I’m starving. I haven’t eaten for the past 24 hours. How long can I go? Geecharpjook (congee with random pork organs) is calling me. I wish I had a slave who can tarpao me food, with his own money.
I feel guilty. I slept for 15 hours instead of starting on my assignment. Prior to that, I blog-hopped for half a day. I wish I had a slave who could churn out a slaparse paper for me.
I’m unbelievably bored. I’m too lazy to drive out. Ideally, this slave would drive me around in his Porsche Carrera.
I need some retail therapy. My slave would make a timely stop by La Senza and wait for me with his big bag of RM100 notes (credit cards are for poor people) while I pick every lingerie in the house that had me beguiled since it started operation here.
Most importantly, my slave would never talk. I would, however, allow him to fart as I’m a madam who cares for the wellbeing of her slaves.