One last bitch fit

I got suckered (read: roped) into going to dinner with the boss, Pussy Demure, and other event organizers. J-Ho was there too, sucking up to me as usual. I think she wants to interview for my newly opened Managing Editor position. Heh — good luck, I don’t think so!

Anyway, my last bitch fit before the closing ceremonies of this damn convention — Demure and the gang (and we all work together) went to dinner at Tangerine’s, and we were also with a rep from the convention and visitor’s bureau from the city we’re visiting next year. Would you fucking believe that Demure refused to pay for our dinners, except for the CVB chick? She pulled out her credit card, and two of us figured that, shit, she brought us to dinner so she would pay for it. Oh, but no. She declared that she was paying only for the other chick’s meal. Dumb fucking cunt! For all the hard work we do, the bitch couldn’t pay for our meals? The bill wasn’t even $150, and she could have gotten reimbursed by the company!!! Asshole! She only makes three times more money than I do — and I’d had plans to meet Karen and Chrissy, which I had to cancel. God damn it. Cheap crusty ole biatch!

Anyway, party till midnight tonight, and a day full of traveling tomorrow. I will miss living in an immaculate hotel suite — I am so damn neat, it’s frightening. Here’s to hoping I can get motivated to retain my rediscovered passion for immaculateness when I get back to D.C.

Anaheim’s been fun — and the balmy near-80-degree weather has been charming, but it will be good to get back to having a car and a cat. My clothes look so different without feline fur!

Clicking heels three times.

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