Monday, March 08, 2004

Sexy Spinster and I just came back driving around town to eat a $5 Little Caesar's pizza and talked.

Oh, how we talked. Mostly about ... me. Well, not "me" but the group of guys who sit around everyday, having discussions about me. Gossip, if you will.

One of them is Dior Boy. Let me paraphrase what he told my good friend SS:

"I know Lily likes me. And she would have printed anything I said [for Paw Prints.]" Let's make things clear that I do not like that two-faced fucker with a titan of an ego. In any case, my private and professional affairs are kept separate anyway.

Sexy Spinster: I ... don't think so. If [what you wrote] was crap, she would've just edited it all out.

Dior Boy: Oh, well she's power hungry.

Middle-Class-White-Bread-Assholes: *nod in agreement* Yeah, she thinks she can walk all over people.

Sexy Spinster: Um ... I think that's only possible if you let her do it. People go to her for advice because they respect her opinion.

Sexy Spinster says they feel threatened by me. They list off what I deem to be accomplishments and pass them off as embarrassments.

"Oh, she thinks she's cool 'cause she's the editor."

"Oh, she was published in the Spectator."

"Glad she's leaving [for university.]"

"Hope she fails."

They also critique my clothes, concluding that my style and how I dress is a "vibrant attention seeking mechanism."

*sigh* Terribly bitter and spiteful towards someone they haven't spoken to in months, don't you think? Didn't think I was so popular with the boys ... all four of them.

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