Heems, our art director, who's probably in her early 20s, IMs me, bitching about how the company that's supposed to be on our cover hasn't gotten back to her.
"fuck him" I write back.
"fuck him in the ass."
She types, "You seem to be in about as good a mood as me."
"yah, i've been more grumbly lately," i write.
"i'm turning into a crotchety old man."
"What does that make me?" Heems wants to know.
I respond: "a bitch."
Heems is laughing so hard she's crying.
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