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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
What happened: So I am at work with one of my fellow coworkers. She is a bit of, well actually a HUGE bitch. She doesn't have any filter between her head (which is probably more screwed up than most) and Her mouth. One day she serves a overweight gentleman, and after He leaves she says to me (I am a bit overweight myself) "Oh my God, He had bigger man boobs that you do"
What I said: Uhhhhhhhhhhh.
What I SHOULD have said: And you have more facial hair then both of us.
The French call it l'esprit d'escalier, "the wit of the staircase," those biting ripostes that are thought of just seconds too late, on the way out of the room-or even, to tell the truth, days later. It's happened to you: you've suddenly thought of just what would put your foe in his or her place, but past the time when the arrow could sting its victim. You've stewed in your own juice ever since, and the chance for singeing repartee is gone forever.
Or is it?
Dorothy Parker or Oscar Wilde may have had the rapier wit to tweak their tormentors on the spot, but for the rest of us, we offer the Internet's only L'esprit d'escalier web site!