Pumpkin Ramen Overload

Wow, looks like I haven't had much to write about for a month and a half. I suppose that's what happens when you no longer work the graveyard shift. That or I've accepted my loss of faith in the general public.

I've found myself pretty broke and growing tired of Ramen noodles, so in classic Cara fashion... I've picked up yet another job. Of course you did, Cara. Where? You might wonder. Well, let me tell you my friends. I have picked up extra work in Hell... a pumpkin patch. The mother of all pumpkin patches. You know, geared towards children. Bouncy castles and germs galore! Kids are awesome and hilarious. They say the darndest things, I get it. However, it's been bad behavior overload. I should have expected it. Minimum wage will definitely get you kicked in the shins, figuratively and literally. Abused by children and chasing fornicating teenagers out of a corn maze... I don't think I'm going back.

It's about to get busy at my main job this week. I can't wait to avoid my favorite 80 year old volunteer. She keeps trying to set me up with her house guest. In her words...

..."he's some kind of Asian."

Shopping Cart Crusader

I have a firm belief that we should all be forced to endure the wrath of the general public at some point in our lives. Everyone should spend at least a month working in a restaurant or hotel (or really any job where you just have to take "it"), but especially a grocery store. That's where you're bound to meet all walks of life.

If there is one thing I know to be true, it's that the customer service industry will change a person. It can make you patient, give you tough skin, but most of all it can make you realize what's really important. Humanity. There are some side effects to the industry. It can make every little nuisance cut right to your soul. That's where I come in.

I've had to add to my general outing rules this week.
Restaurants:
- If you can afford to go out to eat, you can afford to tip. If you disagree... sounds like McDonald's is the place for you, along with its inevitable clogged arteries.

Hotels:
- If it sounds like someone is getting the crap beat out of them in the next room... it's called 9-1-1, they're pretty helpful.

Grocery Stores:
- Extreme Couponers: Quit clearing the shelves. I'm pretty sure there is somebody else in the area who would like some mustard.
*New*
- If you must use a shopping cart to haul your groceries around, at least have the decency to return it to one of its many designated areas. One can usually be found within a 15 foot radius.

As Hurricane Irene's VERY outer phalanges grazed Charleston, I made a trip to the store. Daredevil you say? Oh yes, I braved the drizzle. At this particular store I witnessed way too many people preparing for the worst (AKA a gust of wind) and leaving their shopping carts EVERYWHERE. Sure, make the argument that the people working at the store get them. However, there are these things known as cars. They're all over the place, especially in the parking lot... so just leaving your cart behind my vehicle justifies my anger. This could be an overreaction if it was a lone act of jackassery. Oh, but it wasn't. As I looked around at this far too familiar land of buggies, I knew I couldn't stand myself if I didn't do something. I dubbed myself "cart return volunteer" and then "awesome."

Being an experienced veteran of the brutal hospitality industry, you find yourself going out of your way to meet and exceed expectations. This has been drilled into me since my first day at college. Like a knee-jerk reaction, seems I'm going to help even when I'm on the other side. Until the next thing that grinds my gears!

Maybe I should find something more important to preach about...

Ligers and Mustaches and Cardio Machines, Oh My!

On this blistering Saturday night I am enjoying the breeze of my air conditioning, an incredibly comfortable couch, and getting a little lesson in debt from CNBC. I'm also listening to what I can only assume is the purring of the Hercules of cats. Possibly the mysterious liger? I don't think so. Try my notoriously loud neighbor working on his sweet Honda Civic for the last four hours (SPOILER ALERT: it has a not-so-purpose-serving spoiler). In my attempt to keep my anonymity from the other surrounding renters, I'll keep my mouth shut and live with it.

With a free night and little to do, I can't help but reflect on this past week. The loss of a family member induced a trip home, funeral services, and an impromptu family reunion. Even with an atmosphere looming with unresolved family issues and sadness, I couldn't help but notice how all the men in my life sport excellent mustaches. My own father has had a mustache for my entire life... I'm talking Tom Selleck style. Whether distant cousins, immediate family, or friends of relatives, I believe what is referred to as the "chevron" took the cake when it came to facial hair. I'm pretty sure about 80% of my dad's friends are rocking the "chevron"... since 1976. Keep on truckin' fellas!

Switching gears...

Yesterday night I found myself at the gym on a cardio machine. Hoping to enjoy an interrupt-less workout, I was excited to see few people in the gym. Just as my playlist got me going, that second cousin of the urinal phenomenon reared its ugly head. I counted 9 identical machines and 7 similar to the one I was on, all empty. I suppose I resemble someone who would be of some medical assistance in an emergency because Ms. Mothballs herself decided she needed to be as close to me as possible. I'm just saying... the scent of a stranger's White Rain Hairspray and me jamming to Run DMC's "It's Tricky" are not factors of a successful time in general. If she does it again, I'm giving her a name.

Hmmm, a Christmas movie on television in July? It's only natural that I watch it. Until my next awkward observance...

It's a Smelly Scorcher

There is no denying it's hot today. With a heat index of 115 degrees, I wonder why some of these tourists decided it would be a good idea to spend the day walking around downtown Charleston. The best part is when they come into the building where I work and say "it's pretty hot out there." Really? The fact that you are covered in sweat stains and reek didn't tip me off. Please don't talk so close to me. I don't want your stench.

As I was enjoying the air conditioning this morning, I watched one of the infamous tour guides (a brittle, old, British lady) drag herself to a bench. She's so tiny. It's hard to believe she's never broken in half. I mean, you can literally see her bones through her skin...and her feet are actually purple. I hate that I know that. Her group looked concerned with her health as she took about 5 minutes to re-cooperate. My only thought was please don't die in here. It may be morbid or a little insensitive but I'm just saying... I don't want any dead bodies on my watch.

I can really smell the horse crap today...

Is This Roid Rage?

It's been 11 days since I quit the hotel and well... it's been marvelous sleeping. I will never take that simple act  for granted again. My attitude is great, I have a ton of energy, and my mood is... dare I say chipper?

With some free time now on my hands I've decided to work on getting myself healthy again. There's not a doubt in the world that a year of sleep deprivation did a number on my mind, body, and spirit. So, boot camp it is! Yep, kicking my own ass... but now that I have the time, that's all I want to do. It's also helpful that my body is trained to wake up at any time of the day (literally.any.time). Looks like 5 AM and I will be having a love/hate relationship for the next couple of months!

This week's dilemma:
The workout is at 6 AM outside. Not too hot, so at least I don't have to smell other people in the confines of a mildewy, ring-worm infested gym. Although it's been enjoyable to re-learn what sunlight is, I did not enjoy the mysterious insect bite that left me looking like Popeye's special cousin. My upper right arm was swollen and could be seen through my sleeves. As it began to cut the circulation off to my hand, I thought just maybe I should go see a doctor. I don't like hospitals and I don't like shots, but I sure got the jackpot that day. Thank you hilarious, nameless doctor who shot me up with steroids... I would love to stalk you (in the Facebook sense). So, now I'm on some steroid pills for 10 days because of some insect. Maybe it's in my head or maybe I just didn't realize what kind of energy sleep could give a person... but I could lift a freakin' car. Watch out Iron Man.

Only about .000001% of me is sad about cutting my  interactions with people in half. So, on to another adventure? I not sure that's the word. I think I will be using myself as a new social experiment. I am open to ideas.

Last Night in Zombieland

In about 2.5 hours I will officially be done working at the hotel... I hope I'm not dreaming.

It's been nothing but a silly, fun-filled night at work. The GM asked us to order whatever we wanted and he'd pay for it. So, obviously Edwina and I went to town on some terribly unhealthy food. I'm telling myself it's for old time's sake. After clogging our arteries we busted out some sweet moves while cleaning the bar up after a bunch of drunk babies, or should I say middle-aged men. I haven't been in the kitchen in a while and even after washing them a million times, my hands are left with the distinct smell of one who works in a restaurant. If you've been there, you know what I mean... lemon juice, here I come.

After our little dance marathon I sat down to catch up on some tv shows on my computer. Somehow I ended up watching "Love Handles: Couples in Crisis." Let's just say, I'd rather witness a knee surgery. That amount of uncomfortable was just unbearable, so Edwina and I decided to go harass our frog friends.

My experience in this zombieland hasn't been all bad. I definitely have some stories and an unreal tolerance for NO sleep. I would now like to reflect upon some skillz and habits I've acquired in the past 11 months:

- Top notch incident report filler-outer 

- Real good calculator user

- Ability to give self excellent paper and folder cuts

- Confesses love to Jimmy Johns employees at 1:30 am 

- Random Bible swiping

- A developed hatred of cookies

I'd like to close by taking a look at an experiment of classical conditioning that has unknowingly unfolded during my time at the hotel. It's similar to that of Pavlov's Dog. Pavlov, you sneak bastard. 

Every time I hear the ding of a bell... well, I think you know.

Goodbye, bell. I'll miss you most of all!

The Conversation

With only 5 days (or should I say nights?) left at the hotel I've become increasingly more aware that I need to take notice on the everyday awkwardness that surrounds me. I think it's safe to say that the general public can make any simple occurrence uncomfortable. My new mission... well, I guess it's the same as the old mission but outside of the hotel purgatory I've been living for the past 11 months.

A few days ago, as I was leaving my parents' house to head back to Charleston, I stopped by a grocery store to pick up a whopping two items. The elderly woman in one of the check-out lines was buying not even a handful of groceries. Using simple math, but not adhering to the possible annoying behaviors of human society, I picked what looked like the quickest trip out of the store. Math, you failed me. How exactly does one attempt to exercise "extreme couponing" on a tiny amount of products. Many of her coupons were expired and the argument became heated. The woman eventually gave up and paid what she owed only to remember that she was a senior citizen. Yes, I was slightly annoyed but she may not have a lot of money and I wasn't in a huge hurry. And then it happened.... the conversation. I'm pretty confident that many people would back me up in saying the check-out line is the wrong place to start up a conversation with the cashier when there are other people in line. Every time the woman looked like she was about to leave, she remembered something she wanted to add to their little talk and would butt right back in front of me. This happened about 3 times before I caught wind of the very stimulating topic. She grabbed my arm said "If you must know, we are talking about homemade banana ice cream."

My reaction was either: 
A) "Well, if you must know, I'm trying to purchase my own items!"
B) "ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?"
C) "Oooooo, do tell more! I'd love to hear about the world's worst flavored ice cream!"

If you guessed any of these, you're wrong. I've always found the best way to get around these issues are just to stare blankly at the perpetrator and check your watch (it's even better if you're not wearing one) until they feel uncomfortable enough to leave. Ah, my point was made without a single word.

Note to self: Grocery shopping (and the rarely used Wal-Mart shopping) is a time to call in pessimism. Don't fight it, use it to get your dirty work done.

Those Sneaky Bastards

Fruit... those sneaky bastards. Covered in its protective skin, rind, etc. How am I to know what's really on the inside? There's nothing like getting revved up for nature's candy only to discover that something sucked all the orange juice out of the orange.

I don't have much else to report from the past week. I have taken the weekend off to stay at my parent's house while they are out of town. I spent entirely way too much time talking to my dog and dancing around to some old school rap. That being said, I'm worried about the normal free time I  have coming to me in about a week (since my time at the hotel is coming to an end). I have many things planned but what to fit into those other few hours? Learn a new language? Read some more books? Implement a task force to beat up those internet scammers that prey on little, old ladies? I am definitely open to suggestions.

Holy Heebie-Jeebies!

I've accomplished so much this morning. Gave myself the best paper cut of my life, added a 47th station to my Pandora Radio, and probably acquired a cavity due to all the chewing gum I've gone through in the past hour. Only another 60 minutes left of work... and then on to the next!

Spoleto is coming to a close this weekend and I must say I am relieved. We've made it through most of the festival with just a few misdemeanor potty issues... but the crazies are starting to come out. A possible homeless squatter, a Jewish-Protestant exorcist, and a religious rapping poet sums up the major highlights of the past two days. Seriously, where is my reality show?

I have a few confessions to make. I'm feeling bad about some things solely due to the heebie-jeebies. There is a specific usher at job #1, roughly 115 years old, who is always talking about how her skin keeps cracking and tries to get me to feel how thin it is. You should see my face during this exchange, holy grossness. Today she asked if I had a nail file she could borrow. I told her no (lie) because in my head all I could imagine was the usher breaking all of her fingers off while filing her nails and then handing them to me. Quite the imagination I have... but I wouldn't be surprised if something like that happens in the near future. And trust me, I will throw up on the spot. I'm also feeling a little guilty that I did not help a very confused, disoriented woman as much as I probably could have today. She was kind of....well, let's just say she was icky. Her dress was clearly on backwards and I failed to tell her because I REALLY did not want help re-dress her. I'm terrible, I know.

The end of my zombie days is fast approaching. That's right, I have put my notice in at the hotel. I guess I'll have to make an effort to go out and find the nighttime loonies, but for the first few weeks I think I'll just be enjoying that thing I once knew as sleep.

Ah, The Weirdness of People

What am I doing to myself? How did I get in this position? I don't want to be here... but wait, where do I want to be? Why do I feel like I'm 16 again? Where's my time machine? Holy crap, what am I going to be when I grown up? Sorry, this life-crisis-seizure happens about once every 3 hours.

It's been a funny/crazy/annoying/exhausting day, but I suppose that is every day. I hopped in my car to drive to work about 14 hours ago, turned on my car, and read 101 degrees on my dashboard. Thank you Willis Haviland Carrier, AKA The Father of Cool (the inventor of modern air conditioning for those of you who didn't get it) and thank you Google because yes, I looked that up... knowledge is power! Back to the story - Apparently these ridiculous temperatures seem to affect my radio and literally nothing can be done. Can not turn it off, no volume control or changing of stations. So, I just knew that my day was off to a mediocre start when I was forced to listen to James Blunt on my way to work. Creepy alien voice...

I got a lot of great people watching/interacting done at job #1. I had a really deep conversation with man on the front steps as the cello and violin players outside covered The Beatles "In My Life." It would have been such a great moment, right out of a movie. You know, one of those perfect conversations of your life with a stranger who you'll never forget. If only the man didn't make me incredibly nervous by talking so close, eating his cigar, and speaking in limericks. Damn, almost had it. At one point, the only thought in my head was "please back your face away from my face."

I watched a girl with the most awkward walk, walk all the way down the street. Apparently she has yet to learn the purpose of sidewalks. It was one of those  girls who carry themselves as if they are on a runway when they start seeing the men... but it really made her look like she needed to go to the bathroom. I've seen people with no legs who've got a better swagger. Is that mean? She just looked like she thought she owned the street and was the baddest bitch in town. Where's a water balloon when you need one?

It's 5 AM and Vlademir has been snoring like a wild banshee since before I even arrived at the hotel. It's been nearly impossible to wake him up and every time I do he just falls asleep mid-not-even-sentence. I slapped him in the back of the head and asked if he had started the audit (30 minutes late) to which he replied "YES," pointed at a screen saver, and fell back into his sleep coma. And here I am, updating my blog and catching up on current events.

As usual, my thoughts are unorganized but I do not apologize. That is the way my brain works and I tend to not care about most things between 3 and 7 AM. Well, it's off to sleep shortly. I hope I'm not being chased by a dinosaur in my dreams again.

I Hope Moron Ain't Contagious

You know when you're already having a bad day... and then a giant bird flies over and takes a giant bird crap right on you head during some giant crappy moments? That is how I have felt for the past two days. I can't seem to get one thing to go my way, even something as simple as keeping my keys in my hand. At one point today I dropped them 5 times in a row, I counted. What a backwards day. I would literally lose a million dollar bill right now. It would vanish in front of my face because the Universe knows that I'm going to lose it anyway.

The past 48 hours have been a whirlwind of stupidity. I mean, the kind of people that define the word "moron." I have had to cope with the fact that people are stupid enough to eat the air freshener out of the public restrooms at job #1. I understand that they may look like candy or possibly just colorful rocks, but who would eat anything coming out of a bathroom.... a PUBLIC bathroom? Wow, humans, way to embarrass humanity all together. Those Renuzit crystals better not make you crap your pants...again!

Also some side notes, I've managed to offend all the taxpayers by my mere presence. And someone managed to leave a pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes behind. Seriously? We are trying to run a classy establishment, keep your shoes on! This ain't a Kenny Chesney video!

P.S. A man yelled at me tonight because his grown-ass 23 year old daughter and him are having some parent-child authority issues. She went out with some guy and had not returned by 2:30 AM. WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!? Sorry your daughter is slutting it up. Enjoy grounding your TWENTY THREE YEAR OLD child.

A Money-Slingin' Panther

Wow, it's only 2:30 AM and my night is far from over. Vlademir is being extremely uncooperative and it looks like I'll be holding down the fort for the rest of the shift. I've had my third war of the night with the copying machine and just had to tell some guy that he couldn't bring his pit bull into the hotel to which he replied "but I play football for the Carolina Panthers, Google my name." He then offered me $200 to let him check his dog in too.

Enter extreme sarcasm/bitchiness. They go hand in hand at this point.

"Oh, you play for the Panthers?? Why didn't you say so?? Well, you know what I'm going to let you do? Figure out something else to do with your dog because this is not a pet-friendly hotel. And while we're at it, your monetary offer is a giant slap in my face as you essentially would be paying me only $200 to lose my job."... that doesn't cover one month of student loans.

He ended up finding something to do with the dog and finally asked if I was Asian. It's been overdue, I suppose. I didn't even look this guy up seeing as he did not want to pay the steep $20 it costs for valet parking but was willing to empty his wallet for his dog.

The random drunk guy laying on the bench hollered over to me after our "football player" left, "Why didn't you take the money?"

In my classically corny fashion I followed with, "I play the game of my life my friend and I plan on coming out ahead." And then I disappeared around the corner. Yep, that's what I said. I'm just glad nobody as cool as myself was present to witness that.

Some Unfortunate Happenings

Well, it's official... I will now be avoiding the hotel bathroom at all costs. It's not the drunken, crazy bachlorette parties or anything else that vomits all over oneself. It's the fact that when I took my one trip to the bathroom at 6 AM this morning I caught a hotel employee washing their hair in the sink among other things you do at home. At the risk of sounding like a germaphobe, let me paint you a picture. There was hair everywhere and when the "job" was done, the hair remained. I know that even at my worst moments in life I've managed to somewhat clean up after myself... of course that may be because of the fear. The fear of embarrassment that this individual obviously does not have. To sum this morning up, EW.

Just had to mention the first thing on my mind. Unfortunately and as expected, it was bathroom related. On a positive note, I had the rare oppportunity to enjoy a free weekend these past few days to be a carefree 20 something. Got tipsy, got burned, got sleep. Three characteristics of an awesome weekend that of course was topped off with spending, eating, and people watching. It was a weekend full of a series of uncomfortable events (as is life) but the event that takes the cake has to be....drumroll.... the waitress who confused the bar/restaraunt she worked in for a whore house. Let's spare the details. Point is, there is that "no drinking at work" rule for a reason. I am sorry to all the parties involved as they are friends, but thank you for a hilariously awkward story.

My Kryptonite

I remember when I was a kid, I often had a few dollars in my shoe. I'm not sure why... I'm going to assume I didn't have pockets with whatever tomboy attire I was wearing at that age. The point is, I'm sure we've all been there with our sweaty foot money.

Flash foward to adulthood (you know- with pockets, wallets, purses, the whole shebang). A man paid for his hotel stay with cash this morning, I'm talking hundreds of dollars of the green stuff. I'm not sure where he pulled the money out of because I'm too short to see that far over the desk. I'm already uncomfortable enough handling that amount of mulah but the not-so-pleasant surprise was the cash itself... wet. Well, it wasn't raining outside... so why is your money soggy? I'm not sure I want to know.

Have you ever smelled money? It's disgusting. The higher the bill, the worse. So not only am I holding wet paper of an unknown origin but they are big bills. I'm sure they include traces of cocaine, feces (here I go again), etc. What is the next plan of action? Naturally, for someone this obsessive, find a sink! Oh but wait, the nearest sink is on the other side of the building... it's obviously ridiculous to have any type of employee bathroom. I'm sure the next guest could read my panicked expression as I tried to think if I had touched my face or hair. I eventually was able to wash the hell out of my hands... and to be safe, I took a shower.

So, there you have it folks. My kryptonite... wet cash.

Yay, Thugs!

I haven't had a full night of sleep since last Thursday and I have reached the tipping point... my exhaustion has become physically painful. I can take solace in the fact that I have the opportunity to sleep all day tomorrow, but I've got to make it through 6 more hours.

I'm surprisingly okay with having to work tonight. My not-so-powerful 2 hour nap was interrupted every 20 seconds by the shrieking child in the house next to me. I can't be mad at her. I'm sure that I would be just as upset if I realized my dad was displaying all of his samurai swords on the living room wall too.

The hotel is fairly dead this evening, aside from the usual Tuesday night debauchery, and I hope it stays that way. Edwina called out sick earlier and I enjoyed a secret victory dance inside my head. The past two nights have been consumed with her nightly habit, obituary reading... it's a little game I like to call "Wow, That Thug Was Such a Nice, Young Man." I'm sure at some point in our lives we will all have the unfortunate experience of knowing someone who has been taken under gunfire. However, this woman seems to know every single thug that's been shot up within a 50 mile radius and then continues to stress what a shame it is that they were killed. Do we see a problem here? I'm pretty sure the Universe is trying to say, "Hey, you're hanging out with the wrong crowd!" Hell yeah, I'm completely judgemental. If I could spout off 20 people a week that were guilty of armed robbery, drug trafficking, etc. and then died in some heist gone wrong... well, let's just say "GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!"

I'm feeling a little mean today. My sleep deprivation has got the best of me and I'm down on my luck... but I got to keep my head up.

When Sh** Hits the Wall

For those of you who are not familiar with the term "Spoleto Festival" let me fill you in on the basics: A whole lot of people and a whole lot of crazy. Nobody should find this offensive as I am solely referring to the patron factor.

The building I work in will be operating practically 24/7 and will be covered with multitudes of people... you just can't keep out the riff raff these days. At the thought of risking a Vietnam flashback of last year's festival, I have vowed to prepare myself for the worst. Let me tell you about the worst thing that could happen and definitely will happen. (Please exclude obvious terrible things, i.e. death, broken bones, air conditioning outage, etc.) The worst thing that could happen will be from here on out referred to as an AFR. That's a special code.

An AFR? Accidental Fecal Release

YES IT HAPPENS
I've got many witnesses of a full on coniption of mine from last year.

I'd like to inform you all that an AFR is not age or gender specific... and suprisingly it almost always is committed by an adult. So I was very wrong 6 years ago when I swore I would not be cleaning up someone else's #2's until I had children of my own. It should be noted that 6 years ago I was changing diapers in a daycare. I don't want to get into the details but here's the straight facts:

• It will happen
• It will be where it's least expected (yep, believe it)
• I will probably throw up more in 17 days than I have in 17 years

However shall I prepare for this catastrophe? I have decided to put in a request for a hazmat suit. That's right Archibald Jelly Williams, I'm talking to you. It can't possibly be that much of a controversy. I'm sure Lady Gaga has a few bedazzled ones in an egg or a deer carcass or whatever she's living in this week.

Secondly, I would like to have dunce caps given out to these individuals if and when they are discovered. They will have 3 to choose from:

1) "I CRAPPED ON THE FLOOR"
2) "I CRAPPED ON THE WALL?"
      *This one has a question mark because I can't even begin to understand how that happens?!?!*
And my all-time favorite:
3) "I CRAPPED IN MY PANTS AND DECIDED TO FLUSH MY XXXL UNDERWEAR DOWN THE TOILET ONLY TO REALIZE THAT THEY DIDN'T FIT AND I'M TOO LAZY TO CLEAN UP AFTER MYSELF SO I'M GOING TO LET THE PEOPLE THAT WORK HERE FISH IT OUT"

In conclusion, let the grossness begin.

P.S. I'm a little sad that so many of my stories revolve around poo.

Summing Up Some Things That Don't Correlate... As Usual

Sunday No Fun Day

There is so little to do when the hotel is far from full. I finished all of my work by 11:45 PM and had nothing to do until 2:30 AM. This is nothing compared to the building full of drunks from Saturday night... and I mean beyond hammered. We found one guy passed out in the elevator with his foot sticking out the door and his friend was not too far from the same scenario. I was labeled "bitch of the night" after my threat to call the police within 20 seconds. I'm okay with that. I have absolutely no tolerance for that level of crap, especially for men of that age. I've got the whole thing on video... partly for the incident report but mostly for the entertainment.

Edwina's ability to fall asleep as soon as she hits a chair has been driving me crazy. So, imagine my silent victory when the owner popped in at 6 AM to pick up the one piece of paper I had just put in his box. What was the first thing he saw? Edwina, wrapped in a blanket, sleeping, and with a desk covered in magazines and cut-out coupons. When she was asked why she had one of the hotel's blankets around her, she told the owner that I was freezing her to death. I don't think so missy. My rebuttal? "Don't blame your menopause on me woman." He liked it.

On to the next job!

Night Creatures...

Remember this guy....

This is the spitting image of the hotel's overnight bellman. A real life zombie. Trust me when I stress that this is not an exaggeration. I suppose anyone would grow to look like this working graveyard shifts for almost two decades. However, this is not a pleasant sight. I've decided to not give him a name and he will only be referred to as The Night Man. He is one of the most unusual people I have ever been forced to interact with and makes every situation uncomfortable. He reminds me of a schizophrenic dishwasher that worked at a former job of mine. Always spouting off nonsense phrases... "banana cheese," "spaghetti grits," etc. Some of you may be familiar with that former acquaintance of mine as he went by the name of a popular fruit. So, congratulations if you've experienced that.

Back to The Night Man. He is the ruler of the parking garage at night and it's just best to avoid the area. One time he popped out from behind a car to scare me as I was trying to park. Let's just say he's lucky I didn't get out of my car and key him to death with my Wolverine attack. (You know ladies, keys between the fingers... and then straight for the eyes!)

Just thought I'd introduce another character from my present life. I'll leave you with the last thing he said to me this morning.

"You know when the (insert made up word) takes the gooney and the (insert made up word)." And then enormous cackle... confusing. Welcome to my every day.

"Chop, Chop" Goes the Jackhole!

Monday night was super fun at the hotel... not! Working alone for the second night in a row got old really fast.

I will never understand how the drunk count is often significantly higher on a Monday than a Saturday. Must be those crazy conferences, all drunk off of synergy! That being said my new friend, Mr. Jackhole, made his 3rd jackhole appearance around 2:00 AM. Drunk? But of course! Speaking in the most condescending manner, he clearly wanted me to know how superior he was to me. About two and a half hours later he came to the desk demanding to know where his car was since he had requested it to be outside at 4:15 AM. "I have a flight to catch and you need to do your job. Chop, chop!" Oh yeah, he did that... hand gestures and all. "Sir, have you even looked outside? No? Well, maybe you should head on out there because that's where your car is." As he stumbled over what to say next I said "see ya" and disappeared back into the office. That guy was a jerk and I'd love nothing more than to chop, chop his head off but he makes himself look like an ass so my job has been done for me.

Literally what he looked like every time he spoke, hee haw:

Bittersweet Symphony

Wow, I have been in Charleston for over a year and have accomplished so much on my own. Today I'm proud of me. I'm going to go home, sleep in a cocoon for a few hours, and then spend of the rest of the day in a sleep coma on the beach.

The weirdo radar has been pretty low for the last 24 hours so I don't have a whole lot of craziness to report, but I'll be by myself at the hotel tonight so I have no doubt that this has been the calm before the storm. Sunday was a day of goodbyes. I knew it was coming but these folks have made my life in Charleston pretty funny... and often strange, which we all know I love. Who wants to be dull?


Cue "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve

Ira, Lee, Mikey, Stephanie, and Mary-E:

Thank you all for your friendship these past 10 months. You are the most interesting, crazy, funny, loud, and open people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and I am so glad that I got to have you in my life for the better part of a year. I'm going to Facebook stalk each and every one of you in every size, shape, and form. I'M GOING TO "POKE" THE CRAP OUT OF Y'ALL! LOVE YA, MEAN IT ;)

Serenity Now!

It's been one of those days... the kind where you drop everything you touch, every car is driving 30 in a 45, you have to repeat yourself 72 times to the same small group of people, and the only thing that would make anyone feel better is to go home and sleep off this frustrating day. Oh but wait! You've got another job to go to!

Nothing like facing a long night of drunken jerks with an attitude that you just can't shake. Who wants to put on a smile for some slimy creeper while the only thing you want to do is set something on fire and cackle? This is what I looked like coming into the hotel tonight:

So far my face has remained stone cold and I'm obviously ready to hit everybody with my dagger eyes. I thought that things at work would be a little better since I came up with my ploy to keep my coworkers semi-awake. I stole the chair that they typically fall asleep in because it is the only remotely comfortable chair that leans back in the entire office. I've been able to keep up with this for a few weeks and it's been quite helpful. However, Vlademir just can't keep his eyes open tonight... or his venus fly trap (mouth). He is upright, unconscious in the worlds most uncomfortable seat, and I have watched him fall asleep twice while on the phone with a guest. I have turned the ringer up as loud as it goes and it is very possible that people can hear it in their rooms. I just keep on hitting redial on my phone everytime I hear the snoring start. Mean? Yes. Effective? Enough. (He may look awake but gibberish is no way to make sense)

I'm hoping luck finds my way soon. I don't need a break, I need a change of pace. I feel the silver hairs coming...

Thinking-Out-Loudness

I thought I would just jot down some things people said throughout the day at job #1. The following were said by tourists, employees, and random people I'm not sure about:

"I've got blue on my face"

"I can't believe Dracula is coming back... that's awesome!"

"I don't have eyes on my ass!"

"I want to take advantage of people..."

"What's that smell? I can taste it."

"Let's go loquat picking"

"What Cityville? Do you feed the homeless?"

"Do the stairs go up?"

"Wow, you're really beating me with that X."

"Why would you say you don't know if that's a word? You know when people say I got kicked in the gnads?"

"It's greasy because I just ate steak... not that kind of steak, I'm heterosexual."

"There's someone out here, I don't know if it's a man or a woman and I need your help."

"My britches are falling down."

"No! We're going to eat it! Why would you waste good sugar?"

"Look at the wiz!"

"I'm sitting here with my blue beard on, watching cuppy cake boy for the 5th time and I feel totally normal..."

Some Lines That Rhyme About My Favorite Morning Road Nazi

To the thing that does the street sweeping
You keep these stupid, young ladies weeping
I've warned them of your power
But the look they gave was sour
Because they were picked up by guys that were creeping

Their cars were blocking the road
And you had to lighten the load
Now they'll have to pay the fine
Nobody listened to the advice of mine
So the street doesn't smell like a commode

He surely is a keeper
The towing toll isn't getting cheaper
We'll keep him around
To clean up the town
That righteous old street sweeper

Freezing For The Cause... of Menopause!

Nothing like working the graveyard shift with a menopausal woman. I'm pretty sure my teeth have been chattering for about 2 hours now and dumb old me forgot my parka. Who woulda thunk that I'd need it in 90 degree weather? (Speaking of 90 degree weather, let's get excited about downtown reeking of horse crap for the next 5 to 6 months!)

My "midlife passaging" co-worker, Edwina, has successfully intercepted all of my attempts to adjust the thermostat all night. It's amazing, she'll be completely out and making a noise that I can only describe as someone wringing out an "oinking" pig and can still block my stealthiest of moves. Maybe it's just me but I'm thinking 60 is just a smidge too cold.

I think it would be pretty funny if we all wrote down what we ACTUALLY do on a resume. Mine would include some of the following facts:

- Constant state of amusement
- Professional vomit cleaner
- Certified rejector of old men's advances
- Point of over-reaction target
- Accomplished in waking up sleeping co-workers
- Skilled in the art of smartass answers to super douchebags
...and the always fun...
- Excellent messer of the messees

I can't say that my insane schedule is always a downer. I'm going to get my sleep on a deserted beach all day. Monday Funday!

Twas The Night Before Easter... And a Lady Made Me Unhook Her Bra

It is a very young Saturday night and Vlademir is out cold. 13 minutes into a shift and he could wake the entire first floor. Every once in a while I check to make sure he's still breathing... if the snoring actually stops, that is.

Well, I can say that there is no request that will not be brought up... and by 'request' I mean 'demand.' A woman who implied that I was not capable of understanding simple questions yesterday TOLD me to unhook her bra tonight. Oh yeah... that happened. I understood that she couldn't reach but why would you travel alone with clothing that you cannot put on or take off yourself?

I'm not looking forward to spending my first Easter without my family and being at both jobs all day but I can take solace in the fact that someone (my new friend Curly) will be taping up my hands to see how many things I can or cannot do without my thumbs tomorrow. I'll make sure to have no shoelaces near me!

The Cherry That Topped My Crap Sundae

I've got 1 hour until I can go home and sleep for 12 hours... and I will. It's 6 AM and I've got the shakes. Coffee has lost its purpose, my contacts are trying to pop right off my eyes, and the only song on my iPod that I want to listen to is Sting's "Fields of Gold." I have no explanation for the song.

I'm going to have to invent a new term for the word "exhausted." This weekend has been hell. Everyone has complained about EVERYTHING and all I want to do is hand out IOU's to all the jerks for one giant slap in the face. Want to continuously ring the bell while I'm talking to another guest? You need to be slapped. Want to bitch at me for the fact that YOU forgot to schedule a taxi at 5 in the morning? You need to be slapped. Angry because you were put in a room with one king bed and a chair that YOU booked but brought along your four kids and wife? Too stupid to be slapped... that just calls for an enormous eye rolling.

It was bad enough that I barely sat down at either job all weekend but the cherry that topped my crap sundae was my experience as a housekeeper. To keep that story short... the bellman and I had to clean a room, kind of an emergency cleaning. Old food, stained sheets, and I'm afraid to know what actually took place in the bathroom. Guess the hurricane of gross decided to pay a visit. We both double and triple gloved up and braved the stench. Reward? We each made 5 dollars which I used to buy my coffee... and as mentioned, it served no purpose.

This place could learn a thing or two about what an incentive actually is... that's a story for another time. This has been another adventure from the tales of a disgruntled night auditor.

Friday's Abusivisity

I think we all can agree when I say customer service is abusive.

It's funny that I rely on all of these "customers" that make my stories so entertaining. What's going to happen when I remove myself from this type of work environment one day? I suppose I'll just have to interact with people on the other side.

I understand that in some situations I am going to have to be the outlet at 2:30 in the morning. I let them yell at me and get all their frustrations with life out on the desk. That's fine, I'm not taking it personally but when you question my intelligence repeatedly we're going to have a problem. What part of my not-so-smart self was being challenged? Oh just the issue of what kind of food will be delivered in the very late hours of the night (or should I say morning).

What I would have liked to say this particular individual:
IS THIS FOR REAL? You are going to continously tell me that I'm wrong? Do you understand the concept of time? Please use one iota of your brain for 2 seconds. You are in a city that you are unfamiliar with, it is in good ole' South Carolina, and the bars have closed. Can you get a hamburger? Why yes, of course! It's called McDonalds and I promise you they won't deliver and NO your car cannot be pulled around for you. Why? Because you're missing a shoe and you smell like a microwaved diaper. Is it safe for me to assume that you're intoxicated? Absolutely! You've obviously puked all over your shirt and you are double fisting some Natty Light... classy. So, for the fifth time here is the number for pizza. How can you be so picky? You're just going to throw up whatever you eat again.

Good thing I never act on these rants inside my head. There is no getting through to drunk people. I suppose my cavelierness (not a word) has saved another soul from turning to stone due to my death stare. Now if only my theory of permanent dunce caps would pan out...

Hi-ho, Hi-ho it's Off to Picking Up Pinecones I go

I was under the impression that after I had graduated high school (6 years ago) and moved out of my parents' house that I would be exempt from yard work until the day I had my own yard. WRONG.

Maybe it's just me but I remember having to stay home some weekends while in high school to pick up sticks, pinecones, weeds, and other prickly items. I was banned from both the push lawnmower and riding lawnmower after my dad discovered the beautiful zig zag lines that were covering the front yard... courtesy of me. He just couldn't appreciate good lawn art.

Anyway, some gift from the gods granted me 3 full days off from both jobs and they all happened to fall on this weekend. Okay, okay they didn't so much fall as I planned it and asked off for them but let's make it sound like a miracle. I've got to add some pizzazz to this 20-something purgatory. As I was saying... I had the weekend off and decided to spend it with my family. What did I plan to do? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! My mind, body, eyeballs, hair, fingernails, etc. were exhausted beyond belief. But as fate would have it, I found myself enjoying some mindless TV show when somehow I was roped into going outside and helping clean up the mess of a dead, torn down pine tree.

Vietnam flashback? Not so much. I enjoyed the time with my family and chasing my dog with yard work tools that she hates. I also got the opportunity to vacuum all of the saw dust out of the grass. That's right, VACUUMED THE GRASS!

Heeeeeeeere's.... Bibles?

The last few nights at the hotel have been uneventful and trust me when I say I am thankful for that. However, a minor incident that happened this past weekend is on my mind. I'm not even sure if it can be classified as an 'incident,' maybe just a happening. A woman came to the desk in the wee hours of the morning on Saturday to let me know that there were Bibles lining the 4th floor hallway. Odd...

Now, a hotel can be creepy late at night... a scene right out of "The Shining." So imagine the same thing but with Bibles mysteriously lining your path down a long, deserted hallway. Is the boss man sending a message to the sinners of the 4th floor only? Maybe, or perhaps Gideon's people have struck again.

Freedom of speech can be a blessing and a curse. So, go ahead and spread God's love or hate or whatever you're after for the day but this act is going to cost some dough. Call me a heathen but I asked the bellman to remove all the Bibles. Why? Because I know people. If we had left the Bibles on the doors, I am absolutely positive that at least one person would have come to the desk claiming to be offended. They could claim to be the most devout atheist on Earth and demand their money back and then be right on their way to Bible study that afternoon. These are probably the same folks that claim someone has died to get out of something. Don't worry, they're digging their own grave.

Have I become the Antichrist? I'm going to go with no. I can just honestly say that even decent people are always willing to lie, cheat and steal... so why not get a free room night out of it?

I get by with a little help from my... indifference.

All actions, opinions, and proceedings are derived from job #1 (Law & Order noise)


If the actions/complaints of the elderly are any indication of what my future holds as an old person, I better find the fountain of youth. I'm aware that my sarcasm and indifference to unimportant matters may annoy some, but as informed... that is unimportant to me.

Things that are important:
*Emergencies - "Chairs #4 and #5 are mixed up!" is not an emergency, switch them around.

*Work - the fact that you are elderly and feel the need to tell me you are running late (as an unpaid volunteer) because of a diaper related incident is not considered work-related for me. "Sorry I'm late" will suffice.

This is generally the day-to-day mountain of a mess I deal with. Do I care? Not really. It provides me with some pretty funny stories and a chance to use the words "thanks for sharing" a little too much.

In response to a volunteer apologizing for missing the last 3 shows I said "no big deal." Why? Because it's no big deal. She then began complaining how the people who coordinate the volunteers are so cavalier. When I re-introduced myself for about the 5th time, she continued to use the term repeatedly. Since I'm positive that I am not a knightly gentleman, I will have to assume that you are calling me indifferent. Well, thank you for pointing out something I am already aware of. Did my cavalier attitude towards your uneccessary apology upset you? Would you rather me hulk out? Wait until you "accidentally" scream at a confused patron again... because a confused patron is NOT A BIG DEAL.

So, volunteer whose name resembles a sound one might make in a bat cave, thank you for pointing out my quality that makes me relaxed. Oh and we won't be seeing you anymore since you couldn't stop calling one of our actors in the building "sissified." They're just feelings, they'll heal.

The Art of Hunting the Faceplant

It's that time of the week again... Saturday.

The pitter patter of drunken bachelorette parties, the sweet sound of projectile vomitting, and phone calls from a not-so-sweet old lady claiming that prostitues have taken over the second floor has occupied most of this evening... and the bars haven't even closed yet.

We're free until it's time to run the audit so Vlademir and I are awaiting our Saturday treat... THE FACEPLANT. It's like hunting for the Lockness Monster. We often catch the very end of its appearance or hear the noise it makes, but usually miss this beautiful encounter. However, every once in a while fate is on our side and we are lucky enough to catch the mother of all drunken trainwrecks.

This Saturday we have 5 known bachelorette parties in the hotel. This means 5 times the drama and 5 times the laughs. I know, I know... it's rude to laugh AT people, but how do you expect me to react to 4 intoxicated women arguing over whose pink dress is the true shade of hot pink? They also informed me that the maid of honor was kicked out of the drinking binge early because her dress was salmon colored. Can we say BRIDEZILLA?... or better yet IDIOT? I wonder what their survival skills are like. I would watch that reality show. No make up, no phone, all crying.

The faceplant has yet to present itself to us, but I have faith. The bars just closed and the event draws near...

The misinterpretation of easy-to-read, few-syllable words

If there is anything I've learned about tourists it is that they don't read, won't read, and can't read. A big sign that reads "CLOSED" should not be interpreted as "PLEASE COME IN." While we're at it, a sign that reads "WE ARE CURRENTLY CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE EVENT, PLEASE DO NOT ENTER" does not mean that your safari outfit wearing family can come in for a tour of the building at 9:30 PM. How can this be misunderstood when there is a giant cocktail party of elegantly clothed old folks going on?

The amount of adult aged people that push their faces up against the windows at job #1 is impressive. However, the building has just been washed so I would love nothing more than to squirt them with a water bottle when I see this ridiculousness in progress. Just like a cat that doesn't see it coming...

Just a warning: they will also walk into ANY unlocked door, so watch out residents!

Money doesn't buy class... or common sense

This is an easy one. Watch one of the Real Housewives shows... living, plastic proof. While we're on that topic, how are they dubbed housewives when many of them aren't married and have jobs?

A man attempted to flaunt his wealth in front of me tonight. Word to wise... this doesn't sit well with someone in my position. It should be noted that he just kept giving me answers to questions I didnt' ask. I have no idea what his profession is because I stopped listening, but it was fun to show how unimpressed I was. He told me he makes $250,000 a year. I said, "CONGRATULATIONS." He told me he drives a Range Rover and has some fancy something or other back home. I said, "EXCITING." He continued to go on and on about himself while I got some fake paperwork done. He then asked if he was bothering me. I responded, "Certainly not. It seems like you really need to get these problems off of your chest." Thank goodness people kept calling the desk because he eventually gave up and left.

I wonder what went through that guy's head. You see me at a front desk at 1:30 AM on a Monday (now Tuesday). Even if you don't assume that I most likely have another job, you should at least come to the conclusion that I am probably not making it rain (money... I can totally make it rain rain). What makes anyone think that I would want to hear about their miserable, paid for life. I'm not stupid, I'm sure he's lonely but Senor Money Bags needs to work on his conversation topics. An immediate remedy? Get a dog and join eharmony.

As soon as I get off of work at 7 AM I am free until 8:30 AM on Wednesday. EXCITING.

I'm not Asian... that's just my face.

Quite often I find myself in mid-conversation with a complete stranger when they pop the age old question..."Are you Asian?" Now, I don't find this offensive at all. I'm great with all things Asian. I've learned to have fun with this over the years by making people uncomfortable and of course exercising my imagination.

My favorite response to "are you Asian?" is usually "No, are you?" I like to save that one for the obvious non-Asian folks.

In recent years I've become quite creative. In a heartbeat I can create some rich back story and just when the story gets really good, I stop and fess up. However, the question still lingers. "But you really look like you might be somewhat Asian." Never fear people, compare me to someone who actually hails from some Asian background and you'll change your mind.

A few months ago a group of men came to the desk at a horribly late hour. This Asian talk started again. It may have been the massive sleep deprivation or the large group of douchebagery that had taken over the lobby but I came up with my new response. "I'm not Asian... that's just my face." This is always to be said with a straight face and monotoned voice, followed by an annoyingly animated smile.

I'm sure if you researched my history, ancestors, yadda, yadda, yadda... you'd come to the conclusion that I'm just a completely adorable mutt.

Delerium sets in.

Sunday, 20 minutes until I get off of work, and I should be banned from speaking to anyone. Delerium has set in and kidding around with folks has taken off to a whole new level... of weird. Our transportation service guy came to visit us at the desk this morning before his next pick up. He got to telling me a story of some extremely wealthy people who flew all the way to Charleston from Seattle just to get dinner. Insane! He then asked me what would I do with all that money? Naturally, in my zombie state of mind, I said, "Take a nap, buy a pet alligator, and set up a special school for Keebler elves."

Hoping I get to grab a quick nap before I do that to someone else.

Let the DRUNKING commence!

The Friday night after St. Patrick's Day. I think we all know how this goes... after 2 AM expect nothing but a shit show.

A woman comes to the desk at 2:30 AM and let's us know that her friend hit her head and they need to go to the hospital for stitches. Hit her head, you say? On the toilet, you say? This can only mean one thing... DRUNK!

"Mam, is your friend intoxicated?... Please don't just stare at me. I'm going to find out one way or another... Okay, well your crossed eyes aren't helping your case... You might want to stop swaying and laughing... never mind, I can smell her."

Intoxicated? Me thinks so! Case solved and our job is done.

It's 3 AM and the night is young. I may be back.

Fanny packs and pantaloons

The tourist season is upon us. Hectic? Yes. Annoying? You betcha. Entertaining? Entirely.

The one way streets, wandering kids, and horse carriage tours never make driving through downtown Charleston a simple drive to work. Tourist season can make a 10 minute ride into a 45 minute crawl. Let's find the funny.

On one street corner I counted SEVEN fanny pack wearers. I understand the concept but let's not pretend that they can be taken seriously. The repeat offenders wear some horrible neon visors... i.e. my mom, circa 1997. Carowinds was pretty embarrassing for me.

Yesterday, a tour guide for a church chased a couple down the street trying to convince them to come inside the church. She's a sweet old lady... has definitely lost her marbles. My boss pointed out something stuck in her knee highs. Pantaloons? Why, yes, of course. I'm certain she was friends with Ben Franklin so we can't harp on this disaster too much.

Yes, I'm dreading the entire tourist season but at least I've got a lot to laugh about.

My thoughts at 5:40 AM

It's 5:40 AM on Tuesday morning. I have an hour and twenty minutes until I can go home but knowing the morning crew... I'll leave 30 minutes late.

These are literally the thoughts going through my head. I've got a lot of balls bouncing around in there.

The word DEFINITELY does not have an 'A' in it. I'm not the world's best speller, but I did pass the second grade. Get with it people.

A man called the desk last night and asked if I'd help him navigate the porn channels... as enticing as that sounded, I not-so-politely declined.

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they ring a bell.

Horse carriage tours. I don't know why people pay for those ridiculous things. Almost everything is incorrect. Want some history? Read a book... or better yet, walk your butt around and take an actual look at history and ask some questions. Sometimes at job #1 (a historical landmark in downtown Charleston) I stand outside and wish I had a big red button to buzz every tour guide when they say something way off. It's one thing to be a few years off here and there but 90 years is a pretty big difference. Come on...

I haven't been grocery shopping in 2 weeks. Is it sad that I've been content with eating cereal for almost every meal?

I watched a little bit of "Too Young to Kill" on E yesterday. I've been thinking of escape routes in all types of situations in case some crazy guy lost it. Seriously, all situations; grocery shopping, at work, parking garage, at a stop light?

I worked two full nights by myself in the hotel this week. I was pretty lucky that nothing major happened. A man got really mad at me around 2 AM because the air conditioning was too loud for him to go to sleep. I love getting blamed for something I have no control over. I offered to move his room but he bitched about all of the bars on the street... it's also my fault that he couldn't figure out how to use the wireless internet.

I hate when people leave blue tooths (tooths or teeth?)  in their ear all day, especially when they are working. I want to yank it off their head, stomp on it, and say... I'm sorry I can't ever tell who the hell you're talking to. I just want to help you look like less of a jackass.

I hope I don't fall asleep in my work clothes when I get home. Yep, I get to sleep today.

Ah, the night shift...

Let me just begin by saying I fear for anyone's future who decides to spend their life working graveyard shifts. You will, without a doubt, become a zombie.

I'm currently working a second full time job auditing at a hotel in downtown Charleston, SC. I didn't purposely try to maim my social life and ability to sleep. I just found myself in an impossible situation and the bills have got to be paid. However painful it is to work so much right now there are endless amounts of hilarity that continue to come along.

For example, as soon as I walked in the door at 11 PM the phone rang and my co-worker, Vlademir, answered. The guest on the other end yelled out in his drunken stupor, "HEY MAN, I NEED A BITCH AND A BEER!" When Vlademir let the guest know that he couldn't help him with the issue, the belligerent jackass proceeded to tell Vlademir that he was some kind of prestigious guest of the hotel. The phone call didn't end well but this is when I imagine Seth Meyers from SNL come in with his segment "REALLY?!"

REALLY?! self-entitled some-level-of-membership-holder? I'm fairly certain you can take your 50 to 60 year old self out the door where tons of drunk bitches with beer can be found. This is Charleston, SC which is absolutely nothing like Vegas. And let me just tell you... when you call a desk at a hotel, all of your information is pulled up. We all know exactly how to judge you and if you're lying. Enjoy the rest of your night Mr. High Roller because your credit card has just been declined...

Saturday was fairly tame this weekend. Only 1 call to the cops, 3 bachelorette parties, and 2 screaming matches in the lobby. This is nothing compared to the naked hooker at the desk 2 weeks ago, the girl who threw the bell at me, or the man who spit dip out while screaming that I don't even know what college is... I can't make this stuff up. I know a lot about college. I'll be paying for it for then next 10 years.

This is just a tiny bit of what I want to share right now and just the hope that if someone reads this they'll remember to treat human beings just as that... human beings. I have no doubt that I'll have something crazy to add tomorrow...or today... or tomorrow, depends on when I sleep. I'll continue this for a while. I have to document something. I'm pretty sure my friends think I make all this craziness up.