Hello my fans!
As some of you know I'm in Singapore at the moment. Not a lot of internet available, but at the moment I'm at the Singapore Science Center and for some odd reason, in addition to all the nifties, they've got computers set up with high speed internet connections. So hello from Singapore!
Friday, September 9, 2005
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Friday, August 5, 2005
Okay, so I went to the doctor's today for my usual once-in-a-blue-moon checkup. Somehow, without any real complaints I walked away with three prescriptions and both arms numb from shots. How? Before I walked into the doctors office I was fine. All my bits were in working order and nothing was turning unusual colors-- now both of my arms are basically immobile from the shoulder to the wrist, swollen, red and burning, and I'm in the middle of a god awful fever. At first all I could do was sleep in a cold sweat, and now, now I can't sleep. All I do is shake and burn. I think I have West Nile, Tetanus, Hepatitis A, B, C, D, and E and Malaria. If I survive the night it'll be a miracle.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Muhahah! Plastic Fruit Photography!
http://www.throwyourownhead.com/photos/main.htm
A slight side-step away from my long... long... long ass work.
http://www.throwyourownhead.com/photos/main.htm
A slight side-step away from my long... long... long ass work.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
How I got a police escort out to my car last night.
Things you don't want to hear at 10 o'clock at night while you are in charge of a completely full hotel... alone.
Realistic phone sounds: "Ring, ring....ring, ring...."
Me: "Front desk, this is Lauren, how may I help you?"
Guest: "You gotta get somebody up here right now, there's a fucking psychopath outside our door!"
And that's just what I did hear.
Insert back story: We had a DUI program at our hotel yesterday, lots of drunks that were only there because their only other option was jail. They're stuck at our hotel, 3 to a room, no personal calls, class all day, catered food, and no free time with exception to occasional smoke breaks. It's a cakewalk. Generally these programs are pretty good-- the advisors keep a close eye on everyone and occasionally threaten jail time to some of the pushier students. I get free food at lunch or dinner and they get locked into their rooms by 9:30-- it's usually very quiet. Last night was another story. The students were being more annoying than ever, "I need this", "I need that", "this is so hard", etc, etc. And this one guy, Danny, kept calling for his girlfriend-- "can I talk to her?", "when does she get out?", "what room is she in?", "patch my call through.", and on and on. And as policy with these DUI classes, we can't disclose any information nor let them talk to anyone. Well this kinda pissed him off. "Well, get one of those damn advisors to call me back, I'll talk to them. My name's Danny, here's my number". A few hours after talking to him on the phone this shady looking character comes walking in all covered in scars and tattoos—but he was blending right in with all the motorcyclists we had in house for the mid-ohio races. I didn't think much of it. He said hi to some local guy that had stopped in to fill out an application, "hi Danny", "hi Tim", I hear them say, but still, it didn't click. He told me he was going up stairs to visit a friend of his and his friend’s old lady. Again, no click-age. I didn't think anything of it until I heard that woman on the phone quickly whispering "psychopath", and then it all made sense and made me a little shaky.
Continued....
Me: "Uh... okay."
Guest: "No! You don't understand, this guy is crazy, you gotta get someone up here now!"
Me: "Ma'am, just calm down a sec, keep the doors locked and stay quiet, I'll get help."
Guest: "Hurry!"
Phone sounds: "Click.... Ring, ring... ring, ring..."
Me: "Front desk, this is Lauren, how may I help you?"
Guest: "Yeah, this is the guy in 310, and you guys should get your security guy up here, there's some guy next door that's freaking everybody out. He sounds kinda dangerous."
My inner monologue: It's just me. I'm the security guy. Fuck that.
Me: "Thank you Sir. Please lock the dead bolt on your door and stay put."
Phone sounds: "Click."
Insert image of me phoning the sheriffs department.
Me: "Hi, this is Lauren from the Holiday Inn Express and we've got a gentleman up stairs that is threatening guests and making a scene, we need an officer over here right now."
Deputy: "Ma'am, is this a guest at the hotel?"
Me: "No sir, but I believe his name is Danny ------, and I have a supposition that he's recently out of jail. He's the boyfriend, or maybe ex-boyfriend of one of the guests in our DUI program."
After that the deputy informed me that he knew this Danny, everyone did. He had recently gotten out of jail and had a big problem with violence and alcohol. "Make sure to lock your doors if you can, ma'am."
I looked around, yeah, I can lock the side office door, but there’s still a big damn open area over the desk that would be real easy to get across… or shoot through.
Minutes went by and I got call after call from people upstairs saying that they could hear someone yelling and pounding on doors. It's was about 10:10pm. Sheriff’s deputies showed up within two minutes and went upstairs with the 2 DUI program directors and my manager, all of which showed up right as the deputies did. But our Mr. Danny Boy had disappeared. There was lots of searching and poking around, but he was still no where to be seen. 11pm came around a second later and it was time for me to get off work. Also something you don’t want to hear as you’re walking all innocently out to your car at night. “Ma’am, this guy knows your face and probably knows that you’re the one that called us. You might not want to walk out there alone.” And that’s how I got a police escort out to my car yesterday.
Realistic phone sounds: "Ring, ring....ring, ring...."
Me: "Front desk, this is Lauren, how may I help you?"
Guest: "You gotta get somebody up here right now, there's a fucking psychopath outside our door!"
And that's just what I did hear.
Insert back story: We had a DUI program at our hotel yesterday, lots of drunks that were only there because their only other option was jail. They're stuck at our hotel, 3 to a room, no personal calls, class all day, catered food, and no free time with exception to occasional smoke breaks. It's a cakewalk. Generally these programs are pretty good-- the advisors keep a close eye on everyone and occasionally threaten jail time to some of the pushier students. I get free food at lunch or dinner and they get locked into their rooms by 9:30-- it's usually very quiet. Last night was another story. The students were being more annoying than ever, "I need this", "I need that", "this is so hard", etc, etc. And this one guy, Danny, kept calling for his girlfriend-- "can I talk to her?", "when does she get out?", "what room is she in?", "patch my call through.", and on and on. And as policy with these DUI classes, we can't disclose any information nor let them talk to anyone. Well this kinda pissed him off. "Well, get one of those damn advisors to call me back, I'll talk to them. My name's Danny, here's my number". A few hours after talking to him on the phone this shady looking character comes walking in all covered in scars and tattoos—but he was blending right in with all the motorcyclists we had in house for the mid-ohio races. I didn't think much of it. He said hi to some local guy that had stopped in to fill out an application, "hi Danny", "hi Tim", I hear them say, but still, it didn't click. He told me he was going up stairs to visit a friend of his and his friend’s old lady. Again, no click-age. I didn't think anything of it until I heard that woman on the phone quickly whispering "psychopath", and then it all made sense and made me a little shaky.
Continued....
Me: "Uh... okay."
Guest: "No! You don't understand, this guy is crazy, you gotta get someone up here now!"
Me: "Ma'am, just calm down a sec, keep the doors locked and stay quiet, I'll get help."
Guest: "Hurry!"
Phone sounds: "Click.... Ring, ring... ring, ring..."
Me: "Front desk, this is Lauren, how may I help you?"
Guest: "Yeah, this is the guy in 310, and you guys should get your security guy up here, there's some guy next door that's freaking everybody out. He sounds kinda dangerous."
My inner monologue: It's just me. I'm the security guy. Fuck that.
Me: "Thank you Sir. Please lock the dead bolt on your door and stay put."
Phone sounds: "Click."
Insert image of me phoning the sheriffs department.
Me: "Hi, this is Lauren from the Holiday Inn Express and we've got a gentleman up stairs that is threatening guests and making a scene, we need an officer over here right now."
Deputy: "Ma'am, is this a guest at the hotel?"
Me: "No sir, but I believe his name is Danny ------, and I have a supposition that he's recently out of jail. He's the boyfriend, or maybe ex-boyfriend of one of the guests in our DUI program."
After that the deputy informed me that he knew this Danny, everyone did. He had recently gotten out of jail and had a big problem with violence and alcohol. "Make sure to lock your doors if you can, ma'am."
I looked around, yeah, I can lock the side office door, but there’s still a big damn open area over the desk that would be real easy to get across… or shoot through.
Minutes went by and I got call after call from people upstairs saying that they could hear someone yelling and pounding on doors. It's was about 10:10pm. Sheriff’s deputies showed up within two minutes and went upstairs with the 2 DUI program directors and my manager, all of which showed up right as the deputies did. But our Mr. Danny Boy had disappeared. There was lots of searching and poking around, but he was still no where to be seen. 11pm came around a second later and it was time for me to get off work. Also something you don’t want to hear as you’re walking all innocently out to your car at night. “Ma’am, this guy knows your face and probably knows that you’re the one that called us. You might not want to walk out there alone.” And that’s how I got a police escort out to my car yesterday.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Dear nocturnal creatures of the Ohio Valley,
I am sorry. I’m not the horrible murderess that you think I am. I do not intend to pick you off one by one, family by family. It’s just that you shouldn’t scratch for worms in the middle of a paved road. Silly raccoons.
Apologetically,
Sleepy woman in the white accent
As I was driving home at the ass crack of dawn today… this morning… whatever… I drove up over a hill, and onto three raccoons. I cried like a baby after I hit them. I have this guilty horrible-person feeling like I just killed mama raccoon, papa raccoon and made baby raccoon into little orphan raccoon. I’m really, really, really feeling bad. …I’m really sorry and need to go sniffle some more. I can’t believe I keep hitting raccoons. I’m gonna have nightmares tonight.
I am sorry. I’m not the horrible murderess that you think I am. I do not intend to pick you off one by one, family by family. It’s just that you shouldn’t scratch for worms in the middle of a paved road. Silly raccoons.
Apologetically,
Sleepy woman in the white accent
As I was driving home at the ass crack of dawn today… this morning… whatever… I drove up over a hill, and onto three raccoons. I cried like a baby after I hit them. I have this guilty horrible-person feeling like I just killed mama raccoon, papa raccoon and made baby raccoon into little orphan raccoon. I’m really, really, really feeling bad. …I’m really sorry and need to go sniffle some more. I can’t believe I keep hitting raccoons. I’m gonna have nightmares tonight.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Newscasters are insane.
I know I am not alone when saying that but really, Gawd. I wish I had the talent that they do, to say some of the most oblivious and ridiculous things. Well, that might be what I'm doing by pointing out in a post that newscasters are insane. "Chuck, it looks like there's some rain coming down..." "Well yes Susan, I'm standing in the middle of a flood." It's like news for the blind... but they don't just want to come out and say it, we have to play the guessing game. "Chuck, are you close to where the hurricane has just hit?" "Yes Susan, if you look behind me you can see the swirling winds that have been clocked at over 150 miles an hour. Our van was blown away less than thirty minutes ago. I call that close."
Gah, three hours down, five to go.
Four hours down, four to go.
New topic!
I'm not the kind of person that is easily embarrassed. It just doesn’t happen very often. Now I may blush at some talk, but I'm not truly embarrassed or uncomfortable-- except for yesterday. Now, as you all know, work has been pretty boring lately. I've been spending about eight hours each day poking around at things in the hotel and starting mild bits of mischief. You know that, I know that, that's it. My boss wasn't supposed to know that. And now he does. Yesterday I came into work as usual, said "hi" to my boss, waved goodbye as he left, then walked into the back office to check out the news on our little corkboard. And there, sitting on desk, was a nice 8x10 photocopy picture of my face. See image below.
A big, distorted, smiling, scrunched up face. Yes, one of the many photocopies I made the other day during my second phase of insanity. My employer was not meant to see the shit I do after he leaves! Thank God our photocopier it up too high up for me to get my ass up on it. I’m gonna go die now.
I know I am not alone when saying that but really, Gawd. I wish I had the talent that they do, to say some of the most oblivious and ridiculous things. Well, that might be what I'm doing by pointing out in a post that newscasters are insane. "Chuck, it looks like there's some rain coming down..." "Well yes Susan, I'm standing in the middle of a flood." It's like news for the blind... but they don't just want to come out and say it, we have to play the guessing game. "Chuck, are you close to where the hurricane has just hit?" "Yes Susan, if you look behind me you can see the swirling winds that have been clocked at over 150 miles an hour. Our van was blown away less than thirty minutes ago. I call that close."
Gah, three hours down, five to go.
Four hours down, four to go.
New topic!
I'm not the kind of person that is easily embarrassed. It just doesn’t happen very often. Now I may blush at some talk, but I'm not truly embarrassed or uncomfortable-- except for yesterday. Now, as you all know, work has been pretty boring lately. I've been spending about eight hours each day poking around at things in the hotel and starting mild bits of mischief. You know that, I know that, that's it. My boss wasn't supposed to know that. And now he does. Yesterday I came into work as usual, said "hi" to my boss, waved goodbye as he left, then walked into the back office to check out the news on our little corkboard. And there, sitting on desk, was a nice 8x10 photocopy picture of my face. See image below.
A big, distorted, smiling, scrunched up face. Yes, one of the many photocopies I made the other day during my second phase of insanity. My employer was not meant to see the shit I do after he leaves! Thank God our photocopier it up too high up for me to get my ass up on it. I’m gonna go die now.
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