Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smart-Ass, Or, Why You Should Never Carry a Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office : A Memoir Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Jen Lancaster
angelic smile and said, “Tell me, Chad, what do you like to do for fun when you’re not nailing other people’s fiancées in a sadomasochistic manner?”
Anyway, I’d thought I’d nipped yesterday’s infidelity in the bud, but Courtney and Chad have been pounding beer today and have completely lost their inhibitions. Right now they’re snuggled up in a sheltered corner of the boat and— are they heavy petting ? Fortunately, the way we’re all sitting, I’m the only one who can see them.
Though it’s probably none of my business, I’m pissed because Courtney’s fiancé, Brad, is such a nice guy. He worships her. Sometimes we do couple stuff together and that obligates me to protect him. Hell, he took her to Hawaii two weeks ago, and she didn’t get back until right before we left for Florida. I doubt his credit card statements have come yet. Besides, her slutty behavior makes the whole Chicago office look bad. 19 Their mashing gets more heated. I see tongue. Ugh. I stand on my chair and shout, “ WAITRESS! DRINKS! NOW!”
Oh, Court, just because you look like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct doesn’t give you license to act like her. C’mon, guys, these are your coworkers and this graphic public display of affection is both embarrassing and unprofessional, and…wait a second— Courtney, W HERE DID YOUR HAND JUST GO?
GAH! This is a company function and in broad daylight, you are giving Chad a—
The waitress returns with beverages at this exact moment. I can tell from the look on her face that A) she also witnessed Courtney’s busy hands and B) she’s utterly mortified. Bad touch! The rest of our group notices the waitress’ discomfort and cranes to see what she’s gawping at.
For God’s sake, now I’m going to have to something noble to distract everyone from Courtney and Chad and what looks like the beginning of a porno movie. And chivalry is SO not my style.
“Hey!” I bark so abruptly that the server almost drops all the drinks she’s carrying. It’s also loud enough to bring Ron Jeremy and Jenna Jameson to their senses. Everyone looks at me while the horn dogs pull themselves apart.
I yank a crisp hundred-dollar bill out of my coordinating floral Kate Spade wallet and smack it on the waitress’ tray. “Next time, could you please serve our drinks a little faster?” I tap the face of my TAG Heuer watch while my enormous Lagos Caviar jeweled ring catches the light. “The clock is ticking, you know.”
Her eyes narrow, but she accepts the tip. White lipped, she tucks my Benjamin into her cargo shorts while glaring hot-red death at me. But I had to divert everyone’s attention somehow, right? Had I been thinking, I would have yelled, “Shark!”
I arrange a smirk on my face for the benefit of my companions and shrug. “I just don’t like to wait,” I explain as the waitress retreats. Everyone hoots in appreciation, except for Courtney, who silently mouths thanks at me.
Yeah, you’re welcome. Because that waitress is SO spitting in my next cocktail.
Our conference ends without incident and we head home to Chicago. Fletch will pick Courtney and me up from O’Hare. Even though we’ve been together forever, he still voluntarily does the airport run, and if that’s not a true sign of love, I don’t know what is. Except maybe a princess-cut Tiffany engagement ring…
Actually, our not being engaged is my fault. I keep upping the ante on the cut, color, clarity, and carat that I require, and I think he’s afraid to price rings. Yes, he’s successful, but I doubt that Bill Gates could keep me in the kind of jewelry that I want. Besides, a ceremony isn’t necessary for him to prove his feelings to me, especially since we have a very expensive apartment to support.
OK, I will admit the idea of a big Michigan Avenue production, complete with all my sorority sisters in hideous matching satin dresses, 20 a scrillion yellow tulips tied with pink-and-mint-plaid ribbons, and a big
Anyway, I’d thought I’d nipped yesterday’s infidelity in the bud, but Courtney and Chad have been pounding beer today and have completely lost their inhibitions. Right now they’re snuggled up in a sheltered corner of the boat and— are they heavy petting ? Fortunately, the way we’re all sitting, I’m the only one who can see them.
Though it’s probably none of my business, I’m pissed because Courtney’s fiancé, Brad, is such a nice guy. He worships her. Sometimes we do couple stuff together and that obligates me to protect him. Hell, he took her to Hawaii two weeks ago, and she didn’t get back until right before we left for Florida. I doubt his credit card statements have come yet. Besides, her slutty behavior makes the whole Chicago office look bad. 19 Their mashing gets more heated. I see tongue. Ugh. I stand on my chair and shout, “ WAITRESS! DRINKS! NOW!”
Oh, Court, just because you look like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct doesn’t give you license to act like her. C’mon, guys, these are your coworkers and this graphic public display of affection is both embarrassing and unprofessional, and…wait a second— Courtney, W HERE DID YOUR HAND JUST GO?
GAH! This is a company function and in broad daylight, you are giving Chad a—
The waitress returns with beverages at this exact moment. I can tell from the look on her face that A) she also witnessed Courtney’s busy hands and B) she’s utterly mortified. Bad touch! The rest of our group notices the waitress’ discomfort and cranes to see what she’s gawping at.
For God’s sake, now I’m going to have to something noble to distract everyone from Courtney and Chad and what looks like the beginning of a porno movie. And chivalry is SO not my style.
“Hey!” I bark so abruptly that the server almost drops all the drinks she’s carrying. It’s also loud enough to bring Ron Jeremy and Jenna Jameson to their senses. Everyone looks at me while the horn dogs pull themselves apart.
I yank a crisp hundred-dollar bill out of my coordinating floral Kate Spade wallet and smack it on the waitress’ tray. “Next time, could you please serve our drinks a little faster?” I tap the face of my TAG Heuer watch while my enormous Lagos Caviar jeweled ring catches the light. “The clock is ticking, you know.”
Her eyes narrow, but she accepts the tip. White lipped, she tucks my Benjamin into her cargo shorts while glaring hot-red death at me. But I had to divert everyone’s attention somehow, right? Had I been thinking, I would have yelled, “Shark!”
I arrange a smirk on my face for the benefit of my companions and shrug. “I just don’t like to wait,” I explain as the waitress retreats. Everyone hoots in appreciation, except for Courtney, who silently mouths thanks at me.
Yeah, you’re welcome. Because that waitress is SO spitting in my next cocktail.
Our conference ends without incident and we head home to Chicago. Fletch will pick Courtney and me up from O’Hare. Even though we’ve been together forever, he still voluntarily does the airport run, and if that’s not a true sign of love, I don’t know what is. Except maybe a princess-cut Tiffany engagement ring…
Actually, our not being engaged is my fault. I keep upping the ante on the cut, color, clarity, and carat that I require, and I think he’s afraid to price rings. Yes, he’s successful, but I doubt that Bill Gates could keep me in the kind of jewelry that I want. Besides, a ceremony isn’t necessary for him to prove his feelings to me, especially since we have a very expensive apartment to support.
OK, I will admit the idea of a big Michigan Avenue production, complete with all my sorority sisters in hideous matching satin dresses, 20 a scrillion yellow tulips tied with pink-and-mint-plaid ribbons, and a big
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