Tadpole Says:

And If I Push This Button... A Story Of Stupidity

2009-10-29T16:05:00.000-07:00

We just began renovations in our hotel, for which we are all very excited. If not for the process, at least for the new digs. Amazingly and yet much to my chagrin, we people of the desk have been temporarily relocated to the bar, and the bar in no way has ceased operation. A large, white wall has been built to cover the old front desk while it's being demolished and re-constructed. This, however, doesn't discourage people from standing in front of it perplexed, looking for the front desk staff, who readily wave their hands and yell "yoo-hoo!" from 40ft in the distance.

One such lady who was checking in, bless her soul... The poor imbecile, trots to the bar/front desk happily and half-embarrassed. I explain, feeling a little sad for this stupid woman, that we will be at the bar for the next 6 weeks, due to the hotel renovation that we are currently undergoing.

At this point in the story I should mention that our GM has put up a digital picture frame right in front of the computers where the guests check in. It's the kind of frame that does the slide show, and in it we are displaying the photos of how the hotel will look after the renovation is done. One of the photos features our business center which boasts a large sign that reads "BOARDING PASS" above the computers.

Apparently, when Poor Imbecile looks at the digital frame that precise picture was on the screen because she cheerfully asks "Oh, I can print my boarding pass from here? If I push this button?".

And I guess it could have looked like a button... If you were drunk, and maybe high on prozac.

Men Everywhere Need To Straighten This Mess Up

2009-10-20T18:24:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday To Me . . .

2009-08-26T18:39:00.000-07:00

I spent this last Monday the 24th of August saying goodbye to my youth through bitter tears. Luckily for me I also spent it with most of my acquaintances welcoming me to the "Quarter Century Club". It goes without saying that these are people who have jumped the hurdle of youth and into the cliff of despair that is being 25 and up.

Amongst these people was Zuzka, my Czech boss, whom I adore; My charmingly deranged, blond sister Lori, who loves me (enough said!); The lovely Black Man, who I assure myself each day is the man I love; And of course Cara-Face! I've just dropped in to share the pictures of the festivities.

(Are we going for captions? Yea? Ok we're going for captions. Just a little. Ok, no.)

Id like to also take this opportunity to say Happy Birthday to my sister Lori, who's day of birth is frighteningly close to mine. In case you were wondering what a bad sister does to celebrate a birthday, here it is. I baked her an outrageously fattening double chocolate cake, dowsed in ganache icing, and then I watched her eat it. I also gave her feathers. Yes. Feathers! It pleasures me to tell you this: She took the bait.

1/4 Century

2009-08-23T15:25:00.000-07:00

Turning 25

This is it, my last day as a supple, fresh and young 24-year-old. Tomorrow, I will be hurling myself downhill towards the pasty dry flesh, bad hearing, hip-breaking, youth-sucking hole that is the big two-five. 25 years of life experiences which have yielded nothing but confusion and depression as opposed to knowledge and order. [Insert bit about men here: I understand nothing about men. I’d like to believe that you are not the simple creatures you proclaim to be, because if you are then I’d have to say that you are simply lazy, self-righteous, underachieving cheaters. Burn! Ok, ok... Not all of you, so pipe down.]

This morning I had a lesson given to me by a small Ethiopian lady in the form of pancakes. And for us to extract all the richness of the lesson unfortunately I’m gonna have to go into detail. So the story is that I wanted to have a 24th year commemorative pancake breakfast. Last meal-ish kind of thing. I had been thinking about it for a few days, and so I arranged with Mulu, our expert breakfast cook, to make some for me. I had helped her out the previous day so it was sort of a ‘thank you’ arrangement.

To make the long story short, I wanted pancakes. But Mulu decided to surprise me by putting a little extra something inside of them. I hadn’t seen what that something was, but I didn’t think it would completely alter the purpose of pancakes so I went for the jugular with some syrup and butter. Much to my anguish, when I come back to my breakfast, I discover that from the delicious dream of fluffy, buttery, sweet pancakes had emerged a doubly fattening, cheese drenched, two-hammed, egged-out monstrosity. I was disillusioned over the fact that I had to readjust my palate, but hungry enough to decide to eat the pancake sandwich anyway. And so I put the syrup down. And I have to say that if we, as humans, gauged taste with how fast you feel your arteries clogging up, I’d have to say that the aforementioned sandwich was succulent.

But thru the entire roller coaster that it was to want pancakes, to expect pancakes, get pancakes-but-not-really, to getting something equally delicious-but-in-a-whole-other-playing-field, I learned something: This is life! Bad surprises, promises warped in the mind of an Ethiopian lady who clearly has too much time on her hands. But I guess it’s how you handle it. Although it may not be what you wanted you try it anyway, find it to be delicious if not incredibly fattening, and in the end it all goes to the wrong places ANYWAY!

Song Of The Month

2009-08-13T08:11:00.000-07:00

Whenever I can't get a song out of my head, I have to listen to it a good number of times so that I may stop humming it and singing it at work and thus, driving my co-workers blind with rage.

So join me, listen to the song, and help me end my obsession.

Annie Hardy of Giant Drag singing Drugs.

Oh, right. The clips are taken from a 70's movie which features Al Pacino and that girl from The Exorcist. The movie is called Panic In Needle Park. And yes, it's about drug users. Also, I have nothing to with the putting-together of these clips. Some dude from youtube did it. I'm just sharing.

My money's on the hawk

2009-08-06T07:49:00.001-07:00

A grounded hawk may be in trouble, but a cat doesn't stand a bleeping chance if the hawk is in the air. Say buh-bye pussy cat!

We're All Winners In This War Of Hate

2009-07-05T06:45:00.000-07:00

Uh, let's see. PTO-ians, "Elite" Members, people who pay in cash, what do they all have in common? They all piss me off and I would like to see them barefoot on the pavement on a hot summer day at high-noon. And yes, occassionally they all gather in one place [ie. lobby] at once and produce mass hysteria, which of course, as you two know, gets my hamsters' wheels turning inside my head.

As fate would have it, weekends for me at the hotel are astronomically disastrous. In fact I like to call them Legendary Saturdays. As a general rule of thumb, as long as I'm working a weekend morning it is bound to rain hell, blood and guts all over me. I'm no Bjork, but I've seen it all! It's not so much that the hotel is packed to capacity, because in fact, it tends to have less people during this time. But, oh my, what people they are! They reek of bargain-hunting.

Oddly enough Legendary Saturdays are not confined or restricted to weekends and thus can happen any day of the week. To describe this sort of day, I find my friend Murphy to be far more eloquent than me. Most of Murphy's sinister laws were apparently molded to conform the behaviour or situation of a bad day in a hotel. What? I didn't know Murphy worked in a hotel!
These are all true, and they most certainly do apply.

Variety of Murphy's Laws:

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.
If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.
Friendly fire - isn't.
If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which something can go wrong, then a fifth way, unprepared for, will promptly develop.
Teamwork is essential; it gives the enemy other people to shoot at.
Try to look unimportant; the enemy may be low on ammo and not want to waste a bullet on you.

Everyone Can Thank Kat Von Bitch For This...

2009-06-18T11:38:00.000-07:00

That's all I got to say! And that she's obviously lying.

Kimberley Vlaminck

http://www.geekologie.com/2009/06/star_face_girl_asks_for_3_star.php

How Much Fun Is This?!

2009-05-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know. It's probably a block-head idea to TP your supervisors car. But what better way to say, "Hey Face. We love you. Thank you for being YOU"?

Don't Trust The Grass . . . That's Where They Sleep

2009-03-30T05:28:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows. And whoever doesn't is about to find out. I don't like worms.

And I feel even THAT may be a bit of an understatement. I absolutely and positively loathe worms. Any worm? Yes. But more specifically, earthworms. Gag!

Call it a phobia, call me a wuss, call me being insensitive to the Good Lords creation. I don't care. They are nasty and vile. My disgust is such that the very thought of even killing one is enough to make me bend forward and expose my lunch on somebody's shoes.

Maybe it's that burning memory of a younger cousin chompin' down on a tiny black worm while it was still alive. (I'm feeling nauseous already...) Or maybe it was that story that I was forced to read as a single-digit grader, about a boy who's friends dare him to eat worms, and then he eventually LOVES to eat them. That story is just devastating for a child, let me tell ya'. Whatever it was, it scarred me... For life.

Living with a disabilty is not easy. Looking like a fool when it's pouring, trying to avoid worms, and squealing every time I spot one writhing and slithering and drowning. (For some reason I must always cover my mouth with my hand as tightly as possible when I see one.) Having your boyfriend give you the look of death when you scream just because "IT'S MOVING!".

And you know who makes it worse? Maury Povich!

Yea, that's right! I said it!

Maury Povich is the most horrible human being in the mother effin' Milky Way. Why? Because he gives retards like me FALSE HOPE!

I'm sure you've seen the show. People with "bizarre" phobias. A dude who can't bear the sight of peaches. A lady who runs away from cotton... All examples taken directly from MP episodes, most of which you can find on youtube. I'm not saying or even suggesting that these people actually had or didn't have the phobias, but as a person who can understand their range of exaggerated reactions, I can certainly relate. What I cannot relate to is the fact that this man, this apparent "saviour", claims to be able to, thru professional therapy, cure these people permanently from their respective phobias... In 30 minutes! And how do the experts claim to "cure" these people? By exposing them repeatedly to the element that sparks their fear.

Whoa! Whoa! Wait a minute! I've been exposed to worms... Repeatedly... For over 30 minutes... No professionl therapy, but exposed nonetheless. And if I've ever been cured of something when I see a worm is a twisted ankle, 'cus believe you me, I will run and skip and dive to the safety of my apartment in a heartbeat. For the love of cheese, I've made death threats! Not only that, but looking back, I can honestly say that I would've unremorsefully done so... had it come to a worm and it's non-porous, shiny, disgusting band of friends.

MAke WAy for....

2009-03-03T17:16:00.000-08:00

ME, bREAKErHiGh! Coming soon to Tadpole Says... (stay tuned).

NEWSFLASH: The Fuckin' World Officially Sucks

2009-03-02T21:42:00.000-08:00

Fuck this world! Yep, fuck it! This time I mean it. Except the animals. The animals are cool, man. And my family. My family is the best. But everyone else, I have a little something to say to you.

You are all part of the "axis of evil" that Bush-shmush was talking about. I don't care who you are or where you're from. The planet is dying, the economy has gone up Shit Creek, and social networks, pfft, don't even get me started on those. How can it be social if you're typing into a box full of metal scraps and electricity? (I may be contradicting myself here, bear with me. Let's face it, this blog is a joke and the only way that I would be communicating with anyone through it would be to slit my wrists, use my blood to write "tadpolesays made me do it" on my stomach and then throw myself off the Empire State Building for everyone to see.)

MEN, or should I say MAN, provided that there's only one of you reading this. [Shout-out to I-browz] Men, let me tell you something. You will never be happy. Let me repeat that. MEN, YOU WILL NEVER, EVER, EVER BE HAPPY. For as long as you live, or as hard as you try. Why?

You will never be satisfied with the woman that you have by your side. You can be the ugliest mo-fo in this entire world and if you have Kate Beckinsale as your girl, trust me, you'll fuck that up. On the other hand, if you have Jane Schmo, she's not that bangin', but she loves you... Start saying your good-byes, 'cause you're gonna mess that one up too.

"She's too fit/She's too fat. She doesn't drink beer/She's an alcoholic. She never wants to cuddle/She's a sex-maniac. She talks too much/She doesn't communicate with me. She's too argumentative/She always says 'yes' to my needs. She's too clingy/She's too independent". Point is, you wouldn't know what's good for you if you had to gestate it for 9 months and then give birth to it. And then you have the indecency to say "It's not you, it's ME". Like we don't already fuckin' know. You bet your grand mama's house it ain't US.

Now WOMEN on the other hand you will never make a man happy. SEE MEN. They are virtually unsatisfiable. So you might as well have the time of you life with one that hasn't broken down yet. It's hard to let go when they do, though. This, however, doesn't give you free allowance to be acting like a bitch. You remember when being bitchy was cute?

"Oh, he does what I tell him to. Go get me popcorn! Hee hee." Well guess what? Those days are long and gone. You can't get away with that shit anymore. You're not young and bubbly. Actually you've gone quite flat.

It's time you start to treat a man like an individual and not an extension of yourself. He's not your pinky toe or your dog. So stop being a cunt and give him some respect or he's gonna find it somewhere else. That, among other things. I wonder who you will blame when you realize that all those insults and de-humanizing attitude towards him drove him into someone else's arms.

And You STILL Wonder What I Mean. . .

2009-02-15T18:38:00.001-08:00

This is one of the reasons why I think technology for the masses is a bigger waste of time than putting an ashtray on a motorcycle.

People (useless ones) have the the ability to send other people (who are busy with important shit) things like this from one cellphone to another:

Everybody, gang, I'd like you all to meet Gus. You can thank him later for the nightmares.

Holy Shit, I'm Late . . .

2009-01-11T07:04:00.000-08:00

. . . For my own blogs birthday!
(What? You thought I was...? Hah! Funny...)

I believe at some point of December of 2008 my "little-blog-that-couldn't" turned one years old!

Can you imagine? One year of ago I put all my hope and enthusiasm into creating a blog that would unite sadists and sarcasts everywhere in the 22314 zip code and within a 10-mile radius. One year of false hope and destroyed expectations.

A vision that Jubble-U associates would feel relieved upon knowing the fact that another associate's self-esteem was getting bludgeoned by a guest at the same time.

For this not special anniversary edition I will update one of the stories that severly marked my life. An excerpt from that post:

Twenty minutes after their 'huff-n-puff' departure, they called our hotel demanding directions after they made a wrong turn. And if you guessed that it was me who answered this bitch's call, then you get the point of this blog! Ranting on and on about "this" being "fuckin' ridiculous" and "a joke", she barely paid attention to my questions as I was trying to locate her sorry-white-trash-ass-family in their sorry-white-trash-vehicle. I asked them to stop the car and give me a the name of a shop, I asked them to give me a street name, I asked them about a specific, larger-than-life hill that they would definitely remember going up on. She didn't give me any worthy information. Am I dragging on too long? Am I getting my point across? Well I'm glad you noticed, because Mrs. Smith didn't get it. After she announced she was seeing a "green car wash at Kingstowne, please tell me I'm headed in the right direction." She wasn't.

Funny story, really. It gets worse, though. Two weeks later I tried to celebrate my 24th year on this god-forsaken planet. And if you consider "celebrating" as blowing chunks on the bathroom floor, then I had a blast. Quite graphically.

And now for the update, and this is completely true as reported from my spies . . . As it turns out, the family actually made it to the other property. The lady was in TEARS! Booyah!

Nobody calls me 'fuckin' stupid' and gets away with it!

You're 20-what Now?

2008-12-20T12:51:00.000-08:00

Happy be-lated 20-something birthday, Cesar!!!!

A night out to Hunan and Bailey's can be so destructive for the human being...

Heavy drinking and 7-Eleven cupcakes!

What more could you ask for?

(No, she wasn't interested. Either of them. We tried...)

¿Dónde está Debbie? Debbie Está Down...

2008-12-19T08:29:00.000-08:00

Before I begin, I'd just like to say I DO NOT BLAME OBAMA.

What I'd like to know is when did everything turn to shit. I'm fuckin' serious! Who took my hatred and my optimist-pessimism and turn it into acute depression? Was it you, you fuckin' guests? No, it couldn't possibly be. I ignore you. Everything you say. It's true that you often blow my last nerve and wipe your ass with it, but then you've always done that. And I have managed, every single time, to wipe my ass back with the memory of your stupid smug face. Oh how silly you look begging for "compensation". A cold shower never killed anyone. GET OVER IT! Petty beggars!

So I find myself wondering, could it be my colleagues, my bosses? The current economic situation that is basically forcing me to push back my release date from the hotel? Let's face it, I won't be job hunting for the next year or two. Who knew that a bachellors degree in advertisement would be about as useful as a screen door on a submarine?

But back to the question on the slab here. Who, oh who is responsible for this moping and grunting and feet-dragging? This hissy-fittin', the random cursin, and over-sleeping? Is it the fact that my boyfriend says things like "Why do I have to show you and tell you that I love you if you know I do"? Not only that! He honestly believes, deep inside the chest cavity where his heart should be, that this is a perfectly valid and understandable question to ask.

Granted, he is a man. But I should state in my defense that this is not how I met him. He worked just fine. Fully funtional. Touchy-feely, raunchy-freaky, and this was while we were out in public. I know that when I first got him it said SATISFACTION GUARANTEED somewhere. Is he broken? And if so, WHERE IS MY RECEIPT?

Gruesome Twosome Halloween Party 2008

2008-11-19T16:40:00.000-08:00

This past October 31st, my colleague/supervisor/friend Daralynn and I, organized a small Halloween party which was far from the "garnished" and decorated vision that we had wished for. I can safely say that at least 67% of the people there were having a blast. That is, AFTER we had emptied about 4 bottles of rum, including our two $65 bottles of 12 year aged rum. OUCH!

Captain Morgan showed up for the party!

Showing off the delicious Puerto Rican rum.

The fellas show us how it's done. Uh, let's see. We got the Captain, a mobster, Hancock and Robi Rosa.

Detective Anthony Celia investigating the spiked punch.

Ah yes! The party had it all. Girl on girl rubbing...

...Bloody murder...

...Drunken superheroes...

... And some flip-offs.

Well, you don't see this type of bonding every day.

The people not having fun.

Not having fun.

Well... Maybe!

Did you spike the punch, bitch!?

Facial adjustment.

Peace to all and death to wolves.

Thriller-dancing B-boys showed up, and pretty much harassed their way into some pictures.

You can tell I was GONE!

Captain Morgan refused to open that bottle of rum. You'd think he can just pull a new bottle out of his ass whenever he wanted to, right?

After I fake-shot Daralynn in the face for being late...

... I couldn't handle it. So I shot myself. From this point on, whoever took my camera had a blast.

Hookah TIME!

Chimney!

Here, hold this for me.

Into the wilderness with the B-boys!

It hurts!

Hey look! Male on male contact!

'Cause this Is Thriller, Thriller Night

Oh the fun!

Cruisin' Puerto Rico With Daralynn!

2008-10-24T17:59:00.000-07:00

Yes indeed! And to prove it, I brought back pictures. Enjoy!

Con·de·scend 101: (kŏn'dĭ-sěnd')

2008-09-28T09:39:00.001-07:00

Con·de·scend

Pronunciation - (kŏn'dĭ-sěnd')

1. To descend to the level of one considered inferior; lower oneself.

2. To deal with people in a patronizingly superior manner.

Condescending 101: Your guide to patronizing.

(1) First, set the tone. Literally!

This is a very important first step. Basically without this very particular HIGH pitch in your voice you will just be saying words. You must emphasize certain words in a sentence as it is coming out of your mouth. And which words are to be emphasized varies with every sentiment. Saying "I hear you went out tonight" is not nearly the same as saying "SOO, I hear YOU WENT OUT tonight! And that you GOT HOME PRETTY LATE."

(2) Second, establish your dominance.

Remind your subject of their position. Exactly beneath you! Let them know that you intend to retain the position of "Hang-out King", that you were 'here' first and that you've "been there, done that." If you can pull off being extra assholish, even better! Remember, the bigger you make yourself out to be, the smaller they will look in comparison. Say things like, "that bar you went to is a piece of shit [scoff], I don't know WHY you went there. I usually go to [insert better bar here]". Or even "that drink does absolutely NOTHING for me. I had like 7 [emphasize the seven, when possible use hand] and I WAS STILL STANDING [wave arms around].

(3) Question the subject's judgement.

This is a tricky one. Condescending is an art of stealth, guerrilla warfare if you will. Being sly. You strike, you pull out, and you hide behind the innocent defense of "it was only a question". For example, "SO, did you ACTUALLY like the drink?". No matter the answer to that question you must ALWAYS re-emphasize your opinion. "Well I don't like it. I think it's just a bunch of juice, ice and like 1 tablespoon of rum. Terrible!".

(4) Finally, top it all off by resonantly denying the whole thing!

That's right. You may think all efforts to reign supreme have been lost to denial. But your opponent will feel not only paranoid but you'll show 'em who's boss. You will leave them with a heavy weight in their heart that they will never shake off. After all, you need two to have an argument!

And word to the weak. DO NOT under ANY circumstance feel guilty and apologize later for being a jerk. What's the point, really? You've already gone out of your way to position yourself on top. Now savour the fruit of your labor. Ahh! Doesn't that taste like shit?

Happy Birthday, Leo!

2008-08-17T08:19:00.000-07:00

Leo

July 23 - August 23

Personality-

Ego first, second and last with a Leo. If only they'd stop to realize that the world doesn't quite revolve around them as much as they think it does. They are so full of themselves that others are taken in and can build up quite a following of psycopaths and hanger-ons. This only helps bolster their already over-inflated sense of worth. They think any job they have is a career. They fail to notice how bad their lovers are because they're so busy watching their own performance - and that's what it is, a performance. They do love to tell everybody else what to think. They are bossy, dogmatic, opinionated and conceited. Trouble is, their opinions are always biased, subjective, unfair, based entirely on their own experiences , and short on facts. They have poor taste in clothes, as they think yesterday's fashions are still today's. Who's have the nerve to tell them though? They don't pay attention to detail. And do you know why? Lazy, that's why!

In Love-

What a showy little dog this one will turn out to be. This one will run and run - for about a week. You see the Leo is destined to be hurt in love, nay, tortured, dismembered, torn apart. They bring it on themselves. If they could learn to keep their trap shut for five minutes they might just hang on to a lover. But they don't. They do love to change, criticize, to tidy up, to argue with and finally, to drive away. It's in their nature. It's in their genes. They fall in love with the most horrendous unsuitable people; emotional cripples, too young, too old, too tall, too poor, already married (lots of this one),wrong gender, wrong planet! They seek a white knight in shining armor who will rescue them from their current love affair which has invariably gone horribly wrong. Then when you do saddle up they'll play frosty and tell you that you've arrived at the wrong time,wrong place, or with the wrong color armour. You'd think they'd be greatful to have someone to be rescued by.

In sex-

They can be tigers or they can be pussy cats, indifferent or overdemanding, turned off or turned on - you don't get an in-between with them. They are either ripping your clothes off or leaving them well alone. They either want sex ten times a night or not at all. Their idea of a good night of sex is you worshipping them, looking after their needs, servicing them, satisfying them, performing for them. Notice anything missing there? Good, because they won't have.

In business-

Like the African lion that they are named after, they are fat and indolent, cowardly and very lazy. They think they are good at business but how could they possibly be? They have no staying power, no endurance, no money and no ideas. In business, as in everything else, they like to be in control. God knows why, they're hopeless at it all. They make lousy parents as well as lousy business people, entertainers, singers, dancers and PR people. They make good show-offs, though. If you are resolved to employ one, make sure everything is nailed down or insured or replaceable or retrievable or expendable or disposable. If you didn't get it by now, they break stuff. They don't understand computers and cause them to crash. They deny this.

Miscellaneous-

+They won't go anywhere quietly. They can't sit through a play without talking or a film without being an unpaid highly vocal critic.

+They like to think they are raunchy, daring slightly dirty sorts of lovers. Thruth is they are tame, boring and un-adventurous.

+They make bossy office managers.

***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald.

The Bad, The Worse, and The Clinically Insane:

2008-08-13T19:01:00.000-07:00

Welcome to another edition of

Mini Stories for Suicidal Motivation!

If you still haven't made the decision to end your tragic and pathetic life, then I obviously failed miserably at my mission. Lucky for me that, if in fact you are alive and reading this, I get to take another whack at your barely-there-faith-in-humanity.

The Bad: The Man on the 8th floor

On one occasion, we had a high school soccer team staying at the hotel. A particularly uneventful evening was in motion. The phone rings from a room on the 8th floor, and the voice states that there were two grown men yelling at each other from either ends of the hall. No physical altercation apparently, just yelling. We send Peter, the 6'2" houseman to investigate but as expected comes up empty handed and no one's jaw to bust. And so the night continued. Until . . . A man with greying hair approaches the desk and asks very simply: "Is there anything that you could do to a guest who has been very rude to another. Like, punish them?". Aaaah! Music to my ears!

The guest who asked had apparently been bullied by another guest in front of his children, and so like a good father and in the spirit of setting the example to his kids, he wanted the hotel to take on his side and do something, of the revenge-sort, to the other guest. Now don't get me wrong, I'm all up for casting deliciously, sweet and agonizing revenge on someone who deserves it. But, gees, at least ask me AFTER I'm done with my shift. Trust me, I know all about rude guests who deserve to swerve off the road and down a rocky cliff to meet their demise.

The Worse: Smith

These hicks walk into our hotel, two little brats, approximate ages between 5 and 7, walking behind them. Now I wasn't here for the actual check-in process, but I am told that they paid in cash. This was in the time of our shift-change. Imagine my surprise when I walk in to the hotel lobby and see an entire family parading themselves in bathing suits. FYI, WE HAVE NO POOL! *sigh* I knew these people were trouble. The family claimed they had seen our homepage and that they had seen pictures of a pool. After our manager popped out and explained that we had no pool, the idiot who thought himself a rational, logical, thinking human being says this little gem: "I called that number on the screen and it connected me to YOU people and YOU people told me you had a pool". Mind you he was pointing to the homepage of our sister property Pentagon South. And guess what? They do have a pool! So it's obvious that this monumental jackass had called the wrong property when they clearly had reservations at ours. The story, sadly, does not end there. They were reimbursed full price; reservations were made for them to the other property and those came complete with a nice OUTLINED map, turn-for-turn, of where they were heading. Twenty minutes after their 'huff-n-puff' departure, they called our hotel demanding directions after they made a wrong turn. And if you guessed that it was me who answered this bitch's call, then you get the point of this blog! Ranting on and on about "this" being "fuckin' ridiculous" and "a joke", she barely paid attention to my questions as I was trying to locate her sorry-white-trash-ass-family in their sorry-white-trash-vehicle. I asked them to stop the car and give me a the name of a shop, I asked them to give me a street name, I asked them about a specific, larger-than-life hill that they would definitely remember going up on. She didn't give me any worthy information. Am I dragging on too long? Am I getting my point across? Well I'm glad you noticed, because Mrs. Smith didn't get it. After she announced she was seeing a "green car wash at Kingstowne, please tell me I'm headed in the right direction." She wasn't. And I let her know. Her response? "Ugh! Whatever! You're fucking stupid." SHOCK!
I will stop my story there because what happened after she insulted me is neither here nor there. But lady, if you are reading this, and I hope you are, I just wanted to remind you that your children were in the back seat of that car. And that all your vile insults and your astronomical idiocy and unnecessary cursing can only do so much good for those brats. They will be as foul and dirty and as condescending as you are. No smarter, more important or wanted in the world than you.

The Clinically Insane: Griffin

On a lighter note! This person was a repeat guest. Not quite enough to make him a Platinum, which is why he ended up in this section. Well, this man talked about himself in the third person, which I think kind of rocks the awesome a little bit. Here's what is not-so-fly about him. He claims to have trained me. To do what? "Hey Debbie, what do you do if Mr. Griffin reaches for a cookie?", I'm quick to lean over and fake-smack his hand with a pen and yell "POW!" as he squeals in delight. I guess I am trained, if you count reacting to verbal stimulation. One day, however, he snatched a cookie right before my eyes, immediately bit it half-way and started waving his head sideways yelling "Aaaargggh!" batting his arms beside his head like crack addict all the while clenching his teeth around the oatmeal raisin sphere. Truly a sight to behold.

Happy Birthday, Cancer!

2008-07-17T18:11:00.000-07:00

Hey crazy crab . . . You're up!

My first memory of the Dara-face, a.k.a the Philippine tarsier, is when she signaled me to come behind the front desk on my very first day of work at the hotel. We have one of those doors in which you must punch a 3-number code to unlock the door. So I ask her what the code was and she says 2-4-3. I try it, door's not budging. I try it again, swing the handle - nothing. One last time - 2 - fuckin' 4 - motherwhore 3! To no avail. Finally I straighten my back, which had been crouched towards the keypad. 'It's not working'. 'Bua-ha-ha-ha-ha!' - she laughs at me. As I should've known, she had deliberately given me the wrong code. Clever she is. Thank you, Dara. For everything.

Cancer

June 22 - July 22

Personality-

Because Cancerians have no life of their own, they just love to hear about other people's problems - and they are gullible enough to think they might be of some help. They think they have exquisite taste - but their style is old fashioned, dark and boring. They will get fat no matter what they eat. Their idea of a good night out is a dinner party - at their own house.

Clinically they are agoraphobic although they invariably claim they are merely home-loving. Basically they are unstable, bordering slightly on the barking-mad. Not interesting-mad like Aquarians, or dangerous-mad like Scorpio, but scary-mad; you wouldn't want to be alone with them when they go off their trolleys. Think bunnies in boiling water, think a knife across your throat while you're sleeping. Yeah.

Don't let them too close or you'll regret it. They claim to be intuitive (they spy on people), protective (they smother people), cautious (they are afraid to take risks), sympathetic listeners (they just want your gossip) and imaginative (no sense of reality). Cancers are moody and will snap at you for no apparent reason. To get back in their good side you will have to really humiliate yourself, go down on bended knee and bed forgiveness, promising them you'll never do it again. The reason for all this is they are simply control freaks.

In love-

Whatever you do don't make the mistake of looking bored or as if you're not listening. They hate to be ignored. When it comes to love, they hate not to be taken seriously. They make a pretty big song and dance out of anything to do with love - poetry, flowers, gifts, romantic locations, rings, body language, signals - you've been warned. If you value your life don't forget any anniversary.

In sex-

Now you'd expect them to be prudish, cautious, sensitive, delicate, discreet, straight-laced. No way. They are dirty little things. They keep their desires pretty quiet until they've hooked you and then they'll go berserk and expect you to perform all manner of bizarre and down-right deviant acts of sexual depravity.

Once the first flushes of lust have worn off for them they'll switch all their attention to gardening and leave you alone completely. Or they'll take up some bizarre sport such as tennis and insist you play as well instead of having sex. Cancer and sex is all kinds of extremes. Extreme lust or extreme tennis. But you'll never know which - so don't get any ideas.

In business-

Cancerians work well if you give them lots of direction, orders, rules, rituals, things to fetch and carry - otherwise they are bossy, arrogant and self-opinionated. You can never tell which sort you're going to get before you employ one. If they work for themselves they are highly methodical, excessively neat, unbearably tidy and organized. They color-code everything and make endless lists - they even have a list of their lists. In business they do quite well servicing other people - organizing dinner parties, organizing tours, counsellings - that sort of thing. They actually do quite well in a funny sort of way. They can earn quite a lot of money - all of which they spend on themselves or on their over-large brood of excessively cute kids.

Miscellaneous-

+They are weak, pathetic, emotional limp rags. They wear their heart on their sleeves and by golly isn't it a wet one.

+They like to make love by the river, country house, hotels, exotic hideaways. Once there, they will be busy taking notes on the decor while you're busy trying to satisfy their insatiable needs. +They often don't have to work at all as they marry rich spouses or inherit wealth or just find it on the street.

+Their homes have too much velvet in them.

***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald.

A Letter To Mimi

2008-06-07T20:11:00.000-07:00

Dearest Mimi,

No, not you my sweet little Courtyard Snail. YOU! You filthy whore. I just recently lost a ridiculous amount of respect for the news chain CNN. I'd always found it to be a bit of a stretch to go from considering the development of the current five-year war news and to considering Miley Cirus's name change "news". But hey, there's people who are interested in this kind of smut. Idiots, nonetheless.

So to make this brief and unpleasant I would like to say, Mariah Carey, it doesn't matter if you realize or not that your "sexed up image" makes you look "ditzy", because the truth is you're a fucking sell-out slut. And being aware of it will never change that, or change anyones perception of you. In fact, because you are aware of this and you refuse to do anything to change it -rather, you choose to 'intensify'- it makes you look even worse. And I can hate on you all day, girlfriend. But at the end of the day you are your own worst enemy. And there is no amount of foul-wishing on my behalf towards you that will ever cause the amount of harm that you do to yourself.

Cheers!

PS - For the rest of you unfortunate souls reading this who don't know what I'm talking about . . . CNN actually used the following headline as "breaking news".

Mariah Carey: Sexed-up image makes me look 'ditzy'

Story Highlights

Carey tells magazine she's always had low self-esteem
Says she'll marry again, to someone who understands her
Latest album "EMC2" to be released April 15th

Happy Birthday, Gemini!

2008-05-27T21:07:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to the bestest of bests! I loves you Pimp Daddy!

Gemini

May 22 - June 21

Personality-

For Gemini, life is just one long game. It has no reality - they see it all as a movie or a computer game. They'll steal and lie and cheat - just so long as they look good and appear on top. They have no morals, no ethics and will reach the top. They'd sell their granny if they could make money on her. They also like to talk about themselves rather too much. Because they all suffer from split-personalities, there are two of them to bore you to death with all the details of their cons and tricks and swindles. They think all the stunts they've pulled off make them somehow more attractive, charming, alluring.

You'll often find Gemini in exotic places where it suits their mood exactly - modern, loud, dangerous, open to deals being struck. They are restless people and often end up living abroad - mainly to escape. Escape tax, the police, the landlord or people they've conned, abused or upset. Bouncy.That pretty much sums them up. Always on the move. Always selling, plotting, planning, shceming. The reason? They're too afraid to sit still for long in case the world catches up with them - or themselves. They are frightened of the big stuff, the deep stuff - which is why they spend their lived on the trivia - the buying and the selling.

In Love-
When the Gemini falls in love doesn't everybody have to hear about it. And all the gory details! They do like to dominate in a relationship. Any partner is in for a cruel awakening when they realize they are going to play second fiddle to a jumped up little dictator.

In Sex-

Think prude. Think old-fashioned. Think holding hands. It's all a bit boring, a bit sad, and a bit wet. They like to think they're faithful, and according to their own curious code of conduct they are. God help if their partner if they stray though. All hell would break loose around them. No one betrays a Gemini and gets off without a sound ear-bashing. But that's as far as it goes. They rant and shout but they aren't violent.

In Business-

They are happy as long as they can talk - and they will talk to anyone about anything, and all of it is pure gibberish, total nonsense. They invariably have no qualifications for the job they do. They will have talked their way in of course. They feel they have something to prove all the time. The weight of the chip on the shoulder is enormous.

Miscellaneous-

+Don't expect them to read books about relationships, they don't see any need to change anything.
+Whatever you do don't employ one. They will steal the office furniture out from underneath you - and then sell it back to you.

***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald.

Nobody can smack a tush

quite like he can!

Random Rants of Stupidity

2008-05-19T23:08:00.000-07:00

Look, I don't smoke, ok?

But when a smoker asks you "do you have a smoke?" dont throw around your "superiority" by obnoxiously answering "I dont smoke."

Are you deaf motherfucker? That's not what they asked you!

Seriously, a simple no will do the trick just fine AND you won't be categorized as a self-righteous fuck-face. In fact, I will go the extra mile and say that it's admirable the fact that they are bold enough to choose their own death. Or rather, non-chalantly increase their odds, because, damn it all, I dont know how I want to die! And at least they know how they wouldn't MIND dying.

My point is the following: Learn how to answer what has been asked. Keep it simple too. 'No', 'yes', 'I do not know', 'go fuck yourself'. Nowadays idiocy is too common amongst human beings.