monster sarcasm rally

After careful consideration (read: she's pissing me off again), I've decided that she who was Bridget Jones is in need of a new moniker. While she's every bit as annoying and cloying and insecure as her namesake, she's also... um... She's not very nice. And she's one of those people who manages to play the part of the evil shrew while speaking in sickeningly sweet tones, so that she can walk away feeling like she's the bigger person. Well, she is the bigger person, literally speaking.

Blah blah blah. Skinny people aren't allowed to say that. It's socially unacceptable. Bite me. This is my blog and I'll insult her any way I choose. Anyaways, she's not fat, she just has ginormous tits that she manages to make full use of. They're always on display. We both have a tendency to stretch the boundaries of acceptable office attire: I would totally wear my jammies if I could, whereas she forgets to wear a shirt with her bra.

She once told Moiraine,

I'm a bull. As long as we do things my way,
we'll get along great.

Okay, bottom line: If you want to be such a cranky cow, be honest about it. Be the crankiest cow you can be; don't sugarcoat it.

On second thought, she stays Bridget. I hated that stupid movie.

This reminds me of the Worst Boss in the History of Bosses. She once told me that she had managed many people in her career and that I was the only one who had ever had a problem with her management style. Clearly, she declared, this meant that the problem was with me, not with her.

No, ya big ninny, it means I'm the only one who's ever said so to your face. Everybody else waits until you leave the room to complain about you.

If you're very good little boys and girls, someday I'll tell you about her.