Grin and bear this.

One day, I'm not going to be a good sport. I won't turn the other cheek or keep the peace. When you come out with some ridiculous bullshit and expect me to go along with it, I'll shock the hell out of you by refusing, and not politely. I won't smile sweetly or engage in severe cognitive dissonance just to maintain the status quo. I'll tell you exactly what I think, not just of the situation and your suggestion relating to it, but what I think of you, as well. Someone should tell you. Someone should tell you what a spoiled, self-centered brat you are. Someone should tell you that your carefully acquired "slumming" mannerisms don't hide your bred-in-the-bone snobbery. Someone should call you out on the shitty way you treat people. In fact, everyone should treat you equally as badly for a few months, just so you can get a taste of it. For all your ambition, you're never going to get anywhere. You're one-dimensional, uncreative, and impossible to get along with. I hope I'm there the day you give up. I can't wait to see the look on your face.
Guitardbot accuses me of being punk rock, even when I don't know the name of the band Johnny Rotten had after the Sex Pistols. He's mistaken. If I was really punk rock, I wouldn't be this much of pushover. I wouldn't be scared to tell people when they were acting like assholes. A true punk rock girl would flip someone off for suggesting that she bend over backwards to accommodate everyone else, and if they asked her more than once, she'd spit in their face. She wouldn't acquiesce as a matter of course, seething silently all the while.
Iphy: easy to work with.
Iphy: totally flexible and prepared to work to everyone else's schedule.
Iphy: never a diva or a drama queen or overly demanding.
Iphy: just give her a steady supply of Diet Coke and the occasional trip to Wal-Mart and she's happy as a clam.
Iphy: low maintenance.
Iphy: silly, flakey, crazy, cranky, tardy Iphy, who can't ever request or suggest anything because she's a walking joke.
Iphy: if you want to make a really outrageous request or subtly insult someone, go see Iphy, because there's no way in hell she'll put up any kind of a fight.
Iphy: aren't you glad you're not her?
I hope I'm reincarnated as a necrotizing fascitis bacteria. It's pretty hard to get along with something that's actively eating away at your flesh and making you look like an extra from a George Romero film.