God forbid I see this woman outside of work...

Dear fat, self-important wretch,

At the end of last week my boss asked me to schedule a Marketing Committee meeting for the week of April 10. In an attempt to get a head-start on this assignment, I decided to take my work home for the weekend and contact everyone on this committee to work out everybody's schedules, hoping that I could have the meeting scheduled by early this week.

Now, please don't get me wrong, you overweight and ill-mannered horse's ass. I get that you are the president of a local PR firm and are incredibly important and are busy having all your little yuppie, J.Crew-wearing, my-daddy-got-me-this-internship-and-my-BMW-SUV-for-my-graduation-present, minions do all your footwork for you. I get it. Therefore, I didn't find offense to the fact that, even though I gave you over three days to respond to my initial request, you couldn't find 5 seconds in your - I'm sure - tragically busy and obnoxious life to tell me when you would be available that week.

However, I did take offense to the fact that when, on the fourth day after my initial request, I followed up with everyone and offered some possible meeting times -- and, yes, I did suggest a lunch meeting because it was requested by one of the more agreeable committee members who, make no mistake, are just as busy and important as you are, you miserable hag*, and yet, did find a way to return my request -- you magically found a few minutes in your otherwise pathetic existence to shoot me back this caustic gem of an email:

"Do you really, really think that {Marketing Committee member} and {another Marketing Committee member} have a lunch hour to give up to come to this meeting? Answer this question for me: What exactly do you even expect the Marketing Committee to accomplish at this meeting? Specifically."

Oh, where do I begin, you hateful cow? I was only doing what I was asked to do, snatch. Schedule this f*ing meeting. A meeting for this Marketing Committee which, I guess I need to remind you, you are THE CHAIRPERSON OF. So, instead of bullying me out of self-hatred because my waist happens to be the size of one of your ghastly white, non-excercised thighs, perhaps you need to figure out why the hell you - the supposed chair of this committee - don't have an f*ing idea about what this meeting is supposed to be about. And do I even need to mention that - had you taken just ten seconds from shoving Ring Dings down your throat and made an attempt to contact me initally to tell me that you would prefer not to meet at lunchtime - I understand having this hour to have your little trolls fetch your meal and handfeed it to you is very precious - I would have made an effort to work around it, you horrible cow.

In short, I have just one request: for your own sake, before you step foot within a fifty-foot radius of me ever again, please make an attempt to get your enormous head out of your ass and learn some basic common human decency. And remember: you must learn to love yourself before you can love others. So get to the gym.

Hugs and kisses,
Ysabel



* I originally called you something worse here, but my sweet mother - who is a better person than I - asked that I change it. However, she did like that I called you a cow. So there.