the strange planet inside my head
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oh, it's the strange planet for a reason
part II .... no one was arrested, and the drapes were returned to the cleaner (who is out $8000.) the Phucktard signed an invoice, so maybe they'll still be able to get their money out of him.
i wish them good luck with that.
****
again with the laundry, but i'm not whining anymore. i also told the GM i can't stay if i don't get four days a week. i told her the only reason i took this job was for the benefits. she said she'd take care of it, and she meant it. i'm pretty sure. we'll see. if not, *i'll* take care of it.
*****
we have a little riding lawn mower! it's so cute! the knight delivered it today while i was at work, and my plan friday is to fire that baby up and putter around the yard with a sun hat on my head and a cocktail in my hand. oh, yeah, that's high living, so it is.
this relieves a huge amount of angst over who/how to get the grass cut. it's expensive to have someone come out -- $25 a shot, and you can stretch it to once a week, but still, that's $100 a month. it takes these guys like, ten minutes with the monsters they straddle, but gas is dear these days.
anyway, this is a little one, and handed down by generations, it looks like, but if it runs it's ninety bucks well-spent.
i've never ridden or driven a riding lawn mower. this should be very interesting. who knows, i may move up to a harley after this.
heh.
****
i talked with one of the guests last night who was waiting for his son-in-law. turns out he's a DWTS fan too, and he and his wife used to cut the rug before she passed away. we dished about that for a while. after his son-in-law got there, and they went to their room, he called me a couple of times to give me updates and i'd run into the fitness room to catch a couple of minutes.
too funny.
****
and tonight, a young girl staying here chatted with me for a couple of hours. yes, HOURS. i now know more about her life than her mother. srsly. how does this happen? i don't ask people anything. just, you know, hey, how are you, still raining out there? next thing you know, i'm up-to-date on the drug addicted useless ex-husband she can't quite cut loose, and the history thereof.
she's a good kid. smart, pretty, and fucked up.
*sigh*
****
i'd forgotten how much of a fishbowl hotel life is, even when you don't live on the premises. this is enhanced by the long-term nature of most guest's stay. some people are here for months, and one person has been at this hotel since it opened, almost a year and a half ago.
anyway, the knight stopped by to drop off the key to the lawn mower and to tell me the delivery went fine (there was a little trouble making the arrangements; it's a guy thing.) he was only here about five minutes (or two kisses, heh.) a couple of hours later, one of the LT peeps comes down and asks for an envelope. i said, sorry, don't have any, they're in the GM's office and that's locked up. he laughed and said, oh, i'm sure you have plenty of envelopes, your husband's a mailman! and he chuckles, on his way to the elevator.
like he KNOWS.
gah.
****
whatever.
****
well, it's late and the Shittard is trying to fake me out and pretend he needs to go outside. he doesn't; he's just fucking with me. he pees a little, then has to sniff every single bush he can find. it's dark out there, and wet; he rolls in the grass and farts around. the houses around me are all quiet, except for a strange clanking sound from the modular across the street. i can't figure out what that sound is, and the wind soughs through the wet, new leaves. the Shittard stands at attention, looking at the same house i'm looking at, like he's wondering what that clanking noise is, too. it's rhythmical, and i shiver. i try not to think of the slasher movies i've seen, and i try not to think of how close to east st. louis i actually live. i try not to think that it's two o'clock in the freakin' morning, and here i am with wet feet waiting for a four-legged critter to do his business so i can go to bed without getting mugged, jacked, or worse.
like aliens coming to get me, or something.
WHAT IS THAT NOISE??
fuck.
like i can go to bed NOW.
sheesh.
****
see how i just freaked myself out? yeah. that's why it's the strange planet. duh.
;)
Check out TSB for the most legal fun you can have with your clothes on.
i wish them good luck with that.
****
again with the laundry, but i'm not whining anymore. i also told the GM i can't stay if i don't get four days a week. i told her the only reason i took this job was for the benefits. she said she'd take care of it, and she meant it. i'm pretty sure. we'll see. if not, *i'll* take care of it.
*****
we have a little riding lawn mower! it's so cute! the knight delivered it today while i was at work, and my plan friday is to fire that baby up and putter around the yard with a sun hat on my head and a cocktail in my hand. oh, yeah, that's high living, so it is.
this relieves a huge amount of angst over who/how to get the grass cut. it's expensive to have someone come out -- $25 a shot, and you can stretch it to once a week, but still, that's $100 a month. it takes these guys like, ten minutes with the monsters they straddle, but gas is dear these days.
anyway, this is a little one, and handed down by generations, it looks like, but if it runs it's ninety bucks well-spent.
i've never ridden or driven a riding lawn mower. this should be very interesting. who knows, i may move up to a harley after this.
heh.
****
i talked with one of the guests last night who was waiting for his son-in-law. turns out he's a DWTS fan too, and he and his wife used to cut the rug before she passed away. we dished about that for a while. after his son-in-law got there, and they went to their room, he called me a couple of times to give me updates and i'd run into the fitness room to catch a couple of minutes.
too funny.
****
and tonight, a young girl staying here chatted with me for a couple of hours. yes, HOURS. i now know more about her life than her mother. srsly. how does this happen? i don't ask people anything. just, you know, hey, how are you, still raining out there? next thing you know, i'm up-to-date on the drug addicted useless ex-husband she can't quite cut loose, and the history thereof.
she's a good kid. smart, pretty, and fucked up.
*sigh*
****
i'd forgotten how much of a fishbowl hotel life is, even when you don't live on the premises. this is enhanced by the long-term nature of most guest's stay. some people are here for months, and one person has been at this hotel since it opened, almost a year and a half ago.
anyway, the knight stopped by to drop off the key to the lawn mower and to tell me the delivery went fine (there was a little trouble making the arrangements; it's a guy thing.) he was only here about five minutes (or two kisses, heh.) a couple of hours later, one of the LT peeps comes down and asks for an envelope. i said, sorry, don't have any, they're in the GM's office and that's locked up. he laughed and said, oh, i'm sure you have plenty of envelopes, your husband's a mailman! and he chuckles, on his way to the elevator.
like he KNOWS.
gah.
****
whatever.
****
well, it's late and the Shittard is trying to fake me out and pretend he needs to go outside. he doesn't; he's just fucking with me. he pees a little, then has to sniff every single bush he can find. it's dark out there, and wet; he rolls in the grass and farts around. the houses around me are all quiet, except for a strange clanking sound from the modular across the street. i can't figure out what that sound is, and the wind soughs through the wet, new leaves. the Shittard stands at attention, looking at the same house i'm looking at, like he's wondering what that clanking noise is, too. it's rhythmical, and i shiver. i try not to think of the slasher movies i've seen, and i try not to think of how close to east st. louis i actually live. i try not to think that it's two o'clock in the freakin' morning, and here i am with wet feet waiting for a four-legged critter to do his business so i can go to bed without getting mugged, jacked, or worse.
like aliens coming to get me, or something.
WHAT IS THAT NOISE??
fuck.
like i can go to bed NOW.
sheesh.
****
see how i just freaked myself out? yeah. that's why it's the strange planet. duh.
;)
Check out TSB for the most legal fun you can have with your clothes on.
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