Brunette Barbie Doll
by James MacLaren
This one falls under several more generalized headings, the two most important being Aging Prom Queen, and Moneyed Bitch.
Tight little smile. Never comes out and actually says she thinks you’re vermin, but her body language exudes it from every pore of her reconditioned skin. The closer she gets to you (and of course to conduct a business transaction she’s gotta come within arm’s reach), the more she acts like she’s approaching a dog that’s been dead on the side of the road too long.
Drives an expensive car and overdresses. Wishes she was in New York City. Can’t understand why she’s not Donald Trump’s latest acquisition, and has copped a major attitude because of it.
Pitches ridiculous bitch fits over the most trivial irritations. If the credit card reader (she NEVER pays cash, money is dirty and even worse, you just touched it) is a little slow in approving her gold (or platinum or osmium or whatever the fuck ultraprecious metal fucking plastic she’s wringing out this week) card, the whole company is fucked up, nothing works, somebody ought to DO something about this and perhaps the sun is going to explode.
My guess is that this one simply GUSHES when in the presence of guys wearing Rolex watches and three piece suits, but since I avoid that crowd like the plague, I’m not entirely sure. When she’s out with the common folk, she does her utmost to let them know that she’s not one of them.
What she’s like at home, I can’t imagine. But I’m sure it’s no fun for anybody. Her kids are probably drug addicts and her husband cheats on her.
She deserves it.
Fuck off, asshole.
