Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Don't dish it out if you can't take it.

Some years ago, right after I got in the union, I was assigned (by a former call steward* who didn't approve of women in our local) to work with a rigging crew who were notorious for practical jokes and brutal insults ('all in good fun', of course).

I was raised in a household where everyone was very proper and one simply did not dignify boorish behavior with any kind of a response, so working on this crew was really an education for me.

A few things I learned from them:

1) Don't take abuse lying down. Letting the other person know that they hurt your feelings just means you're weak and ripe for more comments about your mother.

2) Right off the bat, go for the jugular. Everyone wants an easy target, so don't be one.

3) The 'fast' way to tie a bowline knot.

4) The title of this post.

So, last night The Blonde sent me on a blind date with a producer whom I'll just call Hairplugs.

It didn't go well. When I walked in and introduced myself, the first thing he said was "I thought you'd be hotter."

This took me by surprise, as I was expecting him to at least say hello.

"Yeah, and your body's okay, but you really need to get your teeth done."

While I was contemplating if I should preserve my dignity by giving him a withering look and stomping out, my mouth opened and out popped a rigger insult:

"Do your customers at the strip club call you jiggles? When you're not at work you should put a bra on those bitch tits so they don't flop around."

I think I might have even made a hand gesture indicating two pendulous breasts knocking together in time to the restaurant's soft jazz.

It's true you never think of the really good ones at the right time. On a certain rigging crew, that would have brought down the house.

Of course, as soon as I said "bitch tits" everything around us got real quiet, and Hairplugs sputtered some lame insult (I think he called me a cunt, which is about as upsetting to me as being asked the time of day) and walked out.

I guess he's not very popular in that particular restaurant, because enough of the staff bought me drinks that I had to catch a cab home.

Hey, guys?

I don't think I ever thanked you for teaching me how to fight back.

* If you need a guy for work, and everyone you know is busy, you call the union hall to fill the job and the call steward is the person you deal with.


deepstructure said...

wow. your sub-title is right. that's a side of the film industry i've never seen (and hope to never see). sheesh.

Marste said...

Just. Wow. You are my hero. :D

Anonymous said...

I think I'm in love with you. That was fantastic.

Anonymous said...

Peggy...that was AWESOME. Way to stick it to a guy who clearly doesn't deserve even the time of day from you!


Anonymous said...

Right on!!! Boy I kinda wish I was single @ this point. I a local 80 grip have worked with women that can run circles around some of the brothers (union that is).

Anonymous said...

I thought Don Simpson was dead...

FrancesDanger said...

You are officially my role-model, my super hero, and the wind beneath my wings. AWESOME!!

Melinda said...

"Rigger insult" has just replaced "bitchslap" in my vocabulary.

Congrats on handing that loser his ass, but how on earth did The Blonde think setting you up with obvious loser was a good idea in the first place?

On the lighter side, a sexist, follicle-challenged producer with manboobs who thinks he's God's gift to the ladies and a non-bimbo who rigger-insults him with a mighty backhand...kids, I think we have a sitcom here.

Love your blog Peggy. But nevermore so than with this post.

Norman said...

Your comment was just the sort of thing that I would have thought of myself -- except about thirty minutes after the chughead had stomped out, and after I had had two stiff drinks.

You get points for thinking of it, but you get way mad points for thinking of it while he was still there!

Dave2 said...

I once went on a date where the second thing out of her mouth was "do you make your hair look like that on purpose??"

To which I replied: "No. I pay somebody $70 and THEY make my hair look like this on purpose... do you dress like a hooker on purpose?"

She laughed, ordered her dinner, excused herself to use the bathroom, then never came back. Needless to say, I didn't care.

I hope I made her cry, because I am a total bastard that way.

The Lone Beader said...

Wow. I couldn't have said it better myself. And, yep, ya gotta know how to throw a bowline...one handed, and behind your back. LOL!

Anonymous said...

What a schmuck! You certainly handled that well. Although an amusing alternative would have been to stay for dinner, order the most expensive items on the menu ("Ohh! I've always wanted to try Dom Perignon!"), and then insult him and leave.

I wonder what's more absurd - hair plugs or a comb-over?

Iron Rails & Iron Weights

Stan said...

Just wanted to add my voice here. I am in awe. That was just what he needed. You deserve both ears and the tail.

H.P. said...

What's a matter with you? Can't you take a joke? I was just teasing.

And then you had to say such a mean thing about my gravity-challenged pectorals. (Which BTW, have been a tender subject since they first appeared during the summer before seventh grade.) It was very upsetting to me and I overreacted, so I'm sorry I said that thing and walked out.

But later that night I just couldn't stop thinking about you. And about how hot you really are -- as a person I mean, because at the restaurant I was just being ironic; my real friends know that the real me totally has respect for women – and as I was lying there in my bed, I suddenly got sooooo fucking hard that I had to get up and make sure I hadn't mixed up the Ambien with my Viagra!

Please, please, please... let's just try it again. Maybe we can even skip the whole superficial dinner thing and go straight to my basement where you can secure me to a post with bowline knots and administer the hot discipline I desperately crave.


Mike80 said...

Brilliant! Now that you put the producer (of hair plugs) in his place, I think you owe the Blonde a little instant karma.
BTW, I'm a straight guy, and I gotta say a lot of (if not most of) the women in this town I have encountered over the last 10 years are like your producer. Sadly, the door of shallowness swings both ways, and I now find a cold beer and Tivo has way more upside than dating in LA. Good luck out there - its one ugly jungle.

Spike said...

Fucking ace! You go, girl.

Dan said...

You're like a behind the camera Amy Sedaris. Personally, I've become A-Sexual. It really takes the pressure off.

Milehimama said...

Why does HP sound like he's channelling Paris Hilton?

You are awesome. I always think of the lines, but then am too chicken to say them, but they always crack me up so instead I start laughing. And my date would leave. Same effect, not as satisfying.

genius said...

Yep, that's the producer I know, smooth....

The Unsomnambulist said...

If I was single, I'd insist I buy you dinner.
Awesome post.

encinoblogger said...

On behalf of men, above and below the line, please accept my apology. It's for sure you're not gonna get one from that bastard. Time to give The Blonde a stern lecture

Carly said...

I so wish I'd been a fly on the wall for that momtne. Priceless.

Anonymous said...

Classic! Bitch Tits + a crack about how he has to pay for it (at the strip club) + confirming his fears that the ladies at the club talk about him behind his back! SO efficient! Going straight for the jugular.

Lindsay Lohan could use you on Team Firecrotch! I wish I was you!

Anonymous said...

Technically speaking, Hair Plugs probably had Fat Man Boobs rather than Bitch Tits per se. Fat Man Boobs are comprised of excess body fat and therefore aren't uncommon in overweight men. Lose weight, and the Fat Man Boobs will go. Bitch Tits are comprised of glandular breast tissue; while they can be genetic in some men, more often they result from careless steroid use. Only surgery can get rid of them.

Iron Rails & Iron Weights

Assistant Atlas said...

Peggy, I've said it before and I'll say it again. There's nothing hotter than a proper lady who, under the right circumstances, can, and will, curse like a sailor.

Classic, baby, classic.