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how to be a bitch:

float into the room, wafting expensive perfume and dramatically flounce down your easel and art supplies. immediately pounce sarcastically on a small grammar mistake (the equivalent of a/an) made by a non-native speaker of your minor language. hold onto that grammar mistake like a nasty little growling drop-kick dog with an organic designer artisan dog biscuit, pointedly bringing it up again half an hour later. when the person who made the mistake (and who is tired from being up half the night watching the lunar eclipse and on top of it, in the throes of PMS) doesn't laugh, sarcastically ask if she's "too delicate to take a little teasing." ask as well, "do you have trouble with the full moon?" in some knowing way that just seems weird. refer to your husband as your consort (as if you're the queen).  disparage the large, successful international company that has put your podunk little nothing town on the map, complaining about the tourists they attract and how the town is filled with their offices, theme park, school and museums and worst of all their foreigners (gasp!). (not to mention their airport, and the public sculpture they've provided...) don't be able to take it when the absurdity of complaining about that is pointed out with a genuine out loud laugh. deny that you said anything disparaging about said company and fluff up your feathers, preening about how your consort was instrumental in it all, including the airport. launch into some insider story about the airport using a bunch of obscure acronyms and referring to your consort's private plane. get in one last snide shot at the grammar while also disparaging the non-native speaker's husband (who is clearly helpless if he hasn't managed to eat dinner by himself) and whom you have never met.  appear as a character in my novel. and wish to hell you'd been nicer.

* the g&t photo is because i needed one after that encounter.