We're All Winners In This War Of Hate

Uh, let's see. PTO-ians, "Silver Elite" Members, people who pay in cash, what do they all have in common? They all piss me off and I would like to see them barefoot on the pavement on a hot summer day at high-noon. And yes, occassionally they all gather in one place [ie. lobby] at once and produce mass hysteria, which of course, as you two know, gets my hamsters' wheels turning inside my head.

As fate would have it, weekends for me at the hotel are astronomically disastrous. In fact I like to call them Legendary Saturdays. As a general rule of thumb, as long as I'm working a weekend morning it is bound to rain hell, blood and guts all over me. I'm no Bjork, but I've seen it all! It's not so much that the hotel is packed to capacity, because in fact, it tends to have less people during this time. But, oh my, what people they are! They reek of bargain-hunting.

Oddly enough Legendary Saturdays are not confined or restricted to weekends and thus can happen any day of the week. To describe this sort of day, I find my friend Murphy to be far more eloquent than me. Most of Murphy's sinister laws were apparently molded to conform the behaviour or situation of a bad day in a hotel. What? I didn't know Murphy worked in a hotel!
These are all true, and they most certainly do apply.

Variety of Murphy's Laws:

• If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.
• If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.
• Friendly fire - isn't.
• If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which something can go wrong, then a fifth way, unprepared for, will promptly develop.
• Teamwork is essential; it gives the enemy other people to shoot at.
• Try to look unimportant; the enemy may be low on ammo and not want to waste a bullet on you.

Everyone Can Thank Kat Von Bitch For This...

That's all I got to say! And that she's obviously lying.

Kimberley Vlaminck

http://www.geekologie.com/2009/06/star_face_girl_asks_for_3_star.php

How Much Fun Is This?!

Yes, I know. It's probably a block-head idea to TP your supervisors car. But what better way to say, "Hey Face. We love you. Thank you for being YOU"?

Don't Trust The Grass . . . That's Where They Sleep

Everyone knows. And whoever doesn't is about to find out. I don't like worms.

And I feel even THAT may be a bit of an understatement. I absolutely and positively loathe worms. Any worm? Yes. But more specifically, earthworms. Gag!

Call it a phobia, call me a wuss, call me being insensitive to the Good Lords creation. I don't care. They are nasty and vile. My disgust is such that the very thought of even killing one is enough to make me bend forward and expose my lunch on somebody's shoes.

Maybe it's that burning memory of a younger cousin chompin' down on a tiny black worm while it was still alive. (I'm feeling nauseous already...) Or maybe it was that story that I was forced to read as a single-digit grader, about a boy who's friends dare him to eat worms, and then he eventually LOVES to eat them. That story is just devastating for a child, let me tell ya'. Whatever it was, it scarred me... For life.

Living with a disabilty is not easy. Looking like a fool when it's pouring, trying to avoid worms, and squealing every time I spot one writhing and slithering and drowning. (For some reason I must always cover my mouth with my hand as tightly as possible when I see one.) Having your boyfriend give you the look of death when you scream just because "IT'S MOVING!".

And you know who makes it worse? Maury Povich!

Yea, that's right! I said it!

Maury Povich is the most horrible human being in the mother effin' Milky Way. Why? Because he gives retards like me FALSE HOPE!

I'm sure you've seen the show. People with "bizarre" phobias. A dude who can't bear the sight of peaches. A lady who runs away from cotton... All examples taken directly from MP episodes, most of which you can find on youtube. I'm not saying or even suggesting that these people actually had or didn't have the phobias, but as a person who can understand their range of exaggerated reactions, I can certainly relate. What I cannot relate to is the fact that this man, this apparent "saviour", claims to be able to, thru professional therapy, cure these people permanently from their respective phobias... In 30 minutes! And how do the experts claim to "cure" these people? By exposing them repeatedly to the element that sparks their fear.

Whoa! Whoa! Wait a minute! I've been exposed to worms... Repeatedly... For over 30 minutes... No professionl therapy, but exposed nonetheless. And if I've ever been cured of something when I see a worm is a twisted ankle, 'cus believe you me, I will run and skip and dive to the safety of my apartment in a heartbeat. For the love of cheese, I've made death threats! Not only that, but looking back, I can honestly say that I would've unremorsefully done so... had it come to a worm and it's non-porous, shiny, disgusting band of friends.

MAke WAy for....

ME, bREAKErHiGh! Coming soon to Tadpole Says... (stay tuned).

NEWSFLASH: The Fuckin' World Officially Sucks

Fuck this world! Yep, fuck it! This time I mean it. Except the animals. The animals are cool, man. And my family. My family is the best. But everyone else, I have a little something to say to you.

You are all part of the "axis of evil" that Bush-shmush was talking about. I don't care who you are or where you're from. The planet is dying, the economy has gone up Shit Creek, and social networks, pfft, don't even get me started on those. How can it be social if you're typing into a box full of metal scraps and electricity? (I may be contradicting myself here, bear with me. Let's face it, this blog is a joke and the only way that I would be communicating with anyone through it would be to slit my wrists, use my blood to write "tadpolesays made me do it" on my stomach and then throw myself off the Empire State Building for everyone to see.)

MEN, or should I say MAN, provided that there's only one of you reading this. [Shout-out to I-browz] Men, let me tell you something. You will never be happy. Let me repeat that. MEN, YOU WILL NEVER, EVER, EVER BE HAPPY. For as long as you live, or as hard as you try. Why?

You will never be satisfied with the woman that you have by your side. You can be the ugliest mo-fo in this entire world and if you have Kate Beckinsale as your girl, trust me, you'll fuck that up. On the other hand, if you have Jane Schmo, she's not that bangin', but she loves you... Start saying your good-byes, 'cause you're gonna mess that one up too.

"She's too fit/She's too fat. She doesn't drink beer/She's an alcoholic. She never wants to cuddle/She's a sex-maniac. She talks too much/She doesn't communicate with me. She's too argumentative/She always says 'yes' to my needs. She's too clingy/She's too independent". Point is, you wouldn't know what's good for you if you had to gestate it for 9 months and then give birth to it. And then you have the indecency to say "It's not you, it's ME". Like we don't already fuckin' know. You bet your grand mama's house it ain't US.

Now WOMEN on the other hand you will never make a man happy. SEE MEN. They are virtually unsatisfiable. So you might as well have the time of you life with one that hasn't broken down yet. It's hard to let go when they do, though. This, however, doesn't give you free allowance to be acting like a bitch. You remember when being bitchy was cute?

"Oh, he does what I tell him to. Go get me popcorn! Hee hee." Well guess what? Those days are long and gone. You can't get away with that shit anymore. You're not young and bubbly. Actually you've gone quite flat.

It's time you start to treat a man like an individual and not an extension of yourself. He's not your pinky toe or your dog. So stop being a cunt and give him some respect or he's gonna find it somewhere else. That, among other things. I wonder who you will blame when you realize that all those insults and de-humanizing attitude towards him drove him into someone else's arms.

And You STILL Wonder What I Mean. . .

This is one of the reasons why I think technology for the masses is a bigger waste of time than putting an ashtray on a motorcycle.

People (useless ones) have the the ability to send other people (who are busy with important shit) things like this from one cellphone to another:

Everybody, gang, I'd like you all to meet Gus. You can thank him later for the nightmares.

Holy Shit, I'm Late . . .

. . . For my own blogs birthday!
(What? You thought I was...? Hah! Funny...)

I believe at some point of December of 2008 my "little-blog-that-couldn't" turned one years old!

Can you imagine? One year of ago I put all my hope and enthusiasm into creating a blog that would unite sadists and sarcasts everywhere in the 22314 zip code and within a 10-mile radius. One year of false hope and destroyed expectations.

A vision that Jubble-U associates would feel relieved upon knowing the fact that another associate's self-esteem was getting bludgeoned by a guest at the same time.

For this not special anniversary edition I will update one of the stories that severly marked my life. An excerpt from that post:

Twenty minutes after their 'huff-n-puff' departure, they called our hotel demanding directions after they made a wrong turn. And if you guessed that it was me who answered this bitch's call, then you get the point of this blog! Ranting on and on about "this" being "fuckin' ridiculous" and "a joke", she barely paid attention to my questions as I was trying to locate her sorry-white-trash-ass-family in their sorry-white-trash-vehicle. I asked them to stop the car and give me a the name of a shop, I asked them to give me a street name, I asked them about a specific, larger-than-life hill that they would definitely remember going up on. She didn't give me any worthy information. Am I dragging on too long? Am I getting my point across? Well I'm glad you noticed, because Mrs. Smith didn't get it. After she announced she was seeing a "green car wash at Kingstowne, please tell me I'm headed in the right direction." She wasn't.

Funny story, really. It gets worse, though. Two weeks later I tried to celebrate my 24th year on this god-forsaken planet. And if you consider "celebrating" as blowing chunks on the bathroom floor, then I had a blast. Quite graphically.

And now for the update, and this is completely true as reported from my spies . . . As it turns out, the family actually made it to the other property. The lady was in TEARS! Booyah!

Nobody calls me 'fuckin' stupid' and gets away with it!

You're 20-what Now?

Happy be-lated 20-something birthday, Cesar!!!!

A night out to Hunan and Bailey's can be so destructive for the human being...

Heavy drinking and 7-Eleven cupcakes!

What more could you ask for?

(No, she wasn't interested. Either of them. We tried...)

¿Dónde está Debbie? Debbie Está Down...

Before I begin, I'd just like to say I DO NOT BLAME OBAMA.

What I'd like to know is when did everything turn to shit. I'm fuckin' serious! Who took my hatred and my optimist-pessimism and turn it into acute depression? Was it you, you fuckin' guests? No, it couldn't possibly be. I ignore you. Everything you say. It's true that you often blow my last nerve and wipe your ass with it, but then you've always done that. And I have managed, every single time, to wipe my ass back with the memory of your stupid smug face. Oh how silly you look begging for "compensation". A cold shower never killed anyone. GET OVER IT! Petty beggars!

So I find myself wondering, could it be my colleagues, my bosses? The current economic situation that is basically forcing me to push back my release date from the hotel? Let's face it, I won't be job hunting for the next year or two. Who knew that a bachellors degree in advertisement would be about as useful as a screen door on a submarine?

But back to the question on the slab here. Who, oh who is responsible for this moping and grunting and feet-dragging? This hissy-fittin', the random cursin, and over-sleeping? Is it the fact that my boyfriend says things like "Why do I have to show you and tell you that I love you if you know I do"? Not only that! He honestly believes, deep inside the chest cavity where his heart should be, that this is a perfectly valid and understandable question to ask.

Granted, he is a man. But I should state in my defense that this is not how I met him. He worked just fine. Fully funtional. Touchy-feely, raunchy-freaky, and this was while we were out in public. I know that when I first got him it said SATISFACTION GUARANTEED somewhere. Is he broken? And if so, WHERE IS MY RECEIPT?

Gruesome Twosome Halloween Party 2008

This past October 31st, my colleague/supervisor/friend Daralynn and I, organized a small Halloween party which was far from the "garnished" and decorated vision that we had wished for. I can safely say that at least 67% of the people there were having a blast. That is, AFTER we had emptied about 4 bottles of rum, including our two $65 bottles of 12 year aged rum. OUCH!

Captain Morgan showed up for the party!

Showing off the delicious Puerto Rican rum.

The fellas show us how it's done. Uh, let's see. We got the Captain, a mobster, Hancock and Robi Rosa.

Detective Anthony Celia investigating the spiked punch.

Ah yes! The party had it all. Girl on girl rubbing...

...Bloody murder...

...Drunken superheroes...

... And some flip-offs.

Well, you don't see this type of bonding every day.

The people not having fun.

Not having fun.

Well... Maybe!

Did you spike the punch, bitch!?

Facial adjustment.

Peace to all and death to wolves.

Thriller-dancing B-boys showed up, and pretty much harassed their way into some pictures.

You can tell I was GONE!

Captain Morgan refused to open that bottle of rum. You'd think he can just pull a new bottle out of his ass whenever he wanted to, right?

After I fake-shot Daralynn in the face for being late...

... I couldn't handle it. So I shot myself. From this point on, whoever took my camera had a blast.

Hookah TIME!

Chimney!

Here, hold this for me.

Into the wilderness with the B-boys!

It hurts!

Hey look! Male on male contact!

'Cause this Is Thriller, Thriller Night

Oh the fun!

Cruisin' Puerto Rico With Daralynn!

Yes indeed! And to prove it, I brought back pictures. Enjoy!

Con·de·scend 101: (kŏn'dĭ-sěnd')

Con·de·scend

Pronunciation - (kŏn'dĭ-sěnd')

1. To descend to the level of one considered inferior; lower oneself.

2. To deal with people in a patronizingly superior manner.

Condescending 101: Your guide to patronizing.

(1) First, set the tone. Literally!

This is a very important first step. Basically without this very particular HIGH pitch in your voice you will just be saying words. You must emphasize certain words in a sentence as it is coming out of your mouth. And which words are to be emphasized varies with every sentiment. Saying "I hear you went out tonight" is not nearly the same as saying "SOO, I hear YOU WENT OUT tonight! And that you GOT HOME PRETTY LATE."

(2) Second, establish your dominance.

Remind your subject of their position. Exactly beneath you! Let them know that you intend to retain the position of "Hang-out King", that you were 'here' first and that you've "been there, done that." If you can pull off being extra assholish, even better! Remember, the bigger you make yourself out to be, the smaller they will look in comparison. Say things like, "that bar you went to is a piece of shit [scoff], I don't know WHY you went there. I usually go to [insert better bar here]". Or even "that drink does absolutely NOTHING for me. I had like 7 [emphasize the seven, when possible use hand] and I WAS STILL STANDING [wave arms around].

(3) Question the subject's judgement.

This is a tricky one. Condescending is an art of stealth, guerrilla warfare if you will. Being sly. You strike, you pull out, and you hide behind the innocent defense of "it was only a question". For example, "SO, did you ACTUALLY like the drink?". No matter the answer to that question you must ALWAYS re-emphasize your opinion. "Well I don't like it. I think it's just a bunch of juice, ice and like 1 tablespoon of rum. Terrible!".


(4) Finally, top it all of by resonantly denying the whole thing!

That's right. You may think all efforts to reign supreme have been lost to denial. But your opponent will feel not only paranoid but you'll show 'em who's boss. You will leave them with a heavy weight in their heart that they will never shake off. After all, you need two to have an argument!

And word to the weak. DO NOT under ANY circumstance feel guilty and apologize later for being a jerk. What's the point, really? You've already gone out of your way to position yourself on top. Now savour the fruit of your labor. Ahh! Doesn't that taste like shit?

Happy Birthday, Leo!

Leo

July 23 - August 23

Personality-

Ego first, second and last with a Leo. If only they'd stop to realize that the world doesn't quite revolve around them as much as they think it does. They are so full of themselves that others are taken in and can build up quite a following of psycopaths and hanger-ons. This only helps bolster their already over-inflated sense of worth. They think any job they have is a career. They fail to notice how bad their lovers are because they're so busy watching their own performance - and that's what it is, a performance. They do love to tell everybody else what to think. They are bossy, dogmatic, opinionated and conceited. Trouble is, their opinions are always biased, subjective, unfair, based entirely on their own experiences , and short on facts. They have poor taste in clothes, as they think yesterday's fashions are still today's. Who's have the nerve to tell them though? They don't pay attention to detail. And do you know why? Lazy, that's why!

In Love-

What a showy little dog this one will turn out to be. This one will run and run - for about a week. You see the Leo is destined to be hurt in love, nay, tortured, dismembered, torn apart. They bring it on themselves. If they could learn to keep their trap shut for five minutes they might just hang on to a lover. But they don't. They do love to change, criticize, to tidy up, to argue with and finally, to drive away. It's in their nature. It's in their genes. They fall in love with the most horrendous unsuitable people; emotional cripples, too young, too old, too tall, too poor, already married (lots of this one),wrong gender, wrong planet! They seek a white knight in shining armor who will rescue them from their current love affair which has invariably gone horribly wrong. Then when you do saddle up they'll play frosty and tell you that you've arrived at the wrong time,wrong place, or with the wrong color armour. You'd think they'd be greatful to have someone to be rescued by.

In sex-

They can be tigers or they can be pussy cats, indifferent or overdemanding, turned off or turned on - you don't get an in-between with them. They are either ripping your clothes off or leaving them well alone. They either want sex ten times a night or not at all. Their idea of a good night of sex is you worshipping them, looking after their needs, servicing them, satisfying them, performing for them. Notice anything missing there? Good, because they won't have.

In business-

Like the African lion that they are named after, they are fat and indolent, cowardly and very lazy. They think they are good at business but how could they possibly be? They have no staying power, no endurance, no money and no ideas. In business, as in everything else, they like to be in control. God knows why, they're hopeless at it all. They make lousy parents as well as lousy business people, entertainers, singers, dancers and PR people. They make good show-offs, though. If you are resolved to employ one, make sure everything is nailed down or insured or replaceable or retrievable or expendable or disposable. If you didn't get it by now, they break stuff. They don't understand computers and cause them to crash. They deny this.

Miscellaneous-

+They won't go anywhere quietly. They can't sit through a play without talking or a film without being an unpaid highly vocal critic.

+They like to think they are raunchy, daring slightly dirty sorts of lovers. Thruth is they are tame, boring and un-adventurous.

+They make bossy office managers.

***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald.

The Bad, The Worse, and The Clinically Insane:

Welcome to another edition of

Mini Stories for Suicidal Motivation!

If you still haven't made the decision to end your tragic and pathetic life, then I obviously failed miserably at my mission. Lucky for me that, if in fact you are alive and reading this, I get to take another whack at your barely-there-faith-in-humanity.

The Bad: The Man on the 8th floor

On one occasion, we had a high school soccer team staying at the hotel. A particularly uneventful evening was in motion. The phone rings from a room on the 8th floor, and the voice states that there were two grown men yelling at each other from either ends of the hall. No physical altercation apparently, just yelling. We send Peter, the 6'2" houseman to investigate but as expected comes up empty handed and no one's jaw to bust. And so the night continued. Until . . . A man with greying hair approaches the desk and asks very simply: "Is there anything that you could do to a guest who has been very rude to another. Like, punish them?". Aaaah! Music to my ears!

The guest who asked had apparently been bullied by another guest in front of his children, and so like a good father and in the spirit of setting the example to his kids, he wanted the hotel to take on his side and do something, of the revenge-sort, to the other guest. Now don't get me wrong, I'm all up for casting deliciously, sweet and agonizing revenge on someone who deserves it. But, gees, at least ask me AFTER I'm done with my shift. Trust me, I know all about rude guests who deserve to swerve off the road and down a rocky cliff to meet their demise.

The Worse: Smith

These hicks walk into our hotel, two little brats, approximate ages between 5 and 7, walking behind them. Now I wasn't here for the actual check-in process, but I am told that they paid in cash. This was in the time of our shift-change. Imagine my surprise when I walk in to the hotel lobby and see an entire family parading themselves in bathing suits. FYI, WE HAVE NO POOL! *sigh* I knew these people were trouble. The family claimed they had seen our homepage and that they had seen pictures of a pool. After our manager popped out and explained that we had no pool, the idiot who thought himself a rational, logical, thinking human being says this little gem: "I called that number on the screen and it connected me to YOU people and YOU people told me you had a pool". Mind you he was pointing to the homepage of our sister property Pentagon South. And guess what? They do have a pool! So it's obvious that this monumental jackass had called the wrong property when they clearly had reservations at ours. The story, sadly, does not end there. They were reimbursed full price; reservations were made for them to the other property and those came complete with a nice OUTLINED map, turn-for-turn, of where they were heading. Twenty minutes after their 'huff-n-puff' departure, they called our hotel demanding directions after they made a wrong turn. And if you guessed that it was me who answered this bitch's call, then you get the point of this blog! Ranting on and on about "this" being "fuckin' ridiculous" and "a joke", she barely paid attention to my questions as I was trying to locate her sorry-white-trash-ass-family in their sorry-white-trash-vehicle. I asked them to stop the car and give me a the name of a shop, I asked them to give me a street name, I asked them about a specific, larger-than-life hill that they would definitely remember going up on. She didn't give me any worthy information. Am I dragging on too long? Am I getting my point across? Well I'm glad you noticed, because Mrs. Smith didn't get it. After she announced she was seeing a "green car wash at Kingstowne, please tell me I'm headed in the right direction." She wasn't. And I let her know. Her response? "Ugh! Whatever! You're fucking stupid." SHOCK!
I will stop my story there because what happened after she insulted me is neither here nor there. But lady, if you are reading this, and I hope you are, I just wanted to remind you that your children were in the back seat of that car. And that all your vile insults and your astronomical idiocy and unnecessary cursing can only do so much good for those brats. They will be as foul and dirty and as condescending as you are. No smarter, more important or wanted in the world than you.

The Clinically Insane: Griffin

On a lighter note! This person was a repeat guest. Not quite enough to make him a Platinum, which is why he ended up in this section. Well, this man talked about himself in the third person, which I think kind of rocks the awesome a little bit. Here's what is not-so-fly about him. He claims to have trained me. To do what? "Hey Debbie, what do you do if Mr. Griffin reaches for a cookie?", I'm quick to lean over and fake-smack his hand with a pen and yell "POW!" as he squeals in delight. I guess I am trained, if you count reacting to verbal stimulation. One day, however, he snatched a cookie right before my eyes, immediately bit it half-way and started waving his head sideways yelling "Aaaargggh!" batting his arms beside his head like crack addict all the while clenching his teeth around the oatmeal raisin sphere. Truly a sight to behold.

Happy Birthday, Cancer!

Hey crazy crab . . . You're up!

My first memory of the Dara-face, a.k.a the Philippine tarsier, is when she signaled me to come behind the front desk on my very first day of work at the hotel. We have one of those doors in which you must punch a 3-number code to unlock the door. So I ask her what the code was and she says 2-4-3. I try it, door's not budging. I try it again, swing the handle - nothing. One last time - 2 - fuckin' 4 - motherwhore 3! To no avail. Finally I straighten my back, which had been crouched towards the keypad. 'It's not working'. 'Bua-ha-ha-ha-ha!' - she laughs at me. As I should've known, she had deliberately given me the wrong code. Clever she is. Thank you, Dara. For everything.

Cancer

June 22 - July 22

Personality-

Because Cancerians have no life of their own, they just love to hear about other people's problems - and they are gullible enough to think they might be of some help. They think they have exquisite taste - but their style is old fashioned, dark and boring. They will get fat no matter what they eat. Their idea of a good night out is a dinner party - at their own house.

Clinically they are agoraphobic although they invariably claim they are merely home-loving. Basically they are unstable, bordering slightly on the barking-mad. Not interesting-mad like Aquarians, or dangerous-mad like Scorpio, but scary-mad; you wouldn't want to be alone with them when they go off their trolleys. Think bunnies in boiling water, think a knife across your throat while you're sleeping. Yeah.

Don't let them too close or you'll regret it. They claim to be intuitive (they spy on people), protective (they smother people), cautious (they are afraid to take risks), sympathetic listeners (they just want your gossip) and imaginative (no sense of reality). Cancers are moody and will snap at you for no apparent reason. To get back in their good side you will have to really humiliate yourself, go down on bended knee and bed forgiveness, promising them you'll never do it again. The reason for all this is they are simply control freaks.

In love-

Whatever you do don't make the mistake of looking bored or as if you're not listening. They hate to be ignored. When it comes to love, they hate not to be taken seriously. They make a pretty big song and dance out of anything to do with love - poetry, flowers, gifts, romantic locations, rings, body language, signals - you've been warned. If you value your life don't forget any anniversary.

In sex-

Now you'd expect them to be prudish, cautious, sensitive, delicate, discreet, straight-laced. No way. They are dirty little things. They keep their desires pretty quiet until they've hooked you and then they'll go berserk and expect you to perform all manner of bizarre and down-right deviant acts of sexual depravity.

Once the first flushes of lust have worn off for them they'll switch all their attention to gardening and leave you alone completely. Or they'll take up some bizarre sport such as tennis and insist you play as well instead of having sex. Cancer and sex is all kinds of extremes. Extreme lust or extreme tennis. But you'll never know which - so don't get any ideas.

In business-

Cancerians work well if you give them lots of direction, orders, rules, rituals, things to fetch and carry - otherwise they are bossy, arrogant and self-opinionated. You can never tell which sort you're going to get before you employ one. If they work for themselves they are highly methodical, excessively neat, unbearably tidy and organized. They color-code everything and make endless lists - they even have a list of their lists. In business they do quite well servicing other people - organizing dinner parties, organizing tours, counsellings - that sort of thing. They actually do quite well in a funny sort of way. They can earn quite a lot of money - all of which they spend on themselves or on their over-large brood of excessively cute kids.

Miscellaneous-

+They are weak, pathetic, emotional limp rags. They wear their heart on their sleeves and by golly isn't it a wet one.

+They like to make love by the river, country house, hotels, exotic hideaways. Once there, they will be busy taking notes on the decor while you're busy trying to satisfy their insatiable needs. +They often don't have to work at all as they marry rich spouses or inherit wealth or just find it on the street.

+Their homes have too much velvet in them.

***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald.

A Letter To Mimi

Dearest Mimi,

No, not you my sweet little Courtyard Snail. YOU! You filthy whore. I just recently lost a ridiculous amount of respect for the news chain CNN. I'd always found it to be a bit of a stretch to go from considering the development of the current five-year war news and to considering Miley Cirus's name change "news". But hey, there's people who are interested in this kind of smut. Idiots, nonetheless.

So to make this brief and unpleasant I would like to say, Mariah Carey, it doesn't matter if you realize or not that your "sexed up image" makes you look "ditzy", because the truth is you're a fucking sell-out slut. And being aware of it will never change that, or change anyones perception of you. In fact, because you are aware of this and you refuse to do anything to change it -rather, you choose to 'intensify'- it makes you look even worse. And I can hate on you all day, girlfriend. But at the end of the day you are your own worst enemy. And there is no amount of foul-wishing on my behalf towards you that will ever cause the amount of harm that you do to yourself.

Cheers!

PS - For the rest of you unfortunate souls reading this who don't know what I'm talking about . . . CNN actually used the following headline as "breaking news".

Mariah Carey: Sexed-up image makes me look 'ditzy'

Story Highlights

• Carey tells magazine she's always had low self-esteem
• Says she'll marry again, to someone who understands her
• Latest album "EMC2" to be released April 15th

Happy Birthday, Gemini!

Happy Birthday to the bestest of bests! I loves you Pimp Daddy!

Gemini

May 22 - June 21

Personality-

For Gemini, life is just one long game. It has no reality - they see it all as a movie or a computer game. They'll steal and lie and cheat - just so long as they look good and appear on top. They have no morals, no ethics and will reach the top. They'd sell their granny if they could make money on her. They also like to talk about themselves rather too much. Because they all suffer from split-personalities, there are two of them to bore you to death with all the details of their cons and tricks and swindles. They think all the stunts they've pulled off make them somehow more attractive, charming, alluring.

You'll often find Gemini in exotic places where it suits their mood exactly - modern, loud, dangerous, open to deals being struck. They are restless people and often end up living abroad - mainly to escape. Escape tax, the police, the landlord or people they've conned, abused or upset. Bouncy.That pretty much sums them up. Always on the move. Always selling, plotting, planning, shceming. The reason? They're too afraid to sit still for long in case the world catches up with them - or themselves. They are frightened of the big stuff, the deep stuff - which is why they spend their lived on the trivia - the buying and the selling.

In Love-
When the Gemini falls in love doesn't everybody have to hear about it. And all the gory details! They do like to dominate in a relationship. Any partner is in for a cruel awakening when they realize they are going to play second fiddle to a jumped up little dictator.

In Sex-

Think prude. Think old-fashioned. Think holding hands. It's all a bit boring, a bit sad, and a bit wet. They like to think they're faithful, and according to their own curious code of conduct they are. God help if their partner if they stray though. All hell would break loose around them. No one betrays a Gemini and gets off without a sound ear-bashing. But that's as far as it goes. They rant and shout but they aren't violent.

In Business-

They are happy as long as they can talk - and they will talk to anyone about anything, and all of it is pure gibberish, total nonsense. They invariably have no qualifications for the job they do. They will have talked their way in of course. They feel they have something to prove all the time. The weight of the chip on the shoulder is enormous.

Miscellaneous-

+Don't expect them to read books about relationships, they don't see any need to change anything.
+Whatever you do don't employ one. They will steal the office furniture out from underneath you - and then sell it back to you.

***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald.

Nobody can smack a tush

quite like he can!

Random Rants of Stupidity

Look, I don't smoke, ok?

But when a smoker asks you "do you have a smoke?" dont throw around your "superiority" by obnoxiously answering "I dont smoke."

Are you deaf motherfucker? That's not what they asked you!

Seriously, a simple no will do the trick just fine AND you won't be categorized as a self-righteous fuck-face. In fact, I will go the extra mile and say that it's admirable the fact that they are bold enough to choose their own death. Or rather, non-chalantly increase their odds, because, damn it all, I dont know how I want to die! And at least they know how they wouldn't MIND dying.

My point is the following: Learn how to answer what has been asked. Keep it simple too. 'No', 'yes', 'I do not know', 'go fuck yourself'. Nowadays idiocy is too common amongst human beings.

Don't Be Selfish, Dammit! And Don't Judge Me!

Upcoming Events by Eventful

Exciting May!

So far, May has been the month with the better kick-off. Even though that fact is true, it still doesn't mean that it's been a good one.



MOTHERFUCKER! I forgot to pull out the two cans of Coke from the freezer!

This is what I first saw! FUCK!!

As I reluctantly started pulling out all this Coke-shat items from the freezer it occurred to me to start taking pictures to share with all four of you!

The two carcasses belonging to the felons who decided to freely explode onto my food.

"I will drink thine blood!". OK no, not really.

Mr. Jägermeister did not mind the icy cool mix of frozen Coke. I have to admit it must taste amazing together.

Upon further inspection, it does look like the cans got a massive case of diarrhea.

Adbeel helps us visualize a shit-containing refrigeration unit. "Eeeewww!!"

More explosion residue and proof that global warming is real!

Slurpee! Gross, but an interesting alternative for clean-up nonetheless!

And so, what have we learned today children? Out of every misfortune, something reusable and salvageable and new will be gained. Sobriety is an ailment that we must combat at any time and by any means necessary. Even if it means you must allow two cans of pop soda to suicide-bomb the contents of your freezer you will succeed in finding the usefulness of the situation, whether it be the fact that you will FINALLY get rid of the goddamn leftovers, or that you found those drumsticks you bought five months ago and can feed yourself for tonight with something other than ramen noodles. Personally, I have now tasted and come to love the wonderful taste of Jäger and Coke, I'm certain long after some jackass did. But this jackass never told ME! And on this note I end this post with only one thing to say: Thank you for exploding in my freezer.

Happy Birthday, Taurus!

To all you greedy drunks, cheers! Fugly colors, by the way.

Dear Martina the Cockroach,

I wish to you the happiest of birthdays. May you live in harmony and at peace with your fellow equals - human beings. Some day we will meet again and share memories of our childhood together. And please don't ever forget who you are. La Flaca Fea. [Translation- The Skinny Ugly girl]. Much love!

Taurus

April 21 - May 21

Personality-

Taureans like others to think of them as refined, and experts when it comes to food and drink. This is just a cover, they are in reality a glutton and a drunk. They care nothing for culture, it's all a matter of getting quantity rather than quality, although they do make a good job of fooling most people. They are greedy both for oral satisfaction and material wealth. No one can quite accumulate quite like them. They can also do a nice line in fake environmental concern - they really couldn't give a damn just so as long as they know it all. They have too many close relatives.

They like to think of themselves as oak trees with their roots firmly entrenched in the soil of their earth. Yes, they are like oak trees; unable to move, easy to get struck down in storms, big, ugly, strong and stupid. They feel threatened a lot - so they tend to barricade themselves in behind security devices, barbed wire, gun turrets and arrow slits.They think everyone is out to rob them. We are.

Don't ever ask one of them what they think.For a start they'll tell you and tell you in blunt, plain old fashioned words. Boy, do they have a mouth on them. Shut them up or they'll bore you forever.

In love-

Can you imagine the lenghts they'd go to, to avoid falling in love? Love is sloppy, messy, risky, time-consuming. Once they do fall in love you'd better hope it ain't you. They will stifle you, lock you away, smother you with tacky gifts, suffocate you with attention and affection. They think having lots of children will keep them safe from being dumped. They have a particularly claustrophobic approach to long-term relationships - you aren't allowed out of their sight.

In sex-

They do like to plot a seduction though and will ponderously go about it. But finesse, charm, grace? No, these are not words they will be familiar with. Exaggerated, theatrical, overexcited, now that's more like it. Think bulls rutting. Think cows being mounted. Think bovine. Think big. Think all over in a second.

They don't like to thwarted in their love interests and will pursue somebody long after they've been given a clear message to back off. They don't take hints so you will have to give them the brush-off with real brushes, or boots. They are immune to subtlety so you will have to spell it out to them in simple words: 'Go away, I don't wanna sleep with you, you are repugnant'. There, that should do it, hopefully, but it might be a bit too understated for them.

In business-

They all think they can be gardeners, farmers, horticulturists - what nonsense. There's not a green finger amongst them. They think they're good in the country but the suburbs is the place for them - all lace curtains and three-piece suits. They like to think they've got good taste but it is firmly set in the 1950's.

Miscellaneous-
+They are quick to lose their temper. They throw tantrums to get their own way and will carry on doing so long after childhood has left them behind.
+They don't like to be rushed and they don't like to take risks. Oh you think those are admirable qualities? Then you must be one of them and you were told to read this. The rest of us - the other eleven signs - find them slow and cowardly.
+If you do betray a Taurus, stay out of their way. They are very violent and are likely to commit murder or assault at the very least.


***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald.

The Bad, The Worse, and The Clinically Insane:

Mini-Stories For Suicidal Motivation

What the hell am I supposed to do with all the non-platinums in this not-so-green-anymore earth? There truly are people out there that strive to make our lives a living hell and they do it without the added advantage of being an "elite member". Have you ever heard the question "What do you give a man who already has everything"? Well try answering this one: "How do you stop someone from annoying you if they are doing it for nothing in exchange and no good reason?"

The Bad: Flack

Every time she comes, about every 3 months, she tells us the same old story. I was a platinum member for 3 years and I've been coming to this hotel for 8 and since I've become a silver member I don't get my cookies and water. Blah, blah, blah. Take your cookies and chug that water like it's a rejuvenation serum, bitch. Oh don't get me wrong! Sweet lady and all. I've only seen her eye twitch once, when I told her that her beloved room 702 was occupied. "No you don't understand. I ALWAYS get 702", *twitch*. I must admit though, she's not nearly as imposing as the one lady that proclaimed herself a platinum and helped herself to our market whenever she damn well pleased.

The Worse: Staszewski

This piece of work stopped by the front desk every single day and demanded cheaper rates, since he was a repeat guest AND brought people from his company to stay here. Now, I understand how this petition doesn't seem outrageous to some people (ex. those asking for it). But when the hotel is maxed out and there's guests paying up to $269 to stay, how can we make exceptions? One day he comes in the hotel carrying his one and only piece of luggage: his laptop. We routinely ask 'how are you?' to which he responds by approaching the desk, coughing once and saying: "I'm sick. Can you send someone to help me with my bags?". "Oh you mean that 14" laptop case that you've been carrying around all day to the building that's right next door to us, seriously not even 250ft away? ABSOLUTELY!". We summon our 90lb houseman and I'm trying to explain to him that the "bag" is actually the case. He smiles and away they went. The guest eventually stopped speaking to us after his last hissy fit for a cheaper room didn't work. He's never been back, but the other two guests from his company love our property and are still in the hotel.

The Clinically Insane: Schultz

There was candy and hats flying all over the place while this man was staying in the hotel. I must admit I was amused. I'd never seen so many airborne peppermints in my life. It was like the candy festival I'd never been to as a child. Minus the fact that I had to dodge them all, it was a bit of fun and excitement. Talking to the crazy always is. A certain, silver-haired witness claims it to be an act of flirting, kind of like monkeys in the zoo when they throw feces at each other. I threw not one peppermint, however. I will continue, upon his return to the hotel, to provoke what he claimed to be the reason for the multiple attacks: Calling him by his last name. Did I mention that this guy says he has eaten moose nose? I know it's a real dish. BUT HE ATE IT!

Anti-Debbie Campaign: For All My Haters - Including Me*!

In the words of an entertainer, "This is for all you fucking haters out there". Learn to hate properly.

Here I am, trying to be entertaining and letting you all know why I shouldn't have my own blog. It's too much pressure on my fragile ego for one. It seemed to me that I didn't even have one, considering the fact that I think I'm a walking joke. And not the "oh you're hilarious" type but more like "oh, you got shit on your shoe" kind.

I've always been a loner, not by own choice, but I have embraced it. Also I think that being a female kind of works against me when I say I hate women. They're crazy. They are hormonal. Often get tied up in pointless arguments... And come out victorious somehow. They also have the tendency to drive me nuts (i.e. mother, sisters, "guests"). All of this welds together to climax my next point. I contradict myself, quite frequently.

This is where I stand at the time. I have at least two really good female friends, lost contact with the 20-something all male entourage that was my college days and I have, in fact, the ability to generate human life from my womb (eek), and a pair of breasts to go with it. And how could I ever forget my very own all-female reading demography. I mean, my entire two-female-one-male reading demography. Sorry, Eyebrows. My boyfriend refuses to even acknowledge the fact that I have a "blog" and doesn't even know what the page address is. I guess It's an issue since I keep throwing hints, which he dodges with uncanny dexterity.

More Reasons as of April 15, 2008:

So I'm sitting on the living room floor with my knees bent beneath me and I'm building a puzzle. I am also butt naked. Annie Hardy from Giant Drag is wearing her heart on her sleeve while she sings Wicked Game on my laptop. And I realize, maybe I should try blogging like this. Maybe I should open up so everyone can see how fucked up I really am.

It's funny to me that a lady staying in the hotel once told me "you have a sweet face, you look like a very sweet girl". Those people around me and who think they know me would laugh instantly and probably remember some of the warped things that have come out of my little mouth.

Every smile, every move, every twinkle in my eye, every courtesy that comes out of me is so practiced and non-natural. It's like there is a puppeteer in my brain working the movement and I'm just sitting there thinking 'how stupid do I look right now?'.

Its feels like I'm too aware of myself. Even when I laugh in a movie, I often don't really feel like laughing at all. I know it's funny, but I can stop laughing at any moment. I think that I've learned to swallow my emotions too much. I've learned not to expose myself and behave in such a way that will make me not stick out. I guess what I'm trying to say is that a good portion of my reactions and my feelings are fake. Methodically engineered to avoid the social awkwardness that haunts my mind and constantly surrounded my childhood.

More?

I never know what to talk about. It's like I'm never thinking about anything in particular. The thoughts in my head have no consistency or continuity, and its so hard to make friends with that kind of apathy. The only way that I can keep a relationship is if I morph into my would-be partner. I end up liking most of the things that we share, though. The fact that I'm not driven and have no self-motivation, adhered to the fact that I have no self-esteem and feed off of everyones energy has made me a conformist, among other undesirable traits.

I'll be frank and say that I tend to "magnify beyond the limits of truth" some things that I may write or speak about. In writing this, though, I can honestly say that all that I'm thinking is "damn! am I really going to publish this?", which leads me to believe that there must be something in here that I'm trying to conceal. And even if you have finished reading this and are sceptical about the words herein spoken, and don't hate me yet, please consider this:

I don't know what love is. And I'm not sure I want to find out or even if I might deserve it. I'm simply possessive and I don't feel my feelings. It was all stripped away from me.

***Please leave or make no comments.

Fuck Nature...

THE BITCH! Yet again she denies me the pleasure of doing something that I've been looking forward to.

The details will not be spent on this rant. What I will say is that I am now at home doing absolutely nothing interesting. The sky looks like shit and its fucking freezing. My friend Yara is coming in the spring, because it's supposed to be warmer. Warmer! Not cold-as-shit.

Well apparently Nature hasn't read the memo. Or maybe she's been hitting that snooze button too many times. Bitch it's about to be mid-April. WAKE UP!

Happy Birthday, Aries!

Happy birthday you lazy bastards!

Aries

March 22 - April 20

Personality-
Arians are independent and hold most people in contempt. They have quick fiery tempers and are impatient and scornful of advice. They are exceedingly abrupt and blunt. Their arrogance knows no bounds. They think there are only two ways to do anything - their way and the wrong way. They like to think they are brave, that they are great leaders. But in any real risky situation you'll find them leading from the back. Once the excitement and danger is over they will become very vocal about their achievements and success on the field - how very brave they were and how the whole battle would have been lost if they hadn't saved the day at the last moment, by the skin of their teeth. This is of course, complete fiction.


In love-
Aries loves to fall in love. They do it quite often. They keep their hearts in their pants, so it's easy to get an Aries to fall in love with you - just sleep with them. They are, however, puppy-like in love and will follow their intended around with flowers and lust in their eyes. They stay in love long after all traces of love have evaporated. It takes dynamite to get them to budge. You can be nasty and they will still follow you around. They can never quite believe that someone could stop loving them despite their unlovable nature.They are like limpets, clinging to your knees as you try to leave them.

In sex-
They would sleep with anything that moves, given half the chance. They think fidelity is not thinking of someone else while they're with you. The kinkier it is the more likely you are to find Aries there with their noses stuck in it. If it involves leather, whips, pain, humiliation and degradation - it'll be too tame for them. They are always dreaming of three-in-a-bed sessions, but both of their sex partners would have to be in love with them, and not with each other - Aries could not stand that. They also like the idea of sex in public - but only the idea; they are actually quite prudish and wouldn't even let you kiss them in the open. For all their talk of kinky sex, they are very conventional in bed.

In business-
They are bossy and controlling, domineering and egotistical. They think they are right, infallible, untouchable, perfect, fool-proof and terribly cuddly. Tell them they are arrogant and bossy and they wouldn't have a clue what you're talking about. If they work for others they are uppity, unhelpful, lazy, and will cheerfully steal your ideas and claim them as their own. They use the office as a place for seduction, corruption and sleep and will happily claim unfair dismissal if they get caught. They will gossip and cause trouble if you don't keep an eye on them permanently.
If they work for themselves they either go bankrupt or make a fortune - nothing in betweenn for them. They think they work hard - and will tell you this constantly - but in reality they skive and skip their duties. If they do get rich they'll hoard all the money and still buy you cheap gifts. They also like to reuse last year's Christmas cards and will ask people to sign them in pencil so they can be re-cycled.

Miscellaneous-
+If you catch them unaware in the bathroom they'll be acting out speeches or practicing being interviewed in chat shows.
+They think they are slimmer than they are.
+They are always planning to enroll in a martial arts course. They never do.


***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald .

But Satan, I'M A PLATINUM MEMBER!

"ATTENTION COURTYARD SHOPPERS: WE HAVE A KLEPTO!"

Ok people, pay heed. I will make this a short one, as it was done and over with in the blink of an eye.

So I'm working one of those crazy shifts with the Brazilian Fire Ant, and we have this guest in the hotel by the made-up name Hay. A very polite -no, make that an extremely polite- gentleman. A platinum gentleman. He captured our attention for the fact that he always stopped to greet the front desk associates and carried himself in a slightly less obnoxious way, as other certain people do.

So during this night at one point the Fire Ant and I are chatting away and we see the bartender doing the sidestep-stalk-walk. If you don't know what this is, just try and visualize it. Shoulders high, head sunk, fixed eyes and slow, paced steps. He was looking at someone and he had obvioulsy come out of his post for this particular reason. His jaw was open as he continued to look on. After 50-million light years he made it to the desk where we were standing and asks "Did you guys see that?". "Uh, no. I've been too distracted by your paranoid little dance. Awesomeness!", I'm thinking. In reality we just shook our heads and pretended to look for THAT. "No, that guy! He took a sandwich from the market and took the elevator. Did he pay?". Hah! Stealing a friggin' sandwich! Are you kidding me?

"So did you see who it was?", "Yea, a man, a short man with gray hair. I'll point him out if he comes downstairs."

Lo and behold. Later in the night, here comes Mr. Hay waltzing thru the lobby, belly full and smile of his face. Mere seconds pass when Bartender 007 calls the desk readily pointing a finger to Mr. Hay's balding head talking 'bout "THAT'S THE GUY!". Ant and I just looked at each other in awe.

So we tackle this mo'fo to the ground... Er, I wish. If only for the fun of good old fashioned american football. What are we supposed to say?!? "Hey give me back my sandwich?" Don't think so.

The Fire Ant just stares at me and mouths WHAT THE FUCK...

And so, ends the story. She actually cursed.

Next time on "But Satan, I'M A PLATINUM MEMBER":
Some People ACTUALLY Want To Go To Hell!

Yasu

It was decided as soon as I held it up. "THAT ONE!", he said. "On my thigh", said I. "On your back, and I'll love you forever", "And if I don't?", "I will haunt your dreams", he darted my way.

So that was that. Free. Perfect. And HUGE. Lovin' it! And so the date was set for my first "inking".

November the 30th of 2006 came and I was freakin' out. If you think God works in mysterious ways, you obviously haven't met Blen. His age is a mystery. He doesn't look old at all, but he swears he's over 40. He looks 38 in his worst day. He loves tattoos, but hates piercings. His work is grand when he's sober, but riveting when he's fucked up. He's a freak (of sorts), but shyed away from my suggestion to a shunga tattoo. You get the point.

So the way Blen works is he'll wait for all his cash-paying clients to finish up in the shop and then he will accept gifts of rum and herbs as a form of payment from his friends. You have to understand that "finishing up"also means, "stay until 11pm and IF I have time, I'll tattoo you". A gamble, if you will.

So I'm laying on the couch, feet up on the backrest, and back on the seating area. Deftones was playing and I was singing along to the tune. Blacky comes out, "Let's go!". FUCK!
I'm in the room, Blen is getting his needles set and says "take off your shirt". I immediately disrobe... Awkward! He just stares at me like I'm crazy so I put my shirt back on, only to sit down and be instructed again to "take off your shirt". The following is an account of that day and the subsequent development of how it was, how it went and how it is now.

As one would imagine, that little red chair and I became BFF's.

Here I am (above) in the first 30 minutes of my session-o-horror.

The blood and gore for the fans.

Final results once healed.

On December 20th of 2006 came the color in and minor details.

Then of course, the finishing touches and the tree from where she will be suspended for the rest of her life and mine.

And finally, a very special greeting to my parents who have probably disowned me by now. Love you guys. Keep it real!

Happy Birthday, Pisceans!

And we're back here again... Nasty Astrology of the Month! A special shoutout to my tiny, red and czech boss, the fire ant. She's feisty, she stings and it's her birthday today, so let's give her a hand! Whoot!

Pisces

February 20 - March 20

Personality-
Pisceans have a vivid imagination and sense of drama. They often suffer from conspiracy delusions of being followed. They are good actors which makes it hard for people to get to know them - a fact they like because it makes them seem enigmatic and mysterious. Pisceans operate on an entirely emotional level. They experience the pain of jealousy and resentment more intensely than we do. They hurt when you betray them - an betray them you will. They ask for it. They bear a grudge forever. They are always suspecting their partner of having an affair. Piscneas drive their lovers to adultery just so they can be proved right. Pisceans are scruffy little devils and they have an odd idea of personaly hygiene. They are vague about plans and diary dates and can drive you mad with their seemingly casual attitude to life. They are careless and lose keys and books.

In love-
You'd think them terribly prudish when you first meet them but they will beguile and seduce you, lead you astray and do it wih such charm you'll have taken your clothes off before you know it. They are also pretty indecisive so they can't get rid of any lover. People who have pisceans for lovers often feel crushed by them because they can be taken up and then suddenly dropped for no reason. But again, this is part of their power play. By keeping you unsettled they think you'll want more - treat 'em mean and keep 'em keen. It usually just leaves you feeling worthless and dirty. Then again, you might like this.

In sex-
Pisceans don't need sex, they need power. They like getting you naked so you'll feel vulnerable and they feel in control. The sad thing is, they do tend to get more people naked than any other sign. They'll use whatever tactic it takes - offering a massage, aromatherapy, artistic photos - you name it. They like to be very secretive in their sexual relationships, expecting you to reveal all your fantasies, past lovers, sexual preferences, while they nod wisely and give nothing away about themselves. Their whole motivation force is power. Knowledge is power - they think that if they give nothing away you won't have any power over them.

In business-
They would do much better to enter a career as a counselor , doctor, nurse, or hypnotist. They will work in any situation that puts them in charge and you at a disadvantage. They like to be knowledgeable about things so that you feel inferior, and grateful to them for any knowledge they dole out.

***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald .

But Satan, I'M A PLATINUM MEMBER!

"Terrorists I Tell You!"

As I entered the hotel on May 30th of 2007 there was a quiet, almost solemn atmosphere. 'A promising, uneventful shift is in order!', I chuckled to myself. It was a sunny, crisp spring morning. A fresh breeze made the tree branches sway about in the air, and it actually made me smile. I was new to the hotel, fresh off my training, and I was feeling more confident each day around the front desk and the guests. The needy, needy guests.

So I walk in and am greeted by an empty lobby and the night auditor Pat, whom I still haven't nicknamed after an animal. Like I had originally thought, it appeared to be a quiet, uneventful morning, until around 11:00am.

A small, crippling, faded old woman approaches the desk. She presents herself as Mrs. Repansky [name has been changed to protect myself]. She looked at a distance and demanded I call her a cab. Looking at her gave me the feeling of guilt and nakedness; her presence demanded I drop everything I was doing and provide the most uptight and clenching of my anus, to better serve her. I might as well have called her Your Highness. Why? At that point I didn't know. But I did her bidding and hailed her our most trusted and prestigious of sedan services. WRONG!

When Amin, our friend and driver/owner of the sedan service company arrives, he courteously picks up her bags and deposits them in the trunk of the vehicle. She hastily climbs into the back seat and I see them drive off, thinking to myself 'Boy that was awkward...'. Over? Not for a second. Forty-five minutes later the phone rings. It was HER! The dialogue proceeded as follows, I sh*t you not:

Repansky: This is miss Repanksy. Is this the young lady who called me the cab?

Debbie: Yes ma'am, how may I help you?

Repansky: WHAT KIND OF TERRORISTS ARE YOU HIRING?

Debbie: Excuse me?

Repansky: This taxi didn't even have a meter! I refuse to pay this terrorist! Is there a manager I can speak to?!

*For those of you who are wondering, a taxi and a sedan service differ in just that; A taxi has a meter and rates vary, whereas a sedan service has flat rates and therefor no "taxi" signs on top of the vehicle and no meters inside of them.

The conversation lasted but only a few minutes. It consisted mostly of my disbelief at what this bitch was saying and shock as how badly she was deflowering my generosity. When I heard the words "manager I can speak to" I seriously lost my shit and curled my hands into a fist and all I could think of where these words that have failed to exit my memory like a healthy bowel movement.

Lady, it's a sedan service, so chill the fuck out!

I find out later by my good friend the Possum that this woman was not only a Platinum member (but of course!) but also that upon her late arrival to the hotel the night before she demanded we produce a meal for her. When we "failed" to provide a restaurant that was open after midnight and was NOT a "fast-food joint" she sighed endlessly and "threatened to [quit] her platinum position... She was ridiculous". If she ever did pay Amin is unbeknownst to me. Has Amin ever forgiven me for feeding him to a merciless wolf-fiend-lady? I hope so. Will we ever see Mrs. Repansky again? I don't think so.

If you are a Platinum Member and are reading this, first of all, this is beneath you. And second, being a magician is NOT a requirement for working at the front desk! FYI.

Next time on "But Satan, I'M A PLATINUM MEMBER": ATTENTION COURTYARD SHOPPERS: WE HAVE A KLEPTO!

Happy Birthday, Aquarians!

Welcome to the newest edition of my blog! In it I'm featuring a new segment titled Happy Birthday! in which I congratulate the current nativity-celebrators by verbally abusing them. How? Revealing the truth behind your zodiac sign...

Aquarius

January 21 - February 19

Personality-

They are laid-back, organized and cool - these are also the attributes of any good confidence trickster. They never appear to do any work but they always have plenty of money - they must be sponging off someone. They are lazy and indulgent. They could try repaying some of their debts some time. They hate cuddly toys. They are the most stubborn sign in the zodiac and would willingly go to the gallows rather than have to admit they were wrong, lose face, back down or compromise.

They may look pretty normal but inside is an alien's brain. They are stoic and feel no pain nor cold nor discomfort. Trouble is they expect everyone else to put up with such harsh conditions and look down on you if you do feel cold or hungry or tired. They are driven determined, ruthless zealots and fanatics. They are in fact quite utterly insane.

In love-

Aquarians fall in love with laboratory specimens, chemical compounds, spiders, toads, entire solar systems, books, research projects - anything but people. Well, not individuals. They do love family and society and the whole of mankind. But not on a one-to-one basis, far too close, too feely, too embarrassing. If you do ever manage to get an Aquarius down the aisle you'll find yourself married to someone who never says 'I love you', shows any affection or even lives with you.

In sex-

You'd better get used to being examined, researched and dissected. Spontaneous? Yes. Exciting? Yes, sometimes. Educational? Always - you might end up having sex on a trampoline or in a reference library or in a dancing school - all those places you wouldn't normally associate with being sexy will be explored with an Aquarian as a lover.

The one good thing about them is that they tend to remain faithful. They may be aloof and detached but when it comes to love this does not translate into straying or flirting (they wouldn't know how) or having a one-night stand (they will all do this once just to see what it is like - more research you see).

In business-

Not your great entrepreneur or business person. They can't do paperwork or detail or even turn up on time. But give them a decent science lab and they'll produce a cure for cancer or design an interstellar rocket ship powered by thought or hot air or paper clips. The normal, decent, well-paid job is not for them. They like to be underwater, astrologers, radiographers. Think vintage. Think black-and-white. Think science. They are small boys looking at ants with a magnifying glass and wondering why so many of them spontaneously burst into flames on a hot summer's day. They are obsessed with the past and love nothing better to be digging up tombs, graves, archaeological sites, bones, dinosaurs, and incriminating evidence.

Miscellaneous-

+They make a stand about things we consider trivial. You won't beat them. Give it up now.

+Leave them to get on with their own private world and just serve them, obey them, worship them, and devote yourself to them and they will be entirely happy. They won't reward you of course, talk to you or notice you, but this doesn't matter, you will be serving a higher life form.

+Their watches always have a lot of dials and time zones and are waterproof right down to the bottom of the deepest ocean.

***This excerpt is from a book titled Nasty Astrology: What your astrologer won't tell you about your star sign by freelance writer Richard MacDonald .

Great Photography

Featuring this week:

Christopher Voelker

Words from the artist:

"When working on a shoot I completely discard my perception of a "naked" individual. The nude form has volumes to speak, and has for centuries. My role in transforming the naked into the nude is using light to mold the body into a piece of art. Lighting the body is crucial to the expression of form itself, and determines feeling and mood."

Visit: Christopher Voelker

Oh Tania!

My dearest and littlelest of possum creatures,

I, as your master, am truly and exhuberantly delighted that you hold me so highly! Capable of not only feeding my boyfriend body parts of an animal that I stand in disgust of, but also actually eating it myself, in the name of revenge -and Satan. There was never monkey. Not in my kitchen, not in my oven, not in my mouth, or anyone else's in apartment A113. It's safe to assume that I will never, EVER, bring a monkey -or its brain for that matter- into my pristine home.

This post is a public apology. I apologize, Possum, for lying to you so natural and blatantly, so "in-your-face". I mean, let's face it, no one but the two of us are reading it, but you know what they say about the thought. Back to the subject! You must understand that I just HAD to. Every chance I can allow myself to have the upper hand, you can bet your furry little racoon butt that I will. Possum, sorry.

I never cooked monkey brains and fed them to my boyfriend and dog as an act of revenge. It was for fun. No, wait, that was also a lie.

SUCKER!

Sincerely,
Tads***

Seriously, though... Look at it. The thing is hideous!

Who Am I? Just A Friend...

And that's pretty much all you need to know about me. Oh and here is a photograph my girl Jessy and I recreated of a painting done by a wonderfully talented young woman by the name of Katherine Dinger.

Saydonica + Debbie as Saydonica as interpreted by us

The link to the wonderful Katherine Dinger's homepage:

http://www.pocketmole.com/

I'd Say The Same Thing About My Pink Vibe...

"Shafman says many of her women customers love that the C2 is small enough to fit in their purses, and that it comes in a variety of colors. When it comes to choosing weapons, she says, a lot of women want them in pink.
"It's a girl power kind of thing," Shafman says. "You're kind of making a statement: I know I'm a woman. I know I'm the most sought after victim in regards to sexual assault, sexual abuse. So please stay away from me. If in the event you do come after me, I'm going to use my pink Taser to put you on the ground."

...If only I owned one. A taser gun, that is... Not a vibe. Well not a pink one... I mean, owning a pink vibe!? A PINK one?! Ludicrous!

Here's the link:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/01/04/taser.party.ap/index.html?iref=mpstoryview

TWiC

As it has become increasingly clear -due mostly to the fact that this here looks empty as shit- I have barely been able to add anything of "personality", if you will, to this very first of my blog. I have yet to give this BLOG a sense of direction or even properly introduced myself, or even explain why the hell Tadpole Says is actually called "Tadpole Says".

Now, don't you get over-excited my little Possum, all in due time. I just wanted to acknowledge to all 2 of my faithful readers that, yes, I have been massively neglecting my blog, BUT also let them know that I keep my blog in my thoughts and that I do have intentions of "nursing" it to health. And I will nurse the shit out of it. Actually, I'll nurse it straight to friggin' hell, where we will meet in the afterlife, if there is such a thing.

20 Years Later...

20 Years Later Do you have a tattoo and if so, do you regret getting it? Yes; No way, I love it! Yes; Biggest mistake of my life... No; I'm gonna get one eventually, though! No; I know I would regret it. view results