Reasons why I fucking hate the maid.

I asked and reminded her on Friday, Saturday AND Sunday to wash the new Mango Skirt I had bought. She told me she had washed them.

THIS MORNING, I asked her if my skirt was dry. She told me the skirt was in the cupboard.

I TOOK THE SKIRT OUT AND IT WAS UNWASHED, WITH THE FUCKING PRICE TAG STILL INTACT!

I asked her why it was so and GUESS what she fucking told me?!

"YOU TOLD ME NOT TO WASH THE SKIRT."

KNNCCB *Expletives*

Nahbeh.

I FUCKING TOLD HER THREE FUCKING TIMES IN HER FACE AND YET SHE DARED TO TELL ME THAT I'D TOLD HER NOT TO WASH IT?!

FUCK.

And as if it wasn't enough to stink up my fucking morning, she had the fucking cheek to dump a fucking piece of plain bread in my lunchbox as 'Breakfast'.

*More expletives*

IF SHE, HERSELF, DOESN'T EVEN EAT PLAIN BREAD FOR BREAKFAST, WHY THE FUCK WOULD I EAT PLAIN BREAD?!

NAHBEH.

And the worst shit was that it had to fucking pour in the morning and I had to cab all the way to work.

KNNCCB.

IT'S OKAY TO BE FAT WHEN YOU BOTHER TO PULL YOUR BLOODY WEIGHT AROUND.
If not, you're just waiting for stones to be lobbed at you.