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.