In an effort to get back in touch with my blogging, I went to check my stats out and catch up on the spam comments section because they’re usually good for a laugh and I like to make sure my followers comments are getting through okay.
I don’t even know how to ease you into the following spam comments I read… I’ll only say that when I read it out loud for hubs, that he guffawed mightily. You’ve been warned…
TL;DR – This post has been sitting in my drafts for several weeks… I had every intention of posting it only a couple hours after I started writing it until it started turning into a novel. For those who’d like the short and sweet of it, I’ve been promoted at the job I’ve come to love and truly appreciate for the first time in my life. You’re looking at the new front office manager. Er, actually, front office supervisor. I’m basically the manager, only without being salary and whatever other perks come with it. If you’d like to read the rest of my drivel… keep scrolling!
If there’s one thing that gets my blood hotter than hell, it’s people thinking they’re entitled to whatever, just because of, well, whatever fucking reason. Got a fancy job? Are you fucking wealthy? Or are you just a huge douchebag that thinks if you intimidate someone, you’ll get your way?
If any of these things apply to you, it must mean that the world owes you any and everything your little heart desires. And woe unto the one who tries to tell you otherwise, cause you’ll let them have it.
Well here’s a big fuck you, buddy. I don’t owe you shit and I’m certainly not going to kiss your ass for any reason.
I work in the hotel industry and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen or been part of a conversation with a guest who thinks just because they’ve spent so much money at our establishment, that it entitles them to whatever the fuck they want. Extended after hours time in the pool? Free breakfast? Or just insincere ass-kissing all around.
It seems like privilege and self entitlement are at incredible heights lately and it drives me absolutely insane. Like, I don’t give a shit who you are… President, celebrity or the schmuck from out of town who has the highest tier he can possibly have as a rewards member from frequenting our hotel chain. Get the fuck off your high horse. PLEASE.
Please, do the world a favor and humble yourself for us little folks. Especially those of us who wait on you hand and foot in the service world. Most of us are genuine and enjoy working in hospitality or other service industries. But it’s assholes like you that want to try my motherfucking patience.
If you treat me with anything other than respect or kindness, then please expect me to correct your way of thinking by telling you otherwise because I’m not going to tolerate you screaming at me or threatening to take your business elsewhere because I won’t capitulate to your absolutely ridiculous demands or attitude.
I just can’t stand it.
I’m incredibly lucky to work at the hotel that I do and that our management has our back 120% in any given situation. But my heart goes out to those who don’t and I’ve got your back. If I’m out anywhere and I see someone giving you a hard time, I’ll speak up for you and tell them to fuck off.
It’s the least I can do since I, too, work in the service industry. But also because, well, I’m a fucking human being with a heart and morals. I’ve got your back, bb’s.
Have I mentioned I’m flighty and neurotic? My attention span isn’t solely to blame, though. Depression, writer’s block, etc. I tried to think of shit to write about, I really did. But as the days turned into weeks, I’m pretty much yelling at myself, like… Bitch! 👏 Write! 👏 Something!
The anxiety to write up something, anything was getting stronger the longer I waited. It’s a terrible feeling…
Well… nothing much has been going on to write about, except now… Hub’s dad isn’t doing too well healthwise and has practically begged us to move in with him.
For those who are unaware, Matt and I share a house with his mother and have been chomping at the bit to liberate ourselves and establish our freedom once more. It’s been financially impossible the last few years, though, so we’ve been miserable. Very little privacy. Her dog, while cute, barks incessantly. The neighbor is a jackass who doesn’t deserve the dog HE has and he’s annoying af. Just… numerous reasons for us to gtfo.
His dad had asked us before to move in with him but at the time, it just wasn’t feasible. Since I don’t drive, Matt takes me back and forth to work and while I’m at work, he drives for Uber for a few hours. The drive to my work and his dad’s place way out in the country, is an hour there and an hour back.
We’ll deal with the drive time, though, because we really want to take care of his dad. The biggest issue is the fact that because he’s way out in the country, there’s zero reception for our cell phones and the internet company we’re currently with, doesn’t service the area out there. So our options, while we have a few, are basically going to be satellite. Whatever, no big deal. The pros easily outweigh the cons. Besides, Matt can probably get paid through the VA to be his dad’s official caretaker, so there’s that.
It’s also way out in the country. The property sits way back off the road, is surrounded on all sides by the most beautiful trees and has two small lakes for fishing and just, you know, observing peacefully with a cup of coffee… or you know, booze. The pics below were taken earlier this year and the algae is nowhere to be seen now. We went out to visit him a few days ago, which is when he asked us to move in with him again.
We’ll see if it actually happens, though. The deciding factor is on whether or not the property owners will be okay with us moving in as well. If they say no, we’ll have to figure something out so that his dad can move in with us elsewhere. Either way, moving will be happening… it’s just a matter of when and where.
Anyway… Sorry again for taking so long to give y’all something to read. I promise to do better.
A couple nights ago, I just happened to look up at the cameras while at work. I noticed a fat yellow orbweaver had built a web over one of the cameras outside and have been wanting to get a picture of it to show the hubs. Finally got the shot, but it was incredibly blurry as you see below.
Me: *shows him the pic* It’s blurry but there she is!
Him: It’s blurry cause she’s nude.
Tiny disclaimer about the 1LW pic I’m using: No offense to the winner is intended but I’d like to support my husband Martians Attack and use his picture. He worked so hard on it and I hated to see it go to the trash.
I haven’t had squat to write about in the last couple days. So… instead, I’ll give you some small highlights to tide you tf over, lol.
~ Hubs bought me some grapes and proceeded to feed them to me like a Nymph would Bacchus. He didn’t really, I was just shoveling them into my face and then happened to notice a teeny, tiny wormy caterpillar in the bowl. I was promptly ill, began googling the shit out of said worm in grapes. Didn’t really find anything but haven’t noticed anything strange, like, caterpillars growing in my stomach. Hubs went back the next day and got a refund for those $6 grapes. Also, never buying grapes from Kroger again. They were the best looking bunch he found and they were fucking $6! But. They. Were. SOUR. AF.
~ I value my nights off of work like I value food and air. Matter of fact, it’s probably the most important thing to me aside from my husband, whom I fucking love and cherish. So after a terrible day of being sick while trying to sleep and getting up and down all day because of it, we finally sat down at like 1:30am to follow through on our plan to enjoy each other’s company and watch Star Trek Beyond. Welp, that idea was shot through because I had to hold the guy’s hand who covers my nights off, all. fucking. night. From 1:40AM to about 9AM, I was on the phone with him at various times and trying to reach our managers in between those calls. I was not happy. Not happy at all. Needless to say, I put my phone on silent tonight.
~ Linda G. Hill is hosting a contest for a new badge to represent her writing prompt, One-Liner Wednesday and hubs whipped one up. It’s pretty fancy. Please go vote for him! His is the “yellow badge” that you can see HERE and vote for HERE. This badge will be used for the rest of the year and will likely help draw traffic to his blog. Voting ends today at noon GMT. HALP HIM!
Those are the only highlights that I can really think of for the moment. So… scram!
I have always had some pretty crazy dreams. Very detailed, too. I usually remember everything about my dreams and the one I just woke up from is no different.
Our scene begins in a normal mall. Shops are open, people are everywhere and I’m walking along just browsing, kind of aimlessly walking with the crowd of shoppers and out of nowhere someone just about runs me over without apologizing.
Now, I don’t take that kind of abuse from anyone and this stranger is no different. I called out to them in an upset kind of tone. The gentleman turns around and…
It’s John fucking Cusack.
Normally, I’d be shitting my pants because, c’mon… It’s John Cusack! Who doesn’t love this man? I do! Or… I thought I did.
John turned around and whipped out a gun and opened fire on me! In a crowded mall!
I thought John was cool! I mean, I loved him very, very much in Hot Tub Time Machine. Hubby and I watch it often enough that we can quote the entire movie from beginning to end. But this time… Adam really does suck Cox n’ Dix.
So there I am, avoiding this lead hailfire, running bodies and splintering wood from the impact of said lead. I’m running my fat little ass off, which, in dreams, is always much easier than reality, lol.
I don’t know what crawled up John’s ass and died but fucking excuse me for not wanting to be run over like I’m the autobahn. Celebrity or no, you don’t get to do that John.
Except, apparently he does, because my confronting him about it has now turned into a deadly chase where he’s like the Terminator and I’m poor Sarah Connor, except… there’s no Kyle Reese to save my lily white behind. It’s up to me and I don’t feel like dying today!
So I haul ass to the underbelly of the mall where workers are trying to do their job and it looks like a scene from Titanic where Rose and Jack are running through the boiler room. I’m sure the workers didn’t think that shit was cute, either. GTFO!
Anyways, there I am, dodging and weaving around heavy machinery and the workers trying to do their jobs while John is steadily trying to kill my ass. Crazy, right?
Blood is being sprayed everywhere, people are screaming. It’s not pretty.
We finally work our way back up to the topside of the mall where I finally make it to the police station. (It’s a dream, shaddup.) The Chief of Police assures me that they’ll handle this and tell all of us scared civilians to keep down while they do their job in apprehending Undesirable #1.
It’s not to be. They haven’t given John Cusack enough credit. He’s fucking crafty. He knows exactly how all of this will end.
Over the loud speaker we all suddenly hear him saying to surrender the girl or everyone will die when he leaks this toxic nerve gas.
This shit is rapidly turning into a scene from Batman (1989) where Joker murders everyone in the art museum and rearranges their faces, well, artfully.
Everyone looks at me and starts putting on their gas masks. Lo and fucking behold, there’s no mask for me and some poor unfortunately souls whose eyes start bugging out of their heads like the scene from Total Recall where the window is blown out and the air from Mars causes a truly agonizing death.
Of course, right before I actually kick the bucket, I wake up and all is well with the world except that the humidity from outside has permeated the coolness of our central air to make for a very balmy sleepy time and I really ought to not eat pizza before going to bed.
Also, there’s a moral you can learn from this!
Don’t confront someone over something small. It could be deadly! Learn from my example, folks.
Him: Ah, this turned out fucking great, if I do say so myself.
Him: Almost ready to post.
Me: Woo, woo! I’m trying to catch up on my reading list now. You’ll be number 2381290387.
Him: Can you bump me one up or so?
Me: Uh… *inserts gif*
Me: Lol, of course I’ll bump you up.
Him: WOOHOO! *inserts pic*
Sorry y’all, guess my duty as a wife trumps my duty to CDO in reading these posts in order, lol. If y’all are interested in what he posted, it IS fucking funny and you should totally read it. JUST DO IT!