I'm So NOT Wrong . . .
Bitch in the office across from my own is speaking to someone and totally brought up the Jean Grae issue (thinking I had already left for the day). I've reiterated the Jean Grae issue just to refresh everyone's minds on my issues (or maybe non-issues). Maybe I'm not wrong. Maybe people really DO hate me. Oh shit. Paranoia! Paranoia!
The current inhabitant [in the office across from my own] is a vapid blonde that hails for the Chicago area. For all intents and purposes we should be friends. She's from the Midwest. She works for one of my former editors. And we don't have any literary interest in common so she is not a professional threat. All that said, it is still impossible for me to like her. In the privacy of my own abode, I will often mimic of valley girlesque speaking pattern. "Yah, I think that's like totally cool. You know," and mock her less than ambitious literary contributions--fascinating Latina Chick Lit (though she is white and doesn't speak a lick of Spanish) or provocative YA novels that really blows the lid off of underage sex, drugs and drinking (complete with condemnation and moralizing).
So today I happened to pick up a quote sheet that she’d printed out for one of her oh so hip Latina chick lit novels entitled “So Fly” that had an endorsement from Jean Grae. Erroneously she pegged dear Jean as a DJ. I picked up the sheet and politely informed her that Jean Grae is actually a rapper. The girl looks at me and says no she’s DJ. I respond, no I think Babygrande would tell you she’s a rapper. The girl gets haughty and says, “well when I spoke to her she said DJ and I’m afraid I have to go with the artist wishes.” I shrug my shoulders and walk away to type this post to all you as she goes up to her faggot friend’s office to bitch about my know it all attitude.
The current inhabitant [in the office across from my own] is a vapid blonde that hails for the Chicago area. For all intents and purposes we should be friends. She's from the Midwest. She works for one of my former editors. And we don't have any literary interest in common so she is not a professional threat. All that said, it is still impossible for me to like her. In the privacy of my own abode, I will often mimic of valley girlesque speaking pattern. "Yah, I think that's like totally cool. You know," and mock her less than ambitious literary contributions--fascinating Latina Chick Lit (though she is white and doesn't speak a lick of Spanish) or provocative YA novels that really blows the lid off of underage sex, drugs and drinking (complete with condemnation and moralizing).
So today I happened to pick up a quote sheet that she’d printed out for one of her oh so hip Latina chick lit novels entitled “So Fly” that had an endorsement from Jean Grae. Erroneously she pegged dear Jean as a DJ. I picked up the sheet and politely informed her that Jean Grae is actually a rapper. The girl looks at me and says no she’s DJ. I respond, no I think Babygrande would tell you she’s a rapper. The girl gets haughty and says, “well when I spoke to her she said DJ and I’m afraid I have to go with the artist wishes.” I shrug my shoulders and walk away to type this post to all you as she goes up to her faggot friend’s office to bitch about my know it all attitude.