b3ta.com user orestes
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» Absolute Power

I'm the person who decides whether to refund your bank charges or not.
and generally, i'm pretty nice about it and i'll listen and understand. i don't agree with bank charges (if you look at the letter of the law, they ARE fucking illegal whatever the court decision was.) other people i work with act like they're some kind of almighty superhero and take pride in never cutting anyone any slack. those people are arseholes and prannocks and deserve to be punched in the genitalia.

the power trip comes thusly and if you've ever worked in a call centre you'll understand.

people who call up and are nice will get listened to and i'll do all i can to bend the rules to get them their refund or overdraft increase or whatever. people who call up in a rage will also get listened to as long as they don't get personal. i completely get people who call up and say "i'm not having a go at you, you're just doing your job, but you can understand why i'm pissed off." i do understand why they're pissed off and i'll help them out.

but people who call up and swear at you, call you names, talk down to you and threaten you can fuck right off and are going to get precisely nothing. if you can't treat a fellow human being with a bit of decency that's all you deserve.

i once had a nurse who lives in my city tell me that now she knew my name she would make sure i got the shittiest treatment possible should i ever be unfortunate enough to visit her hospital and hoped that day came soon. my manager and i closed her account down for being abusive.

hardly absolute power but still. if you can't treat people with respect you can fuck right off.
(Thu 8th Jul 2010, 21:58, More)

» Ouch!

the death boob
A couple of years ago I was walking down the road with a friend and was distracted momentarily by a poster in a bar window. I kept walking as I read it and then turned my head forwards.


And then there were stars.

The thing I remember most is my eyebrow, right on the bone, hitting the metal lampost so hard that you could hear the metal reverberating for a good few seconds afterwards. True slapstick. I fell back on my arse and bled profusely. Having been knocked silly I could only grin at passers-by stupidly when they asked if I was alright as my mate went in to the nearby shop for first-aid crap. It probably needed stitches but I could not even be remotely bothered with A&E. There is of course, a scar.

The next time was just as stupid and more painful.

I was walking back from band practice one night and was carrying some equipment, bass, small practice amp and a bag taking up both my hands. I crossed the road and wasn't too far from my house when I tripped over my own stupid twatty clumsy feet and began to do the stumbling-forward-fighting-with-gravity-trying-to-right-yourself thing which we've all done.

Several things flashed through my head.

1) I think gravity is going to win this.
2) I'm holding a lot of gear, including my beloved bass, and I don't want it smashed. Therefore I'm not letting go.
3) But you won't have any hands to break your fall idiot!
4) Gravity has definitely won.

I careened forward, too late to drop my equipment. I had only had a split second to react and I had picked replaceable musical equipment over my soft, fleshy body. Mistake.

The area I live in is not one of the city's nicest areas and the council have of course done everything in their power to right this. The main initiative appears to be adding bits of scrubby greenery here and there. One of which is near my house. It's separated from the pavement by a row of flagstones that are upturned like a fence, about a foot off the ground.

It was on to one of these that I fell boob-first.

Now, b3ta seems a pretty blokey place and I would wager that a lot of you do not know how painful this is but I feel I can call on my fellow b3tan ladies to verify that boob trauma is fucking painful. An upturned, pointy flagstone, my bodyweight with nothing to break the fall and my boob crushed in the middle. the impact was so hard I felt the shockwaves wrench my spine. I rolled to the floor, all breath and strength knocked out of me. I thought I'd broken some ribs.

A group of passing scally-type ladies stopped to see if I was ok, lying on the floor wheezing and scared to move as I was. I could only gasp that I was ok as the idea of them trying to move me was too much.

After a while I realised I hadn't broken anything and somehow managed to get home, which was luckily only metres away. I couldn't sleep for a few days as the slightest movement of my back produced tears of pain. I thought of all the stuff in my boob-the flesh and ducts and tubes, hammered flat. I began to get paranoid I'd severed them or permanently torn something. It healed but even today, about a year later, is just that bit more tender. Because I tenderised it.

And a bonus picture of the offending mammary gland. Anyone expecting hot boob pic action will be sorely disappointed as my hand is holding the naughty bit and it's fucking BLACK AND HORRIBLE;


Just to add as well that this was about 3-4 weeks after the event, you can see patches of white where the bruise is subsiding and it's purple rather than black. Originally, my whole breast was black and looked like it had the plague. I didn't take a picture then. I was too busy sobbing.

There have been others. Because I drink a lot and am lacking in common sense. It's a wonder natural selection hasn't weeded me out yet as I doubt any poor child would benefit from sharing my hopeless genes. Survival of the thickest.
(Tue 3rd Aug 2010, 0:07, More)

» Bizarre habits

bluetooth russian roulette
my girlfriend's sister was sat on the top deck of a bus once and her phone went off. incoming image from someone she didn't know. she opened it and it was an erect cock. as the picture didn't contain a face she had no idea who sent it.

what a brilliant idea.

so now, whenever i'm in the pub i play the same game. i change the name of my phone to something stupid then send ridiculous pictures via bluetooth to whoever will accept. my favourite is this one;

(Sun 4th Jul 2010, 3:18, More)

» Crappy relationships

I dated a vegan
And I loved her, I truly did and I completely respected her beliefs. I understood why she was vegan, the ethical ramifications, the shit she would get casually from strangers when she had to reveal her dietary choice-people would be cruel and flippant and actively taunt her, even though she did not force her beliefs on anyone and simply explained why she believed what she did.

She inflicted these beliefs on no one except me. I could not eat meat around her. I could not talk about eating meat around her. I could not have my own choice in what I ate. I was, as her partner, an extension of her choice.

Then came the day when I lent my mate money for a kebab and she punched me. That's when I knew it was over.

And my first girlfriend was just all the arseholes in the world rolled into one gaping, all encompassing whole. There aren't words. Truly. But that was a decade ago so fuck her, water under the bridge right?

(Sort of. I still secretly hope she's addicted to crack in a council house.)
(Fri 22nd Oct 2010, 2:41, More)

» Beautiful Moments, Part Two

City of Culture 2008.
Pub in Liverpool city centre.

Old bloke having a piss. Out of the doorway into the crowded street. Hand braced against the frame, swaying, eyes staring intently at his cock as his piss mingled with the rainwater in the gutter.

About as close as you'll get to a beautiful moment in Liverpool.
(Thu 5th Aug 2010, 22:10, More)
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