Poor little Twiggy
You're the one at Starbucks jabbing people who are already in line with your bony little elbows because you're TOO IMPORTANT to stand in line.
You're the one going out on the town in 10 degree weather with no coat because you can't BEAR to deprive the world an opportunity to see your "cute little outfit."
You're the one riding my ass in traffic because YOU'RE SPECIAL and have to get there RIGHT NOW. The rest of us have to plan our travel time around you, because you're the idiot trying to jump in front in the construction zone and causing a bottle neck.
You're the one drinking horrid blue drinks in the bar of the moment GETTING HORRIFICALLY DRUNK while screeching about how your job is like, sooooo, like, beneath you. And if anyone tells you to SHUT THE FUCK UP you scream that they're FAT because your tiny little brain can't think of a more creative insult.
You're the one who has the money for all your cute little outfits and blue drinks, and you never tip.
You came from Ohio or Wisconsin to Washington, D.C. and have decided that you personally discovered this place, and true to the American tradition, have concluded that the natives are barbaric and MUST BE DRIVEN OFF your precious territory, whether it be in the office of elsewhere.
New flash: You're an office intern because YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING. Making presentations in Powerpoint is the beginning and end of your skills.
You cannot THINK FOR YOURSELF, and this is evident in the fact that you're pissed off that nobody appreciates your cute little outfits. You think other women hate you because you're cuter than they. Poor little thing, making copies all day.
Maybe other women hate you because YOU'RE A SELF-CENTERED LITTLE BITCH who COMPLAINS MORE THAN SHE WORKS.
Oh yeah, and some people might be fat because of a health problem, but that matters not to you. No, ill-health is something people bring on themselves because they have an UNHEALTHY LIFESTYLE. How dare the big woman not lose 50 pounds overnight on demand to make your office landscape prettier.
Oh yeah, and WHAT DO YOU THINK INTERNS ARE FOR? You're cheap disposable labor, honey, and you have much more in common the Hispanic Lawn Boys around your condo than you ever dreamed.
Work is not the place to show off your stupid little fucking outfits, unless, of course, you're so hard up to get laid that you have to go fishing at the office.
It doesn't matter, though, because in six months you'll be gone. We will not weep, however, because you'll be replaced by another little replicant Twiggy.
You're not that special, bitch.
Go eat your yogurt.