Networking event today. First month in my new job. Was totally expected to smile and nod and ooh and aah at our clients, and apparently, layer it with a slice of oohlala on top. Oh yes, because apparently, having a French passport means that it is in my job description to play the silly foreigner at corporate events.
Nevermind.
5.30pm and I was gone with the farty wind, straight through a private booth, venting my frustrations through an intense, musical booty call.
Hello, my name is Belle de Basse-Cour, and I am a Consultant. Who is Constipated.
Yeah, that'll teach them to serve a wheat ladden buffet lunch to a corporate event.
I got my arse kicked by wheat. Literally.
Fart my life.
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