Who cares if she toiled six hundred years ago in the mountains of present day Peru and was sacrificed in the tomb of her mummified mistress? I know I don't. Not. At. All.
I look at that photo, and all I see is a genuine, grade-A drama queen. And she wasn't even a real queen, that beeotch was the maid.
Can you believe that? You don't see Naomi Campbell's maids acting like a crazy fool and screaming and covering their faces from cell phones and ritual daggers. Do you?
Hells to the no. They sue, but they don't embarrass themselves. I mean sure, mummy-maid's wrists are tied (and she's being stabbed to death) but baby, I gots to file my taxes and (in addition to everything else going crazy in my life - see below) just found out that me and my man have to move out of our apartment in May. In May!
Yes. Our beautiful Clinton Hill apartment is being sold by our landlords. Thank you very much, outrageous finders fee. I'm sooooooo happy that we paid all that money to secure a lease for only fifteen months. <-- and yes that's sarcasm. I'm not happy about it at all. Not. At. All.
But you don't see me making a fool of myself.
I'd be mortified (actually, I guess I would be) if future archaeologists dug up my bones to find me all screaming and pitching a fit. Puhleez, lady. You were a maid six hundred years ago. Doesn't it go without saying you're going to die tied up and poked with a dagger? She should have come to peace with that employment clause the first week on the job.
Tied up and sacrificed in honor of your boss may suck, but having to stick around til 3:30 on a 2 o'clock early close Friday sucks pretty hard too. Happy long weekend, ya'll!