I've mentioned before that I work with some great people on a very small staff at the part-time writing gig. One of them is very mild mannered but has a tart sense of humor that she lets fly on the sly when you least expect. Of course, I adore her.
A few weeks ago, she challenged me to find some odd tidbit on the Internet and I said something along the lines of, "I told you, my bitch!"
Stunned silence. I immediately apologized. Luckily she does have a great sense of humor and claimed she was honored by the nickname.
This week on my desk, there magically appeared a slender tome with the bold titles, How to Be a Bitch with Style.
Nice.
This sweet little number promises to teach you to climb The Twelve Steps to BITCHHood and use your thoughts to control your life.
How does one get control, I wondered? Luckily there were pre-control questions.
(1) Are you in total control of your Self? Why is self capitalized here? Am I now a god-like creature? And shouldn't that be yourself all-one-word?
(2) Are you responsible for what happens to you or is someone always doing it to you? God, I wish someone was doing it to me.
(3) Are you ready to lead a more healthy, happy, prosperous and fulfilling life? Not really, I much prefer mediocrity and enduring poverty.
(4) Do you really know who you are and why you are here? I always assumed my special purpose was low-brow humor. Could that be wrong?
(5) Are you ready to fulfill your devine purpose for being on this planet? Devine? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think she meant devein, like when you devein a shrimp? Devine is actually a city in Texas: population 3, 298. No shit, I looked it up.
After answering those five short questions, I'm pretty convinced I don't need her help. I'm as big of a bitch as they come!
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