Good gravy, am I sick of this woman

There is a middle-aged woman in my office who is the epitome of a washed-up actress and she drives everyone up a wall because she is an insufferable busybody. She openly eavesdrops on private conversations and hovers where she's not wanted. She's the same woman who a couple of weeks ago "overheard" my conversation with the office manager about Kath's show. The reason why she didn't hear it from me directly is because she is the last person on the planet I would invite to ANYTHING remotely drama related. Why? Because when she does turn up to these things, no matter how small or low budget, she insists on getting comped because she's "in the industry" and she offers unsolicited criticism after the show. Simple-minded, niggling snipes from a embittered nothing of a woman. I hate her with all of my might and want nothing more than ill fortune to rain down on her.

The only reason I brought this up is because she made a characteristically snide comment to me about a half hour ago. This older gentleman in the office was wearing the same colored shirt and pants that I had on and he drew attention to it, saying "Hey, we're like brothers! Could you tell the difference if I weren't as old as fuck?" Of course, this woman immediately said "the only difference I see is that your wife ironed your shirt."

Why you miserable bitch. Oh, my shirt's wrinkly is it? Well, so's your face. The trouble is, I can actually iron my shirt if I thought this job really mattered at all. You can't iron your face...though I suppose I could give it a shot for you. Rather clumsily and with great force.

Ugh. I hope she gets a paper cut. In her heart.