I hate clothes

(Warning! This entry is rated PG-13 for language and obscene references. Allegations of whatever scandal would not be authorised under formal jurisdiction.)

Just outside bathroom, 0150 hour

I took a very late bath because I was accidentally too damn preoccupied with countless chapters of D.gray-man fanfictions until I forgot that I was all stinky and sweaty from one whole day of doing nothing notable again. Anyway, after having myself dried with towel and as I was putting on the top piece of clothing (shirt), I encountered this same old frequent predicament; I ran out of sleeping underpants and pyjamas pants... again! Shit. Immediately I interpreted that the house's imbecilic maid must be slacking. Weird people's cupboard like mine in which the total pairs of clothes in it equals to that in the luggage of a traveler on one-week vacation, requires constant update of clothings otherwise I would have ended up in the situation I was in just now. Being the impatient easily-provoked type, I felt like firing her and sending her ass straight balik kampung but all know I could not do that for various reasons so I have left no choice but to continue habouring all-out hatred towards all fucking immigrant dipshits that I discriminately hate so much. And to make even the devils laugh at my fate, everybody had to be dead sleeping like pig at this time of the night. I simply cannot go knocking at said imbecile's door like I usually do yelling, "hey you, I need ragged underpants and bottom pyjamas now!" My mom would nag at me. My dad would beat the crap out of me. My maid would spike my foods and drinks. Fucking maids in this country have fucking bullshit rights that allow them to whine to the world like bitches if they are self-assumingly abused physically, mentally, sexually, imaginably, etc. When those people start to get bitchy, only tiresome troubles ensue. The accused would have to go to court and bla bla bla some dramatic crying stories and graphics in newspapers... Maids these days are also exposed to too much television drama.

Even though I knew this attempt was most likely futile, I went downstairs hoping to get some pants regardless. There was a slim chance that this maid of mine was actually smart enough to realise that I might ran out of pants today and leave my ragged pants outside and not sleep with them. So if anyone has access to my house's CCTV data, he or she could see me walking around the house scandalously in towel.

Confirmed. No pants for tonight. Indonesian maid was stupid down-to-earth.

Great. I have to miserably put up with uncomfortable shorts and outgoing panties tonight. (Do not ask. I think my family has this custom to wear tattered clothes at home and reserve the good-conditioned ones for outgoing activities. Torn clothes = comfortable not-on-market clothes) Tomorrow I swear I will retaliate by working some slave unlucky enough to piss the almighty me at the wrong time to death. Maybe I will start with asking her to scrub the bathrooms with toothbrush..... *grins evilly*