I’ve just finished reading The Devil Wears Prada and boy was it the best book I’ve picked up in ages.

Andrea finally told her slave owner of a boss, Miranda Priestley, in the midst of a fashion show in Paris, “Fuck you Miranda. Fuck you,” Her career was about to have an upheaval but she let it all go by saying that to Miranda. She got terminated, but had finally spoken up for the torment she was subjected to under the Miranda Regime-constant belittling and verbal abuse. Hell, in other words…

This feeling the need to stand up for myself (I happen to be tremendously good at doing that…) and the question of “Why do I work so hard to the extent that my rights as a person are fringing on the brink of compromise?” keeps reverberating in my mind. It’s just so pertinent and poignant to me at this point of time. “Is it worth it?” I constantly ask myself in an attempt to stay real (quote: the very annoying Jenny from the Block).

I had a quarrel with somebody today. Finally, I’ve figured out that a mean bitch like me always wins verbal disputes anyway. Today’s was less vile and abusive on my part as I only used the F-word once. And yes, I must add, everything and everyone gets dragged down in a tiff with yours truly. No holds are barred and are parents never spared (going out to filial cheena goody goody boys who see parents as the Buddha or something and choose to step on my tail…It’s their fault of bringing you twit into this world anyway so they’re to blame too…but that doesn’t make you any better still…twit…), so anyone trying to rub me up the wrong way better be prepared. Also, I see that F-word as nothing more than a……word.