tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9096435918977536732024-02-19T02:12:51.799-08:00A Series of Uncomfortable EventsThese are just some thoughts and observations on all my random encounters with people, the ins and outs of common decency and mostly where to find the humor in it all.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-39945778048324875772012-11-27T09:18:00.002-08:002012-11-27T09:19:32.973-08:00Student Loans - Forever to Thee
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My dear student loans, forever to thee<br />
All that I ask is that I be free<br />
You’re a pain in my ass, a rock in my shoe<br />
You’re purely the cause of my financial flu<br />
The amount is astonishing, your interest I do loathe<br />
Sometimes it’s amazing that I can still clothe<br />
Took advantage of my youth, now you’re a traitor<br />
Young, naïve me thought “I’ll just pay it later”<br />
Now I am grown and lessons have been learned<br />
But in this poor economy, there is little I have earned<br />
The hand has been dealt, to the future I do stare<br />
What is left to do but continue to forbear!</span></div>
A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-78452839084153852202012-01-21T19:16:00.000-08:002012-01-21T19:16:27.071-08:00My Quarter CenturyMy 25th birthday is fast approaching. Twenty days to be exact.<br />
<br />
Turning a quarter of a century is slightly getting to me... to my very core. It's not a big number, I know. I'm just coming to the realization that I never set any goals for myself by this age. Therefore, I have not achieved anything. Of course, I haven't not achieved anything either. So in conclusion I have achieved not being an underachiever. Well pat me on the back and throw a parade. I think I'll celebrate with the cheapest beer and eat Ramen for dinner... again.<br />
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I like to think that if I made decent money I'd be where I want to be. What the hell does that mean? I'd really like to be on a beach somewhere, looking good, and silently judging passers by (shut up, you know you do it). Did I ever really have a dream? I've been searching my memories for interests and hobbies lost in hopes of finding something... a glimmer of talent? I don't think that's the right word.<br />
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I know I was a mediocre piano player. I like to blame my piano teacher, Mr. Woodward. He had the voice of Ben Stein, smelled a little funky, and stared at the wall when he spoke. It's safe to assume he was scared of me, a young child.<br />
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Sports? Well, I was there. As a short, chubby white girl... I had no hope.<br />
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I'm not disappointed in myself. I work hard and I've done whatever it takes to make ends meet. Perhaps it is that never ending desire to please your parents. Well, that desire is a bitch... and I'm going to kick her ass eventually. Until then, I'll tell myself I'm awesome, hang out with these wacky friends I've made in Charleston, and turn 25... in my classic, ungraceful fashion.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-78043748206761735942011-10-11T07:01:00.000-07:002011-10-11T07:02:39.301-07:00Pumpkin Ramen OverloadWow, 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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...<br />
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..."he's some kind of Asian."A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-85096285417657305032011-08-27T14:03:00.000-07:002011-08-27T14:03:43.734-07:00Shopping Cart CrusaderI 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.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
I've had to add to my general outing rules this week.<br />
<b><u>Restaurants:</u></b><br />
- 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.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Hotels:</b></u><br />
- 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.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Grocery Stores:</u></b><br />
- Extreme Couponers: Quit clearing the shelves. I'm pretty sure there is somebody else in the area who would like some mustard.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><i><u>*New*</u></i></span><br />
- 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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>something</i>. I dubbed myself "cart return volunteer" and then "awesome."<br />
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Being an experienced veteran of the brutal hospitality industry, you find yourself going out of your way to <i>meet and exceed expectations</i>. 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!<br />
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Maybe I should find something more important to preach about...A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-30518449373774200082011-07-23T19:21:00.000-07:002011-07-23T19:25:57.124-07:00Ligers 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.<br />
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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!<br />
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<i>Switching gears...</i><br />
<br />
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.<br />
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Hmmm, a Christmas movie on television in July? It's only natural that I watch it. Until my next awkward observance...A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-36897600414781217522011-07-13T07:38:00.000-07:002011-07-13T07:38:13.750-07:00It's a Smelly ScorcherThere 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.<br />
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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 <i>please don't die in here. </i>It may be morbid or a little insensitive but I'm just saying... I don't want any dead bodies on my watch.<br />
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I can really smell the horse crap today...A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-45616800199325220682011-07-09T19:57:00.000-07:002011-07-09T19:57:32.651-07:00Is 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?<br />
<br />
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!<br />
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<u><b>This week's dilemma:</b></u><br />
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 <i>just maybe</i> 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.<br />
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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.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-53574404259440524272011-06-28T02:26:00.000-07:002011-06-28T02:32:57.501-07:00Last Night in ZombielandIn about 2.5 hours I will officially be done working at the hotel... I hope I'm not dreaming.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUg6BV4p24zEYfOigyTAZS2Rb5qZUaDCwJFmx05pVaw0NKE80FRGR-nGhyphenhyphenF2z1pE9dpzwHFmPSZPGn9qfKUmH__IF3ubUO2IxHOXNJLXVCeSxhlpaaH_DT9OCNQxpzHZmRT_z3OUwrSLQ/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUg6BV4p24zEYfOigyTAZS2Rb5qZUaDCwJFmx05pVaw0NKE80FRGR-nGhyphenhyphenF2z1pE9dpzwHFmPSZPGn9qfKUmH__IF3ubUO2IxHOXNJLXVCeSxhlpaaH_DT9OCNQxpzHZmRT_z3OUwrSLQ/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSoPJfAeXvFUmv8Z52C003W7JIbmylo6SxgnsFIfNq33rQ0rU09d8AsqRM9d_ubrf7BxT7l-M896fF0d6ScVZ2mOW1iFUSwpPe-sftTlNRexZUQGOfyf2v25LOWpBvB6cn57irOMgakS2/s1600/photo+%25282%2529_opt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSoPJfAeXvFUmv8Z52C003W7JIbmylo6SxgnsFIfNq33rQ0rU09d8AsqRM9d_ubrf7BxT7l-M896fF0d6ScVZ2mOW1iFUSwpPe-sftTlNRexZUQGOfyf2v25LOWpBvB6cn57irOMgakS2/s1600/photo+%25282%2529_opt.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">My experience in this zombieland hasn't been all bad. I definitely have some stories and an unreal tolerance for <u>NO</u> sleep. I would now like to reflect upon some <i>skillz</i> and habits I've acquired in the past 11 months:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">- Top notch incident report filler-outer </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">- Real good calculator user</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">- Ability to give self excellent paper and folder cuts</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">- Confesses love to Jimmy Johns employees at 1:30 am </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">- Random Bible swiping</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">- A developed hatred of cookies</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Every time I hear the ding of a bell... well, I think you know.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3UMSZUptXJjtrcYGkSgglNEy1HljrZLbiAqnTX_ZzAFIQBwwM04t6s8EeWpbs5GhiITZtQlP-trbTTz_FqiTBQ1ApOIalw_mWpMziE2zTqL4_hkvSLdnLBTCazcgCaI2xBULEjs0cJriC/s1600/photo+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3UMSZUptXJjtrcYGkSgglNEy1HljrZLbiAqnTX_ZzAFIQBwwM04t6s8EeWpbs5GhiITZtQlP-trbTTz_FqiTBQ1ApOIalw_mWpMziE2zTqL4_hkvSLdnLBTCazcgCaI2xBULEjs0cJriC/s1600/photo+%25281%2529.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Goodbye, bell. I'll miss you most of all!</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
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</div>A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-58654657070164817862011-06-22T13:57:00.000-07:002011-06-22T13:57:36.719-07:00The ConversationWith 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.<br />
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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....<i> <b>the conversation</b></i>. 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."<br />
<br />
<u>My reaction was either: </u><br />
A) "Well, if <i><b>you</b></i> must know, I'm trying to purchase my own items!"<br />
B) "ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?"<br />
C) "Oooooo, do tell more! I'd love to hear about the world's worst flavored ice cream!"<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-72740912994952500102011-06-19T10:40:00.000-07:002011-06-19T10:40:06.668-07:00Those Sneaky BastardsFruit... 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.<br />
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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.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-71534580922680158772011-06-12T00:30:00.000-07:002011-06-12T00:45:39.887-07:00Holy 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!<br />
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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?<br />
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I have a few confessions to make. I'm feeling bad about some things solely due to the <i>heebie-jeebies</i>. 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.<br />
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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 <b><i>sleep</i></b>.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-88448527227314882392011-06-04T02:55:00.000-07:002011-06-04T03:02:22.170-07:00Ah, The Weirdness of PeopleWhat 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.<br />
<br />
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 <i>The Father of Cool</i> (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...<br />
<br />
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."<br />
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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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-159395120403812012011-05-31T02:13:00.000-07:002011-05-31T02:26:21.704-07:00I Hope Moron Ain't ContagiousYou 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.<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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 Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-43830934232547578572011-05-28T00:07:00.000-07:002011-05-28T00:09:37.100-07:00A Money-Slingin' PantherWow, 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.<br />
<br />
Enter extreme sarcasm/bitchiness. They go hand in hand at this point.<br />
<br />
"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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
The random drunk guy laying on the bench hollered over to me after our "football player" left, "Why didn't you take the money?"<br />
<br />
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.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-77372967571455569132011-05-24T03:41:00.000-07:002011-05-24T03:41:37.842-07:00Some Unfortunate HappeningsWell, 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.<br />
<br />
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.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-34610003787133173802011-05-18T22:01:00.000-07:002011-05-19T07:22:13.259-07:00My KryptoniteI 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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
So, there you have it folks. My kryptonite... wet cash.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-84833700507203000662011-05-18T00:02:00.000-07:002011-05-18T00:15:28.926-07:00Yay, 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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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!"<br />
<br />
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.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-66753870417337756812011-05-16T22:23:00.000-07:002011-05-19T07:25:34.588-07:00When Sh** Hits the WallFor 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
An AFR? <u>A</u>ccidental <u>F</u>ecal <u>R</u>elease<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">YES IT HAPPENS</span><br />
I've got many witnesses of a full on coniption of mine from last year.<br />
<br />
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: <br />
<ul><li>It will happen</li>
<li>It will be where it's least expected (yep, believe it)</li>
<li>I will probably throw up more in 17 days than I have in 17 years</li>
</ul>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.<br />
<br />
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:<br />
<br />
1) "I CRAPPED ON THE FLOOR"<br />
2) "I CRAPPED ON THE WALL?"<br />
*This one has a question mark because I can't even begin to understand how that happens?!?!*<br />
And my all-time favorite:<br />
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"<br />
<br />
In conclusion, let the grossness begin.<br />
<br />
P.S. I'm a little sad that so many of my stories revolve around poo.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-17233724427564055852011-05-16T03:32:00.000-07:002011-05-19T05:29:35.436-07:00Summing Up Some Things That Don't Correlate... As UsualSunday No Fun Day<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
On to the next job!A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-44391656860270993962011-05-14T04:02:00.000-07:002011-05-14T04:29:34.421-07:00Night Creatures...Remember this guy....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nLesWheOFah-aG9w8QsGjePZ15z0W-s_txbjj0rjm6hEN3BOhAGm-qMqsKHnNTq81eECiiBdvnn8NhNXFos3S0P3D04XCoNlGnchv8O6buEy3sz0w1vNsStg6F_Cb49_TMN5ltdIJkdM/s1600/michael-jackson-in-thriller%255B1%255D.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nLesWheOFah-aG9w8QsGjePZ15z0W-s_txbjj0rjm6hEN3BOhAGm-qMqsKHnNTq81eECiiBdvnn8NhNXFos3S0P3D04XCoNlGnchv8O6buEy3sz0w1vNsStg6F_Cb49_TMN5ltdIJkdM/s1600/michael-jackson-in-thriller%255B1%255D.png" /></a></div><br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!) <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
"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.A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-87989165343191927082011-05-05T10:23:00.000-07:002011-05-06T12:38:06.523-07:00"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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Literally what he looked like every time he spoke, hee haw:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3PBrLZfUpOcWeJbW6QkUvQZWZHT9DLRDsms7_U9WeI7mRATEtnFeq81BcqpCCk-pI_kd8GXI4ZqzNsEaDuZ9VA8bjdyzmdhn-77YrzUVipRgPNKLaERU28cEJtYfB9t4ML6WrJg_jb5B/s1600/protectedimage%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw3PBrLZfUpOcWeJbW6QkUvQZWZHT9DLRDsms7_U9WeI7mRATEtnFeq81BcqpCCk-pI_kd8GXI4ZqzNsEaDuZ9VA8bjdyzmdhn-77YrzUVipRgPNKLaERU28cEJtYfB9t4ML6WrJg_jb5B/s320/protectedimage%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-2966120886712432202011-05-02T02:47:00.000-07:002011-05-02T02:47:46.283-07:00Bittersweet SymphonyWow, 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.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
<br />
Cue "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve<br />
<br />
Ira, Lee, Mikey, Stephanie, and Mary-E:<br />
<br />
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 ;)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZrJ_V5OE7rfcqmd6q9TfQzjQJBuKDRrGPetyh5J-jvzybOiB9DU-TO48Kc1GZOE6cfOc2yIpjy5RKT_HxmoSXW_pgahP9HPYZCplamiXwtajBGKtYlbWV1Fi896Eu_-FvDaQiFi7yM0w/s1600/RA%2527s+last+day.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZrJ_V5OE7rfcqmd6q9TfQzjQJBuKDRrGPetyh5J-jvzybOiB9DU-TO48Kc1GZOE6cfOc2yIpjy5RKT_HxmoSXW_pgahP9HPYZCplamiXwtajBGKtYlbWV1Fi896Eu_-FvDaQiFi7yM0w/s1600/RA%2527s+last+day.JPG" /></a></div>A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-89578615445436325082011-04-30T23:59:00.000-07:002011-05-01T00:00:26.004-07:00Serenity 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! <br />
<br />
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:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCbCpZ7GKr8GUsoBYcqnIC7eLG8hlKsaEEzKcNZ9aJ0QciBI49qHWUZfab6_EZ2nEGvTK4MRubZA2OSKJTCjtDY9H0fuMaG1iBIUvUY7_tZZj_sPGVCvgSQDdTZG4C0tmYR_d-Sj5VfBJ/s1600/1304231547_angry%252520bird%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCbCpZ7GKr8GUsoBYcqnIC7eLG8hlKsaEEzKcNZ9aJ0QciBI49qHWUZfab6_EZ2nEGvTK4MRubZA2OSKJTCjtDY9H0fuMaG1iBIUvUY7_tZZj_sPGVCvgSQDdTZG4C0tmYR_d-Sj5VfBJ/s1600/1304231547_angry%252520bird%255B1%255D.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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)<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9X4H76hQTVEvqK8BrXHQeE_9cdvt6Hi-mrR_grNxHbVkjABcJx2uYRi7og9bIkubpaSr5Q7SfumrwHwuDyaaSYp5lpXxNqLiusuK9Q2Pr4PqwVwU921c0xNiF69qSjzHvoiCQh9xrX38/s1600/serenitynow128632889741551260%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237px" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9X4H76hQTVEvqK8BrXHQeE_9cdvt6Hi-mrR_grNxHbVkjABcJx2uYRi7og9bIkubpaSr5Q7SfumrwHwuDyaaSYp5lpXxNqLiusuK9Q2Pr4PqwVwU921c0xNiF69qSjzHvoiCQh9xrX38/s320/serenitynow128632889741551260%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div>A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-29370095289723977192011-04-29T13:34:00.000-07:002011-04-29T13:34:38.458-07:00Thinking-Out-LoudnessI 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:<br />
<br />
"I've got blue on my face"<br />
<br />
"I can't believe Dracula is coming back... that's awesome!"<br />
<br />
"I don't have eyes on my ass!"<br />
<br />
"I want to take advantage of people..."<br />
<br />
"What's that smell? I can taste it."<br />
<br />
"Let's go loquat picking"<br />
<br />
"What Cityville? Do you feed the homeless?"<br />
<br />
"Do the stairs go up?"<br />
<br />
"Wow, you're really beating me with that X."<br />
<br />
"Why would you say you don't know if that's a word? You know when people say I got kicked in the gnads?"<br />
<br />
"It's greasy because I just ate steak... not that kind of steak, I'm heterosexual."<br />
<br />
"There's someone out here, I don't know if it's a man or a woman and I need your help."<br />
<br />
"My britches are falling down."<br />
<br />
"No! We're going to eat it! Why would you waste good sugar?"<br />
<br />
"Look at the wiz!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sitting here with my blue beard on, watching cuppy cake boy for the 5th time and I feel totally normal..."A Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-909643591897753673.post-71761798523871116662011-04-26T03:02:00.000-07:002011-04-26T03:02:11.827-07:00Some Lines That Rhyme About My Favorite Morning Road NaziTo the thing that does the street sweeping<br />
You keep these stupid, young ladies weeping<br />
I've warned them of your power<br />
But the look they gave was sour<br />
Because they were picked up by guys that were creeping<br />
<br />
Their cars were blocking the road<br />
And you had to lighten the load<br />
Now they'll have to pay the fine<br />
Nobody listened to the advice of mine<br />
So the street doesn't smell like a commode<br />
<br />
He surely is a keeper<br />
The towing toll isn't getting cheaper<br />
We'll keep him around<br />
To clean up the town<br />
That righteous old street sweeperA Series of Uncomfortable Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06031728693135575893noreply@blogger.com0