Love those typo's

I've been saving this picture, because it's highly amusing and needs to be shared. I can't stand typo's in professionally printed type stuff. Proof reading isn't THAT hard, nor is 'spell check'. I'm aware I typo in my blog but I don't care, that's me, thats just stuff pouring out of my fingertips, and editing it is not something I have an interest in. Some days it's things like this one in a very widely distributed brochure that just tickle my fancy.


And yes I know, discocunt would have been even more amusing. What a shame.

More about the (non) smelly hippies

The hippies checked out today.

Their lecture (aka 'constructive' criticism) today was about apples.

We have a bowl of free apples on the front desk at most times (unless the vultures are particularly ravenous).

Smelly hippies like apples.

Apparently our apples have pesticides on it. Mr Smelly Hippy knows this how.... oh yeah, he claims to be a chemist with a super sense of smell (though admitted his naturopath told him, so yeah there goes that theory). He reckons the only thing in his diet that's changed this week is our apples, and they've left a 'metallic tang' in his mouth.

He then goes on to tell me how to remove this.... because you know... I care....

Apparently if you wash apples in a very weak solution of Hydrochloric Acid, the pesticide wipes off (if you make it too strong and burn ur intestinaley bits out so be it). Or alternatively you can wash them in Apple Cider Vinegar.

My apples are free.... for whoever wants them.... they're not signed as 'organic' 'poison free' or any bs like that. They're something for nothing... an added extra... to throw at the doctor each day to keep the fucker away.....

IF YOU DON'T WANT MY POISON FECK OFF AND STOP EATING MY APPLES.

PS I was going to post a hilariously funny typo/freudian slip but the camera has gone and grown legs and I can't find it....

PPS I don't usually rant but I'm sleep deprived and caffeine free... god I need a hit

It's bouncing off the fan

Yes, I left the shit bouncing off the fan tonight (and ran off into the night to enjoy my days off), but first I must tell about the smelly hippies.

OK they didn't smell. What they DID do though was to ask for a 10 litre water type container.
Purpose: To drive halfway up Mt freaking Wellington (where it's approximately -3 degrees) to the springs to fill it with water to drink. Apparently our slightly fluoridey water isn't good enough for them and one of the drinks more water than a camel... yeah sure, I care.

No container (no we didn't look for long). Dispatched the non smelly camel flavoured hippies to the service station to buy bottled water (they didn't see our 400ml spring water bottles at $2.50 for the bargain that they obviously are).

P.S. they also refused to buy Mt Franklin water (which was on special) because it's owned by coke. They were at a Shell servo, owned by Coles Myer... still supporting nameless, faceless gigantor company with questionable environmental policies weren't they? Twats

Back to the drama... yes I know I said it was quiet and teetering on boring, no I didn't expect the world to cave in.

It's still quiet, but as I arrived the database started playing the 'lets drop out at random moments' game. Fun, yet not tragic.

Scooted out the back with Chatterbox and threw everyone out of the database to try and reboot the server... usually sorts it out right quick. Looked at the server screen... looks like the system has just done a reboot... just in case we did another full one... just in case.

15 minutes of stability later.... splat, down she goes. Along with the internet, all emails and the network.

Ronald McDonald (Mr IT) is on his way to fix it. Just as well, because I can't currently check people in, print anything.... matter of fact really DO anything other than answer the phone that's not ringing (it's just as well I had good hair, looking good was about the extent of my capabilities)

Ronald arrives, informs me he's going to reboot the server. Told him I had the server password and we'd already tried that. He goes to do it anyway. I get the accusatory "How did you reboot it?" Duh, the right way, start, turn off, reboot. "Oh, it was showing a message of, Windows was not shut down properly etc etc" By the way Ronald when we went to reboot it, it looked like it had just rebooted itself then. (ie do NOT accuse me of being a knobgobbler, especially when that knob is ungobblable).

So he reboots, and it's ok for 10 minutes.... splat.

He fiddles with stuff, it's ok for 10 minutes.... splat

Lather, rinse, repeat.

It lasts 30 minutes... he thinks he's home and hosed and buggers off.

I call him 3 minutes later to tell him to get his ass back here, I am once again useless (more than usual). "be there in 10 minutes"

An hour or two later he saunters back in (insert surprised face here that he took so long).

I'm about half way through my list of 'must do' stuff, and can't even balance my shift at this stage or at the LEAST print a report to tell me who's in the hotel and what they owe and who's responsible for paying it.

The router gets shut down... it's working hard... seems extremely dodgy, no one's using the net or sending gigantic emails, ffs there's only 3 of us using anything computer related.

We smell a virus, or a hacker knocking on our back passage (without aid of lubrication, most inconsiderate). No more emails, no more internet til Ronald tells us we can have cheeseburgers again.

Managed to get the system up briefly so BigBadBazza and I go nuts printing out the 'must have' reports at rapid speed (at least now I know my work is done) and thanking Jeebus for telling me to post all the dinner stuff earlier so at least it's done.

I sidle quietly out the door, not knowing if the accommodation will post tonight, pitying the poor morning receptionist should things not be up and working.... what a poofight that will be.

And Ronald will be manning the grill again in the morning, and dropping the fries... and... well you know.... doing things Ronald McDonald does (I hope that doesn't include molesting small children)

While the poo flings off the ceiling in the morning I'll be toddling off up the east coast to my darling uncles shack to sit quietly in the wilderness sipping red wine (or listening to loud music while pouring wine rapidly down my throat, the second being more likely).


Oh and... some guests went to Port Arthur today. The mum came down to... ask me something?... I think.... then sent the son to the other side of the foyer to tell me what happened. I'd already advised her against the nightly ghost tours (which I love but was mildly freaked out by) as she said she was very much a clucker.

They'd done the cruise out to the Isle of the Dead (such a romantic name). Aka the cemetary. While out there mum swears BLIND she could see a face. Mum checked sonny boys' camera (this is where I get the goosebumps) and she can see a face in the photo. Creepy creepy place some times.

Randomness

Work has been oh so quiet.

No-one has misbehaved, done anything remotely stupid (apart from Dopey's left testicle attack), no hookers in sight, no dodgy behaviour, nothing amusing.

It gives me time to have thoughts like this:

• Why don't I like to wear socks that match. They can be the same style, and can be similar in design or colour, but matching is so boring?
• My car stereo - if I have the volume on any odd numbers it sounds utterly wrong.
• Why are the only songs that get stuck in my head the ones I just can't bear (or sometimes a song I like but with odd lyrics)?
• What IS my dog's obsession with shoes, socks, underwear (unwashed of course)? It just can't be good for his health.
• As for his other obsession (other peoples empty tins and boxes)... I understand the dog food, cat food, human food containers he likes to bring home after he takes himself for walks... but the laundry detergent box really did confuse me.

I guess I should just be glad it's Friday (yes I'm aware it's Monday, but remember this is a shift worker talking, it's Friday for me coz my weekend begins at 23:30 tonight!!). Which reminds me, should go make a quick suck up call to the uncle in possession of the 'shack' I want to cool my heels at tomorrow night.

I choose to post my new bitch boots.... here

• 
  

Sunday blotch (blog/bitch)

Definition of Bad Form:

by Dopey the part time receptionist.
Friday: Hi, I'm too pathetic and sick to work
Saturday: At work drinking for 4 hours....
can you spell fuckwit (she is now known as the furry left testicle (depicted below)
Other thoughts for the day:
I worked with real estate boys and girls for over seven years, never (apart from the urge to belt Bryan Bracken in the head with a rock) have I felt the violent urge like I did today to attack and maul (violently) the guy who came in to the hotel today (we're selling off the hotel rooms, don't let me starting ranting about that) , but he starts using my name like he's my best friend and I've spent less than 90 seconds being (barely) civil to the fucker. Do NOT use my name in vain. Never mind the fact it means fucking nothing to no one it's MY name, fuck off. (snarl, spit, hiss)

I bought the most adorable biatch boots last night, but I'm too pissed (I poured my own knock off drink) and too lazy to take a picture tonight, so bite me and suffer in your own indignation.


Freud Inventory Test Results

Oral (dependence) 50%
Anal (self control) 26%
Phallic (sensuality) 70%
Latency (learning) 63%
Genital (productivity) 63%

Oral: you appear to have a good balance of independence and interdependence knowing when to accept help and when to do things on your own.

Anal: you appear to be overly lacking in self control and organization, and possibly have a compulsive need to defy authority. If you are too scatterbrained, you will not develop much as a person as you will habitually switch paths before you ever learn anything.

Phallic: you appear to have issues with controlling your sexual desires and possibly fidelity.

Latency: you appear to be afraid or averse to present or future real world responsibilities, this will only make your inevitable transition more difficult, so learn to deal with the real world.

Genital: you appear to have a progressive and openminded outlook on life unbeholden to regressive forces like traditional authority and convention.

Freuds theorized that there are 5 stages of psychological development. At the oral stage the main issue is dependency, at the anal stage the main issue is self control, at the phallic stage the main issue is sexual identity, at the latency stage it's skill development, and at the genital stage its creativity and productivity.

Freud theorized that psychological problems are related to problems during one or more of these stages. For example, being too cared for or too neglected causes someone to be orally fixated, too much or too little control causes someone to be anally fixated, insufficient parental role modeling causes phallic fixation.

An orally fixated person is either irrationally dependent (expects what they want to just appear) or irrationally independent (always refuses help).

An anally fixated person is either irrationally self controlled and servile to authority or has no self control and is compulsively defiant of authority.

A phallicly fixated person is either a sexual compulsive (sexually innappropriate/promiscuous) or sexually repressed.

Freud did not classify any latent fixation but I think it is as plausible as those at the other stages. I speculate that people that like to learn and acquire knowledge without any purpose or people that are compulsively non curious represent both dysfunctional ends of the latency spectrum.

The genital stage is the final Freudian developmental stage and according to Freud people don't all succeed at this. Freud believed the ideal for human happiness is to be happy in love and work, problems in one or the other cause unhappiness.

Like any personality system, Freud's developmental levels are just a theory, so, be speculative about your results.

Bah, you make up your own mind, I like making up other peoples minds.

Does that say I'm an anal loving hooker what the hell???????

Forgotten the other (insipid yet important) things I had to say and it's approaching 4am.

Night y'all

Just Random Stuff

Sammy the wonderdog and his magical stick at Blue Lagoon Beach

Sammy the wonderdog in the (very cold) water among slightly smelly seaweed

Shake, rattle and roll
Buff Puff Doggy

Very authentic boat houses (so cute)
Islands that have been kayaked around (when weather was warmer)
A house I quite like to perve on

Classic Comments

Nearly forgot, Tom at work came out with a pearler last night. To whip it out (of context)

"I can't get it up... (embarassed silence) at home"

Me: hysterical and falling off my chair.

Context: the website for Dracula's restaurant.... oh well, will still store if for future reference.

Updates on hookery trust fund ex-men type people

OK, so today we got a comment from a guest... he'd been getting phone calls from somewhere random, most likely another room, from someone with either a very very deep female voice, or a male voice (with just a dash of femininity)... asking him "are you a dirty man? Can i come to your room for a few hours and we can be dirty together?" and such things.

I'd blame the lil asian hooker on the 5th floor, but she's pretty much feminine through and through and has never pulled a stunt like that in the month or so (in total) that she's floated round the hotel.

Which leaves LilKitty and her throaty voice...
and with it the succinct possibility that she's canvassing for business.

On the bright side.. I think she/he/it picked a good target. Single guy, travelling alone, slightly questionable poonciness... almost a safe bet!!

Stay tuned for more stories (coz god knows the one's tonight would bore your clothes off)

MORE suspicious minds, and teentards

Today I got given the most beautiful flowers I've received in recent times. Something of a surprise as they came from a couple of girls staying at work. Was slightly miffed as really had done nothing extraordinarily amazing for them (apart from cracking up laughing when they asked where the Louis Vitton store was in Hobart... we're one step up from a country town... Louis Vitton does not live here).

Felt kinda guilty for having the discussion of 'where do these girls get their cash from.'

Having asked for (and received unblinkingly) $500 cash from one that we'll call LilKitty. Most 25 year olds, hell, most people I know would blink, or at least have to get money out of the hole in the wall to dish out that amount of cash when it's not expected to have to be paid out.


The two most popular theories were either Paris Hilton style trust fund babies, or they remembered to charge people for the favours.

Then came a twist... CareBear (the Duty Manager) thought that maybe, although they currently appear to be girls.... they may have started life as males... LilKitty does have quite a deep voice... a very squared off jaw (neither unforgivable sins).. Decided to investigate a little further. Cash policy at work = photo ID + cash up front if there's no credit card to play with... bingo, I had LilKitty's passport.... it was an aussie one, sex listed as F, but the killer.... born in Bangkok.. birthplace of the shemale.

I await the girls coming to see me tomorrow so I can check the Adam's Apples and hand size...

Why is it that I attract transexual hookers... I must change perfume! Doesn't mean I don't appreciate the flowers though!


Now onto the attack of the teentards!
You know when a young guest checks in (MsBitch) (with 3 of her mates) and her bag makes the dull 'clunk' of alcoholic bottle on alcoholic bottle that there could be some 'issues' that night.

Thought nothing of it until the random phone call
Knobhead (friend of MsBitch): "Hi, can you tell which room I'm calling from"
Me: "Nope, sorry, not on this phone" (very inconsiderately calling me on the phone without caller ID
Knobhead: "Well the champagnes flowing and we're having a party, will you come party with us"
Me: "Some of us have to work for a living" (he was a drunk teen, I wasn't in the mood)
Knobhead: "OK well I'll call ya later and try again" (thus confirming my call of Knobhead."

Mentioned the phone call to CareBear as someone being that obnoxious is likely also noisy, probably worth doing a quick floor check.

19:26
Carebear: "Can you please note Rm 425 and the time, they've just had their first warning, they're our bandits, 90% sure"
Me: "Done... they gonna be trouble?"
Carebear: "Nah, they say they're going out, will recheck in an hour."

20:43
Carebear: "Can you please note Rm 425 and time again, they're on final warning... say they're going out, will be checking again in a few minutes"

20:44
Music in the G room across the foyer goes out, the engagement party going on downstairs are about to make the boring speeches

20:45
Hell breaks loose as every fire alarm in the hotel goes insane. My phone rings incessantly with people asking if they need to evacuate... I consider telling them to light a match and pray to Allah coz the flames from hell have arrived... but can't finish the thought coz of the bells, the bells, the bloody bells.
Poor CareBear is in charge of the hotel... BigBoss is off in Melbourne on days off, Boss2 is in Launceston getting loved up, Gossipy the Front office manager has rolled off to Burnie for the long weekend... the last words said to CareBear were 'just don't burn the place down'.... ironic..

CareBear has done a speedy run down four flights of stairs to check the fire panel, and scooted back up to bloody 425 (as that's the fire alarm that was lit up on the panel) and they've run off... door open, booze everywhere, belongings scattered). No fire, someone's (most likely) held a lighter up to the alarm then run like hell to get out of the hotel.

So the 150 people downstairs have shuffled out half naked into the freezing cold (the bright sparks at the engagement party are having their photo's taken in front of the fire engine... I was too busy looking for the hot one... to no avail).

Mr Fireypants gives the all clear and we all hoon back in to the warmth.... until we realise there's smokin in the restaurant... bloody fire alarms shut off all the exhaust fans so all the smoke from the wood-fired pizza oven is just waffling through the first floor. Someone whinges, we ignore him.. busy plotting against miscreants.

Starting with a preauthorised charge of $500 against lil MsBitch's credit card... no way the hotel will be paying the bill for that false alarm and we start plotting.

The end plan is very simple. Play it cool, play it calm, write it all up BUT note on MsBitch, Knobhead & co's room that the Manager on Duty ONLY has authority to check them out.. and explain that actions (no matter how idiotic) have consequences... unless of course they come back to the hotel rowdy rambunctious and full of piss in which case they'll be out on their asses at the first peep.

People.... weird animals huh.

Best Freebie EVER!

This is what I woke up to on Wednesday morning. After a lovely warm night of -2c (enough to freeze the nipples off any real person) the entire neighbourhood was covered in frost. This is NOT at 6am, or 7am but 9am... truly scary. As were the 16 car accidents that ensued (funniest one being the person that rammed the stationary police car with his lights on and the message thingy on the roof flashing 'slow down, slow down')

So of course being sensible people we cashed in a freebie and nicked off on a cruise.... well at least we had a day off together and it was still and not a cloud in the sky!

Piccies will ensue (OK, they'll take over now) but they really do speak for themselves, what a beautiful place to live and what a great freebie for me!! Gotta appreciate it when you get something for nothing that every other bugger has forked out $100 plus each to do.

Floaters (Comments, beer, cocoa pops and Vodka Chronicles)

There are times in our lives, when our actions seem insignificant... yet they just keep on coming up... just like a damn floater in the toilet they just don't go away.

I have several of them.

The First Floater

The Precocious Hospitality Brat. I spent my younger years trailing about the country with my parents who managed hotels. Accustomed as I was to restaurants I still had my moments (hey I was all of six at this stage). My best effort was two lines in one night... two lines I hear about often (when the fossils tongues are loosened by liquor).

"Where's the tartare sauce?" when my fish was dished up. So I liked tartare sauce and usually my fish came with it... oh well.

Followed by an order of Strawberry Mousse (which mum was adamant I wouldn't like... and she was right, it was rancid) but the manager of the hotel (who they were possibly trying to impress?) asked what I thought of it, and I came out with "it tastes like pink chunky dogfood." I still stand by that comment.. It was rank... but they're quotes that float.

Floater Two
Schoolies week (for those who don't know it's a time of drinking and debauchery and shameless late teenage shennanigans once high school is over).
After a heavy night of drinking (and snogging god only knows who.... well.... hopefully just snogging) I needed some breakfast.
I found the Cocoa Pops hidden behind a few slabs of beer. No milk... Don't know about you but when you have dry horrors you just don't make enough saliva to down dry breakfast cereal.... it's not possible.
Fossicking through the fridge I realised my alternatives were very limited.. a trip to the corner shop maybe? Nahhhhhhhhhh just not up to that one.
To the horror of the girls I opened the fridge, cracked a beer and poured it over chocolate flavoured rice bubbles.. and proceeded to eat it.
Thus began the urban legend of "Cocoa Pops with beer".

The Turd Floater (aka the Vodka Chronicles)
I rightly deserve this one. The girls and I were (once) frequent clubbers with early forays into Surfers "Paradise" to make the most of cheap drinks, then dance our booties off while the local Sea FM dj's took the piss out of us and gave us possibly more free stuff than we deserved... we were regulars, we expected it.

On several occasions... under specific conditions my legs would shoot out from under me. ONLY when partying with Maddcat, Sexbomb and Sexbomb junior (her little sister)...

The first time... we had tickets to a nightclub birthday celebration that Sexbomb had managed to win on the radio. Two free Bacardi Breezes on arrival... followed by several hours of complimentary beer, wine and champagne. Having coined all four of us some champagne, they ditched them and moved straight to Vino... I... hating to see any alcohol laid to wasted proceeded to finish all the champagne, and downed several more grape based beverages in quick succession (gotta make the most of the free stuff).

They very kindly still ran $2 drinks til midnight... just what I needed... Vodka to top me up (and/or tip me over the edge).

Oh did I leap over that edge. I somehow managed to enter a 'dance off' (thus proving I was drunk, no way in hell would I do that sober, I would have run to the bar for refills on purpose as my limbs would freeze at the very mention).

Also managed to win said dance off and a $50 drink card.... oh the glory... more free alcohol. Two rounds of shots later (plus two drinks in payment to the guys that the team had enlisted to cheer on my behalf once they realised free booze was on the line) all was cruising along smoothly.

The team then started to back out on me and headed for home. Feeling bulletproof (yes I was that drunk) I was talking to random individuals and was possibly approaching outta control... oh well. Several hours later (I think) I had somehow managed to dance with 'card shirt guy' (he was wearing a shirt with diamonds, clubs spades hearts on it) who Sexbomb junior had been lusting over most of the night... and some other random interlude which has now faded from my slightly retarded memory, I came to the conclusion I had been deserted and must now stagger to the hole in the wall to beg it for the money to take my very drunk self home. Wandering past "The Drink" I failed to notice a slight crack in the footpath.. and disaster struck. Left ankle went left, body went right, and not only managed to twist the ankle but also landed extremely awkwardly directly on top of it. Concrete is unforgiving.

Over comes 'Grey Shirt', the guy we'd had a fleeting lust over much much earlier at the start of the night, a true honey. He helped my (approaching teary but very wasted) ass up. With an admonition of 'maybe you should go home' well DUH that's what I was trying to do when my ankle decided to take a nap. Though to his credit he did help a very drunk woman up and was quite kind about it.

You know it's bad when you can barely walk and you'r in this state and instantly start to sober and feel pain (and whinge to the man when you get home that it hurts... whinge so much he breaks out the frozen peas, but DOES have the decency to be horrified when he awakes properly later that morning)

Made it home that night. Got up the next morning and looked at my leg in horror. I've sprained ankles before (it's a family thing) but my leg resembled that of a cabbage patch doll.
My toes looked like fat little goobers popping off the bottom of an extremely fat black and purple foot complete with a huge lump on the side of my ankle and charming bruises leading up both the inside and outside of my leg (yes all the way up to my knee).

Having galliantly made my own way to the doctor (just to see) I ended up off work for several weeks, on crutches for several more (much to my disdain) but mostly just laughing my head off at my own stupidity with my girls.

Another week (month or year) the same team was back in action... it was girls night. We even went to the extent of making the most of Sexbomb's connections, and booked a hotel room for the night. Straight from work we decended on the hotel and made short work of some vodka warmups. Not really thinking of it at the time but didn't bother to eat, and added some "V" to the vodka to ensure vitality.

Why... I'll never know... but Surfers Hell was rather quiet that night. Possibly it was too early for the kiddies to have surfaced? We trailed around a few assorted nasty clubs, and were heading back to earlier haunts due to lack of eye candy... Sexbomb discovered $20 (the cow) deserted and floating on yet another deserted dance floor... more vodka was drunk (I think). Wandering on the next club and rubbernecking at male eye candy (well it was there) the ankle decided it was time to party.... and went left, very nearly throwing me head first into the wall of the Prada shop. Shit... very unimpressed.

The team accompanied me back to the hotel (much to my chagrin) and ordered room service (and a bucket of ice for my offending foot). Other amusing moment of the night was this... Maddcat dissappearing into the cupboard to have some quiet/privacy/hide from the room service guy coz there were only meant to be two of us in the room... for nearly an hour.

I'm sure there was another vodka/ankle incident... but I honestly can't recall it (must have been only a minor strain)

Like I said... I deserve this one, hehehehehe. Safe bet it returns and is relived on my birthday in January (yes the dreaded dirty thirty.... which really only reaffirms my age, the rest is history)

Unfortunate Slobbery

Anyone who know's me also know's I believe in Murphy, because they know full well Murphy torments me.

Case in point:

Getting dressed for work yesterday... threw on a standard work flavoured ensemble with a lacy singlet under (to stop frozen kidneys from dropping onto the floor). I'd only recently exited the shower so didn't worry about putting a jumper on over the top (for the first time in 2 weeks).

Made a couple of stop off's on the way... had to do the bank/post office thing, so decided to grab a souvlaki while I was at it. Cruising along, not a care in the world til I looked down and realized I had great gobules of white yoghurty, garliccy sauce dribbling down my shirt.... really, it did resemble a... less than fortunate encounter.

I'm halfway between work and home now.... with white chunky goop running down my shirt... it's just not a good look (I feel like a hooker who took a hummer job on the way out the door).

I just know if I'd worn a jumper I wouldn't have dropped anything!

Can't get home and change.... must go to plan B.

Sneak into the back office at work (with my handbag hiding my adorable stain) while trying not to laugh hysterically at myself) but give in and tell my Front Office Manager (FOM) what happened. She of course does the obvious and nearly wets herself laughing (as expected). I grab my black jacket and do a runner for the staff loo's.

The lacy singlet under the buttoned up black jacket will do just fine (and actually gets compliments... go figure).

Then my story comes back to me from four different people (vaguely forgot that FOM is just a wee bit of a storyteller).

Then her hubby comes past (as he's been at the bar.... those damn friday arvo barflies.... they only bother me when I have to work and they're having fun!) and I get hit with the comment...
'I've asked J at the bar to put the heating up to 40 so I don't miss the next strip.'

Jeebus... you rock up at work with one suspicious stain and become famous..... go figure.

Suspicious minds

It's not unheard of that people answer the door to take delivery of room service in a state approaching naked, not really something we really take notice of... unless what's seen is something 'extraordinary'.... be it a good thing... or a horrid horrid image burned onto the back of your retina (my earliest memory of it being a 40 stone german feral man with moonglow white skin, black curly body hair like a gorilla and stained y-front's opening his room door when I was 13... obviously the last delivery I made for quite some time).

Last night however someone at work took notice. My favourite porter (we'll name him... Tom) came down to reception last night with the drool pooling in the corner of his mouth, jaw open wide and boy was he willing to offer his services.

It seems the 'lady' (yes I use that word loosely) in 203 had ordered a little something via room service. When asked how long it would take Tom answered (in his usual cheeky manner) 'long enough to have a shower.'

Seems she took him literally, and 15 or so minutes later answered the door in panties and something approximating a baby doll dress swinging just below the waist.

Which is when he made the comment to me of 'anything 203 needs, I'm her man' (never mind his partner... kids etc. The poor man was taken aback and the lower brain was well in control.

I went on dinner break and was relieved by BadBoy the Duty Manager. He has evil tendencies (we get on fantastically) and I had to reign him in from paging Tom and asking him to take 203 more towels (not sure why I did.... maybe because last week BadBoy told Tom he had to return a call to a lady... who was a hooker... just coz BadBoy was bored).

A coupla hours later Tom's doing his floor check (wandering about to make sure the hotel's looking it's sleepy best and all the peoples about are behaving) but he has another 3 floors to do. Being curious buggers we check to see whether he's been past 203 yet.... 'No'

We're timing him to make sure he doesn't get lost up there.

Five (acceptable) minutes later he comes down with quite a downcast look... like a kid who's dropped the lollipop.

203 (aka Babydoll) was in the shower.... again (yes he'd listened at the door)....

Why would a woman shower several times in 2 hours.... a good looking woman....

Further investigation required (me looking up her invoicing). She's local.... been here a few days... and paying cash.

Now I'm not saying everyone who pays cash in a hotel is a hooker, but this is how the logic goes (and it's been proven on several occasions).

People who pay cash are of two types... the anti-credit-card brigade (the terrible spendaholics.. me me me me me me.... and the ones who are just hiding something).

BB is a fine example... he's a uni student, who stays i a suite for several weeks at a time yet always pays in lumps of cash and is always seen with different men... uni student my ass (well his ass really, so it's his prerogative to sell it I guess)

Asia is another one... comes for 2 weeks (or should that be cums).. always pays in cash (and housekeeping watched 11 men come and go from her room one day before we kicked her to the curb (BB is more subtle).

Unfortunately for Tom Babydoll was a cash paye... and local... .ding ding ding, we have a winner.

He's looking for it and she's selling it, hehehehe.

I know it's mean to dash hopes like that but oh how I laughed.

Things that go 'buzz' in the night

OK so it's an unoriginal way to start, but this was a popular story (back in the olden days of yesterday or the day before) but due to popular demand this story starts..... here

I only found this story out because someone rang work looking for lost property.

Then proceeded to go burko at me for not ringing him to say 'hey you twat you left your unnatractive jacket in the room you vacated an hour ago."

I asked the porter to look for said jacket.... to no avail.

Duty manager asked if I was worried about it... to which I replied 'hell no, but I'd much rather someone rang in to collect the vibrator that got left behind in November.... I've been waiting for MONTHS for that thing to be collected" (even tho 90% of crud left behind is left behind).

Then 'K' the duty manager dropped a great story..... which goes like this...

Some cheapskate guy wanted to impress his girlfriend, (this takes place before my time, in the time of crap front desk peoples, but never mind that) and he wanted to put food and stuff up in the room... so they let him.... but he didn't come back/register as expected. Hotel was busy, his room was sold on.... the people who took it rang down to ask 'wtf is food doing up here' like good (disorganised wanker type) people apparently the food was whipped outta the room.

Mr Impressive rocks up some time later... checks into (another) room.... comes down to reception with most quizzical confused face.... "where's the food"

"Well sir you didn't register by 6pm so your room was sold and the food is out the back in the kitchen... would you like it brought up to this room"

Mr Impressive: (blushing) "Well no, that's not the big deal... the worry is more... who's in that room... coz I brought a gift for my girlfriend and it's still up there...... it's a vibrator."

oh dear....

We've sold the room... to a family of 3... and there's a new vibe snuggled between the mattress and the base.... don't know about you but that's PLATINUM stuff (too good to be gold).

Poor K has to find a reason to get into this room... feel around under the bed... and sneak out a (new and yes packaged still) vibrator.... without the guests knowing wtf is going on...

She stumbles upstairs, red faced and carrying towels on the pretence they needed fresh ones....

And dammit was rewarded with a room with no guests (the buggers had gone out)

but ohhhhhhhhh what a rush.

Gotta love hotels!!!