You all remember my coworker, The Pwincess. Well, she has been talking in Spanish allll goddam day on the phone to goodness knows who—and I am amazed to announce she is bilingually annoying! I can’t understand a word she wisps in her baby voice, till she gets to a phrase like “Babies r Us” or “stroller” or “Sears photos” (I assume she is talking about her new offspring, The Infanta Pwecious).
I have no doubt that she is going to night school and studying to be annoying in three or more languages. Maybe we can teach her Iraqi and she can go overseas to annoy the crap out of Saddam Hussein: “No! No! Please make her stop talking in that cutsey-ootsey baby voice! I’ll give up my weapons of mass destruction—just shut her up!”
I love the Pwincess Pwecious stories. Kinda look forward to them, actually.
Does the Pwincess want a widdle swap acwoss her pwecious face?
Can the Pwincess eat a big poo-poo and die?
Come on, Pwincess…do cutsie talk in Spanish, “Por Favor!”
Just see if you can sort of accidentally crack her on the funny bone with your cast. It takes the steam out of the Pwincess act if you can make them swear like a stevedore.
Reminds me of a girl in knew in highschool who spent, like, four or five weeks in Paris one summer. When she returned to school the next year she had faux accent and was always substituting French words for English and sometime pretended she’d forgotten how to properly parse a sentence.
Well, I’m clearly going to have to catch up on the “Pwincess” chronicles. My evenings set!
. . . No, but I did have a heaping bowl oif Bitch Flakes for breakfast.
It’s not so much the Pwincess’ wisp; I could just imagine she’s Mawlene Dietwich or Fay Fwancis. It’s her babylike sing-songy delivery that’s the coup de grace. Somewhere along the line—I blame her father or an early boyfriend—she got what she wanted by going all sweet and adowable. Now, she severely needs to be bitch-slapped the length and breadth of the hallway.
