********************************************she was droning. as always. in that kill-a-canary-pitch (yeah, waaaay higher than my drunkest wavery soprano EVER) sing-songy end everything with a question mark way? "so i went to the party and i was early ( i don't need to ask what party. i don't care and she'll just keep talking either way.) and i had some pumpkin ale and it was really good but i only drank half cuz then i had a sour apple martini but then i found my beer and had some more pumpkin ale and then i had another sour apple martini and then somebody gave me some amaretto, wow that's really good, i never had it before, and then i had some, not too much, but some more pumpkin ale... i don't know why i don't feel good today..." really, all that and you don't feel so good? i'm shocked you're not in an insulin coma.
i realized i was clenching my fist, rhythmically banging the podium so i did not reach right down her throat and rip out her voicebox.
i felt like a lynx in a trap. but just my flesh was caught, not bone. i knew i could get away. i just had to propel. !!!! BOING!! i have to make THIS call...
she is one waste of carbon. ack. my snobbery is happily fed knowing she grew up in, and her parents still reside in, a trailer. that she is going bald. that she drinks lots of rockstar and redbull. that her always splayed open (cheap) purse is overflowing with scratch tickets, menthol camels (seriously), breath mints, a rat's-nested hairbrush and some pink-tinted drugstore perfume. that she wears jessica simpson shoes. (who knew? really?) that she thinks *rich* people shop at marshall's. that "anyways" and "irregardless" and "acrosst" are accepted in her vocabulary. that she has never spent more than $30 on A COAT. that i am 100% positive she has never asked me, even in pointless rhetorical fashion, "how are you?" her ailments, her aches, her peculiar and exaggerated lethargy defined by marathon sessions of sleep, where she sleeps through dozens of phone calls... besides tossing off that she is likely clinically depressed, i have met few people who lack dynamism as severely as does she. she is a black hole of energy suck.
when dancing about my new and improved gypsy status for the company, i was met with much dismay from the staff. mucho. i was surprised, really. i don't care if they like me, so it never occurred to me they do, lol. out came the truth of how, yeah, they go drinking with her, but they don't like her for all the usual reasons that befall a narrow, ignorant, petty cunt. she favors the boys; she is two-faced; she regularly throws people under the bus; she's lazy; etc. haha! how do you really feel, kids? it was a torrent.
the thorn in the bubble is that she is a pet of the owner. he had her sister previously and groomed her, and now is doing this one. she is good at a few things (i'm not a total bitch of denigration, k ?) and by virtue of longevity knows the customers and the owner better than most. he's flung some mistruths my way that i know came from her. when under the big huge greyhound bus tire i can't/won't muster much defense. ack.
my experience with women is purposely limited. i never can be sure if these women gravitate to my industry or so many women are just this way. i do know it's why i prefer men.
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