I think I threw up in my mouth a little

Just moments ago I overheard co-workers of mine discussing a former co-worker of ours, one I never really liked while she was here and whose decision not to come back to work after giving birth thrilled me.

This person drove me crazy while she was working here. She would have me work on marketing materials without any clear idea in her head as to what she wanted exactly. I would come back with one idea after another and she would have a different, vaguely worded response each time, and eventually I got chastised by my superiors for having to go through so many drafts because that dumb cunt couldn't communicate or even formulate in her own blonde brain what the fuck she wanted. Work got a lot easier after she left.

Anyone could tell just by looking at her that she wasn't long for the workaday world, and was bred to be the iconic lazy suburban mom. She had a rich husband, of course; I'm fairly certain he was a physician or surgeon or in some other medical occupation that pays a ludicrously inflated salary. She went the traditional route of working a white-collar job for a little while until fulfilling her life's ambition of getting knocked up, then quit her job after squeezing a little raison d'etre out of her twat and sitting on her ass for a couple months afterward collecting maternity leave paychecks while a nanny did the real work. So my co-workers' most recent discussion amongst themselves brought up details that didn't surprise me in the least. It seems she has achieved the highest honor for a lazy, spoiled suburban mom by becoming president of the local Junior League, a social club for the female scumbags of the privileged class. Women who have rich husbands to support their offspring and other little hobbies join the Junior League so that they can put on sundresses and straw hats, drink wine together, and cluck about how damned terrific their children and dogs are while pretending to perform charitable work so that they can feel good about themselves. These same creatures will drive their $60,000 cars to an antiques shop and try to get the shopkeeper to take half off, I guess so that they can save their husbands' money for more wine. I about wanted to vomit and start throwing things when they were talking about her two children and her Labs—a breed of dog which is cute and dumb and therefore popular with mindless rich people.

I do not deny that my contempt for these cretins is partly fueled by envy. I've published time and again that I want nothing more than to retire and do whatever the fuck I feel like every day. I think what really bothers about them me is their lack of usefulness to society combined with their parasitic nature. While I desire to be endowed with a lifetime supply of money for which no single person had to work very hard, their goal in life is to reproduce and hang out with friends who have also reproduced, which requires no specialized skill or education and any moron with functional genitals can do, while parasitically deriving their sustenance from host animals (their husbands) without returning anything except possibly bland missionary-style intercourse a couple times a month or whenever they are given jewelry. While I simply wish to quit working and live off of lottery winnings and interest, they go beyond forgivable indolence and make another person work to support them, which is why we can only conclude that Junior League bitches are evil.