The Baddest Bitch

Special request to Michie Wong. Apologies for the long ting in posting. It's just been work, work, work. Anyways here's one I did while pretending to look like I was working.

I try, but I just can’t. A combination of dawning PMS, and kicking the cigarette habit I picked up again while ‘enjoying’ myself in Malaga is making me even more of a bitch than usual.
My sense of humour leans towards the dark side on most days, but throw a looming red flag (period slow coaches), and nicotine withdrawal, and believe it’s time for That Bitch to come out to play.

Bitch 1: The cab man who picked me up last week. I’ve just done 9 hours up in the ‘plant’ (tation) and am dragging my sagging ass out the door to snoozeville. I stop and pick up a packet of low fat crisps (I’m trying) and get to the car. As I open the door, this ‘new nigga’ (eastern European) says to me: “Please don’t make mess in my car.” WTF?!? Butterfly Bitch says: “Do I look like a child?” “No…but”. I repeat very slowly, because his English was not very good. “Do.I.Look.Like.A.Child?”. Let me describe the car the man was fussing over. Beat-up white Ford Escort estate. They don’t even make them anymore. First of all, my company pays him to drive me. Why is the man acting like he’s doing me a favour? Second of all, that is the type of thing you might say to a 2-year-old. How many adults do you know that can’t accurately perform the hand to mouth action needed to eat crisps without making a mess? Ooh that man did vex me.

Bitch 2: For three days I’d been listening to one of my colleagues sniffle and snuffle. Not once did I see that fool use a tissue. By day four, I snapped. I tried to hard to say it nicely, it went something like this: “Let me get you some tissues ‘sniffing fool’….(ah isn’t she nice) because believe I can’t listen to you sniffing like that for the rest of the night.” Damn girl. He was wrong the week before when he said I was more ‘brutal’ than he was, but I wouldn’t have corrected him on this occasion. If there’s any noise that makes me homicidal, it’s listening to people sniff. Now I have a child, and I can’t stand to hear her sniff. At the first sign of a cold I buy her a box of tissues and almost glue it to her hand. If she can’t stop sniffing in my presence, she goes to her room. I ain’t playing, that noise gets on my last nerve. I just cannot listen to it. Soon after I got him the tissues, I didn’t have to. Needless to say, he no longer talks to me. Do I care?

Bitch 3: I was at the nail shop, and my usual technician ‘Su Ling 1’ was busy. Time was short as I had to be at work in an hour an a half, so I went with ‘Su Ling 2’. As soon as she started hacking at my nails I knew she wasn’t The Girl. She asked me if I wanted them trimmed and then used the tool that they use for filing down the acrylic to grind away at the length of the nails. I was starting to get ‘fraid blud and thought to myself, this ‘new bitch’ is crazy.

Su Ling 1 walked by and I gave her the international nail customer’s sign of distress – it’s like morse code but you do it by fluttering your eyelashes instead of tapping on a machine . She came over and I said, while trying hard not to snatch my hand away from Su Ling 2 who was grinding away at what was left of my acrylics, ‘I wanted you to do my nails, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d be.’ I was wrong in assuming that Su Ling 2’s English wasn’t that good, because a moment later she said ‘You want her do your nails?’, dropped the tool, and left the table. Vex. Oh well. When you’re paying your hard-earned plantation money, people need to come correct. Not one of my nails was the same length. So I was reunited with Su Ling 1, and she did a beautiful job at repairing the damage that was done.

Roll on *Arsenal playing at home.

*Americans: This is a euphemism for menstruation – Arsenal Football Club wear red shirts.