Today I have ultimate bitches for clients.

It makes me wonder. Do some people really assume that once they’re all geared up in those power suits and impossibly perfect hair, they can simply anticipate a level of respect meant for Gods or any divine beings? I mean, REALLY…

I don’t fucking care if you drink skinny lattes or double espressos, or if your ridiculous pointy shoes goes better with your undersized bag. I don’t fucking care if your hair products cost more than what I earn a week, or that watch you’re wearing is something I can never afford for myself. I don’t fucking care because they don’t matter to me. All that materialistic and selfish possessions means nothing when you can’t even practice basic courtesy.

Do me a favor.

Go stuff your wads of cash in your nice leather wallets, take a catwalk stroll to your overpriced cars, go for a wild drive and crash yourselves into the biggest tree you see.