I'm the Maid

I consider myself smart...smart enough to realise how far down the VIP list I am...but apparently not smart enough to realise that I'm not even on the fucking list..so now am dejectedly sitting on chair by the desk...actually I'm slouching feet up on the desk because my 'give a fuck'..has standards and it has abandoned me in the wake of my sudden unpopularity...who I'm kidding I was never popular just tolerable..fuckless stewing in humid heat and without coffee...pretty much describes my life pent up hot and in need of stimulation...karma you've either been and worked your morbid punishment or my life is karma enough anymore would be considered cruel.   

perfectly describing my life...a disjointed chaos of terror

 The Evil Alice is small cherub like wench with the artistic flare of Picasso on a shit load of drugs..The Genius is William her selectively smart brother who is on a menstrual cycle of an evil Top Spin...together this sinister duo strives too destroy me...I say destroy their probably thinking my existence is dependent on my usefulness...right now I'm essential like the air or the ozone layer...that thing u dismiss because you believe in your own godly self importance...or is that just me...but you need nonetheless.

Well my usefulness lies in being an unpaid servant come jack of every fucking trade...and that's bloody vital when your incapable of wiping your own arse competently and I was so hoping on hiring them to take care of me in my old age you know so I can bring the cycle of torture full circle.

I take my servitude with grace

I've had my me time interrupted by the insensitive buggers who want lunch (already could have sworn I just threw a cereal box and milk at you)..that's another life skill lacking sandwich making and oven cooking..lets face it not many people actually cook...the old fashioned way like from scratch its a dying art (thank god for progress what I like to call human ingenuity fuelled by laziness)..most of us take out of the freezer and throw into the oven and proceed to forget about till its well done...but its never just right very rarely the universe is on my side..I've convinced them that's how home cooking is supposed to look like slightly burnt to a dark tan colour and crunchy.

Its not burnt its well done

 So anyway I've had to postpone my deep philosophical musing about the weapon of choice in the wake of a zombie apocalypse and what that says about me as a person..its a toss up between an axe and machine gun...I'm guessing the axe would say I have issues that can only be resolved through bloody gore...and the machine gun that I like the thought of doing more damage also I suck at aiming and it doesn't look like I need accuracy just pull and wave well from what I can of films...I probably should have both for when I run out of bullets a back up weapon is always good...I like how my delusional survival chances and my actual realistic survival chances are probably not in sync I blame TV for preparing me for nothing if not death.

In case of zombie apocalypse break out everything

Okay rudely interrupted forced to get up and its hot am in my bikini only because going naked is not an option unless your a nudist and no one is buying my new found Naturalism coinciding with the scorching summer season...slowly trekking in pink polka dot flip flops so my hardship can be heard through out the house...kitchen is hot hence the lost desire to cook anything that doesn't cook itself....even making beans on toast feels like big hassle because that involves too many steps...I want to lie down and die but that would be an unspoken invitation...declaring that the human trampoline is open for bruising ...the best thing about all of this is the cold breeze breathing from the freezer its slight but nice if they could only make walk in freezers for homes I'd hide in it.

Alice is a ninja master proficient in stealth ghost walking

I completely forget why I'm there until The Evil pops up from out of nowhere like a haunting that she is and starts to ask annoying rhetorical questions only she doesn't know what rhetorical is so am required to answer every mind numbing question with 'I don't know'...painful lesson learned ignorance is a grown ups best weapon against an avalanche of bombarding snowballs all filled with questions...trust me knowing something is the equivalent to grave digging and that grave is yours once dug you'll will not be buried in peace...I dig through the freezer for something I haven't burned in awhile...she's talking I'm nodding occasionally mixing in a word or two to maintain the illusion of interest...then The Genius decides to join in the snowball massacre...I'm surrounded by weapons but all I keep thinking is suicide looks painful and requires too much work...everything always boils down to the amount of work I will have to do...being an unpaid underling is draining enough I don't need extra work...I live to be tortured another day.