B is for Biatch

This is the story of how I outsmarted a Biatch. In fact, I would go so far as to say that she is not a Biatch, she is La Biatch. La Biatch is one of those women you come across every now and then who hates all other women and sees them as competition. As a friend of both NLJ and GD (both male, and both my former flatmates) she was someone I tried to get along with initially, until her biatchiness and exclusion and attempt at snobe-ishness* all got too much.




This is an image of La Biatch. She is the pair of shoes at the front right of the picture.


The final straw was when I heard from LM (another male and therefore someone she liked, even though he didn't like her) that La Biatch was planning a surprise party for NLJ. I waited 3 days for an invitation, and when it didn't arrive I asked NLJ what he was doing the following Saturday (the night of the party). Since it was supposed to be a surprise, he had no idea about it, so he and I planned a wine and cheese night of adult conversation (to counteract the gleefully childish behaviour I had exhibited). Even if La Biatch suspected I had deliberately undermined her plans, she couldn't do anything about it because she would be forced to admit that she had snubbed me on the invitation.
Score? Zosia = 1, La Biatch = nil.


*A difficult term to define, since I just made it up then, but it's worse than snobbishness and a bit like totally try-hard tragic