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You sigh loudly into the phone so that it makes a crackly, static sound.

"I gotta get going, chica," you whine to Gina.

"Yeah, me too. Call me later, ok? Say hi to Aunt Flo for me."

"Oh, absolutely. I'm sure she'll want to visit you next. Muuuah! Byee!"

"Byeeeee!"

You pout at yourself in the mirror. It is so not a good face day. You wish you could just put a big paper bag over your head and not have to bother with making yourself look like something. But such is the price one must pay for beauty.

With a pained gesture, you reach for your makeup case and fish around until you find your foundation. You spread it carefully over your face, making sure to cover that nasty little patch of acne that sprouted on your forehead last week for absolutely no good reason. You move to a blue eyeliner, which you expertly run along the bottom of your eyelid. Using two shades of shadow in order to "pop" your eyes as Blahsmo puts it, you then powder up your fabulous cheekbones with some peachy-colored bronzer. Your lips barely even need any work because they're naturally plump and oh-so-kissable. Today, however, they're looking a little pale. That damn Aunt Flo just sucks the color right out of you! To combat this, you put on an extra-red color with an extra kick of gloss on top. You lick your upper lip seductively. Purrrrfect!

In a flash, you have your hair up and your oh-so-professional pantsuit on and you're out the door. You look at your watch as the elevator door opens up to the lobby. You only have a few minutes to get to work, and according to Blahsmo, tardiness is No-No Number One for girls looking to get ahead.

Shit! Why is everything in life so hard?

"Good morning!" chimes Yuri the doorman in his barely decipherable English as he holds the door open for you. You just pout back in reply.

Out on the street, you are hit by an overbearing heatwave. Almost immediately, you feel your foundation begin to liquefy on your forehead. You panic as you wonder if the mascara you used was waterproof.

You try desperately to hail a taxi, cursing yourself for not having worn a skirt today, which would have allowed you to "show a little leg", as your grandma always encouraged. Finally, one pulls over.

In a few minutes, you are sitting at your desk at Blargman & Bungler, having made it in just at the stroke of nine. You're bored already and you haven't even begun the day yet. Everyone here knows that the only reason you got this job in the first place is because your daddy is a bigshot in the Atlanta office. So what if he is? You can't be blamed for your good connections. Your job description is nondescript, but has the words "assistant", "manager" and "accounts" in it. Translation: you can do whatever the hell you want as long as you do the bare minimum. Your daddy plus your new shoes plus your punctuality may get you a promotion in a few weeks when they fill the position with the words "manager" and "accounts" in it, minus the "assistant" part.

You have at least two hours in the morning to please yourself before you need to finish a little bit of paperwork. You have discovered that this boring office is actually full of entertaining activities for a girl like you.

To start off the day, you willÂ…