take off her wax and tell her to dip it enough times to really get full of it in places where it'll be tough to get it out. This is where you grab that six-pack and head for the truck.
Guys like these always have a truck, and only let their women drive it when their cars are down, mostly because they're just too proud of their trucks to trust anyone with them.
So--that's why you've got the truck as a target. If there's no truck it means the truck's in the shop getting useless mods done, and this is actually her car, so they'll be in even worse shit when all is said and done. Shake one beer, then open the top, letting it spray all over the back seat. Meanwhile tell your friend to plant the tool under the passenger seat, then go back and fake a man's handwriting with your phone numbers on some half-assed torn-up piece of his paper in the car. Getting one of his deposit slips to do this on is a bonus win.
When she's got the phone numbers ready, drop them in the back seat--one under the back window, the other somewhere else that looks like it's been dropped too but exposed anyhow. Leave the rest of the six-pack in the back seat--if you're truly pissed about the way you've been patronized and ridiculed by the macho he-men who did work on your house on the most ridiculous day of the year, you'll add to the fun by calling the cops about that truck/car that was weaving past your house "just now".
If you think of more things to add to this lesson, put them in the comments, but I'll leave it at this for now. When the men are "done", write the check to the wrong company and sign your husband/SO's name to it, even if it's your account and house. Sure, it makes you look like a Useless Bitch but you don't want them catching on too soon. When they ask about the beer, ask, "What beer?" with the most innocent smile as you and your friend sip wine from teacups.
If you've pulled this off, they'll be in the paper in the morning. If you've done an exceptional job, they'll be on the TV news. And if you did a perfectly stellar job? They'll be in the obituaries.
Not that you'd wish that on anyone, but who knows what another non-Useless Bitch will do when she's found out he got stopped by the cops because of the beer in the backseat (while he's supposed to be working, remember) of HER car, so when she looks she finds the phone numbers along with the rest of the six-pack.
I recommend mercy here--you really don't actually want him dead, do you? After all, a guy like that isn't worth the jail time. So tell his wife he was an asshole at your house so you fixed his backseat and called the cops to get him in the shit. Whether she's Useless or not won't matter--if she's Useless she'll make him pay for those women's phone numbers because she didn't believe you; if she's non-Useless she'll take the credit cards out for the day and make him literally PAY for what she found.
Either way? Mission accomplished and end of Lesson 2.
I'm betting the noisy nuisances are going to do the front door next week, so there just might be a new lesson very soon.
posted by Pandora Wildeat 2:52 PM
2 Comments:
Oh. MY. GOD.
I'm learning...
That was awesome.
LOL, Hiya Billychic!
I'm getting sick of being awakened by the drone of a rotary saw or some numbnutted dipshit beating something into a hole in our wall that's either too large or too small for it to take it.
I actually missed the front door--they did it yesterday while I was at the honey's house. There's still three windows and a whole shitload of siding to finish up so I know there will be more lessons.
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