I was afraid the only item I’d have to talk about today was toothpaste. This would be the toothpaste Housekeeping has been instructed to place in rooms they clean on a daily basis. I’ve been saving mine for when I get too desperate and can’t afford to buy my usual brand. The tubes started piling up though, so I decided to try one. The tube read peroxide and baking soda. Ehh, I don’t know. Reluctantly, I put the boring white paste on the
toothbrush, and stuck it in my mouth. Blaah. Gross. Eeuw. The inside of my mouth felt like I had coated it with alum. Nasty, nasty, nasty. No wonder they’re giving them away. The manufacturer probably can’t sell them. I found a better use for it. Some of the tile grout was missing in the bathroom…
Praise God, they’re gone; the soccer teams and their chaperones. OMG. There wasn’t one staff member who wasn’t negatively affected by their rude, slovenly and loud demeanor. Word had already spread like poison oak on a camper’s butt about my confrontation with one of the soccer moms in the laundry room. Why didn’t I just deck her, or at the very least tell her where she could stuff her kid’s jacket? Because I decided to take the high road and just let the b….h use the dryer, hoping her negative karma would come back at her. Besides, I didn’t have any more quarters to spend on re-washing my hanging whites which were in her path. To top it off, thirty of them asked for late checkouts so they didn’t have to sit in the van after the game. Did it bother them this might cause the entire housekeeping staff to work late on a Sunday to accommodate them so the rooms they left in a shambles were clean for new arrivals? Nope.
I haven’t seen Squid in days. Where is he? He’s been in a foul mood since the beach reception he went to had already run out of lobster before he arrived. This sounds like a sacrilege and poor planning to me. I think he should go back and demand his lobster. I think I should go with him. Just to see to it that he doesn’t get a bad one. I’m just saying.
The thing about living in a hotel is that you can’t cook for yourself. I’ve begun to sprout feathers thanks to all the chicken I eat. I don’t even like chicken. I’d rather have salmon, but I’m at the mercy of the store’s chef where I buy my groceries. He hasn’t quite figured out yet that the reason his blackened salmon is not selling is because people like the other way he makes salmon better. I’m also sick of eating the same white vegetables and main dishes. I need greens like spinach sautéed in garlic and extra virgin olive oil. His kale is an acquired taste, and I haven’t acquired it, yet. Never will, either. Their green beans are horrible. And, that’s about it for variety.
Due to circumstances beyond my control, I haven’t worked out in the gym for days. I have already gained twenty pounds. Okay, not twenty, but it looks like it. Not only that, but I feel fluffy. Now, I’m afraid to get on the elliptical machine in case I’ve lost my former heart rate. I hate starting over. It’s so yesterday.
toothbrush, and stuck it in my mouth. Blaah. Gross. Eeuw. The inside of my mouth felt like I had coated it with alum. Nasty, nasty, nasty. No wonder they’re giving them away. The manufacturer probably can’t sell them. I found a better use for it. Some of the tile grout was missing in the bathroom…
Praise God, they’re gone; the soccer teams and their chaperones. OMG. There wasn’t one staff member who wasn’t negatively affected by their rude, slovenly and loud demeanor. Word had already spread like poison oak on a camper’s butt about my confrontation with one of the soccer moms in the laundry room. Why didn’t I just deck her, or at the very least tell her where she could stuff her kid’s jacket? Because I decided to take the high road and just let the b….h use the dryer, hoping her negative karma would come back at her. Besides, I didn’t have any more quarters to spend on re-washing my hanging whites which were in her path. To top it off, thirty of them asked for late checkouts so they didn’t have to sit in the van after the game. Did it bother them this might cause the entire housekeeping staff to work late on a Sunday to accommodate them so the rooms they left in a shambles were clean for new arrivals? Nope.
I haven’t seen Squid in days. Where is he? He’s been in a foul mood since the beach reception he went to had already run out of lobster before he arrived. This sounds like a sacrilege and poor planning to me. I think he should go back and demand his lobster. I think I should go with him. Just to see to it that he doesn’t get a bad one. I’m just saying.
The thing about living in a hotel is that you can’t cook for yourself. I’ve begun to sprout feathers thanks to all the chicken I eat. I don’t even like chicken. I’d rather have salmon, but I’m at the mercy of the store’s chef where I buy my groceries. He hasn’t quite figured out yet that the reason his blackened salmon is not selling is because people like the other way he makes salmon better. I’m also sick of eating the same white vegetables and main dishes. I need greens like spinach sautéed in garlic and extra virgin olive oil. His kale is an acquired taste, and I haven’t acquired it, yet. Never will, either. Their green beans are horrible. And, that’s about it for variety.
Due to circumstances beyond my control, I haven’t worked out in the gym for days. I have already gained twenty pounds. Okay, not twenty, but it looks like it. Not only that, but I feel fluffy. Now, I’m afraid to get on the elliptical machine in case I’ve lost my former heart rate. I hate starting over. It’s so yesterday.