Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Humor in an Ice Bucket

I lie in bed this morning up until the last possible minute just really not wanting to get up. Getting up would involve going to work. (Morning being an operative word, considering my mornings are more like 1pm. )

Going to work involves people not liking you merely for what you represent. If I worked on a chicken farm, and someone noticed a chicken that was off bleeding in the corner, I'm sure I would, as the face of the company to that individual, be called an animal hater and thrown under the PETA bus.

Maybe work is easier to take less seriously because our personal lives force solemnity.

In less than three days, I lost my transportation, one friend lost her sanity, and the other friend lost her father.

I want to kick myself that one of the main things on my mind for that 4:30am phone call (calls that early are never good news) was that I needed sleep, needed sleep so bad I wanted to cry. (I was spending the night at work in a spare room) The other thing being that I didn't know what to say.

Still don't.

I've never been a hugger or a shoulder squeezer.

I've been gone to for advice rather than condolence.

I've rarely been sad, but merely had the feeling that I should be and wondering why I didn't.

It's a good thing I have a few days off work to put some levity back in my personal life, because I'll always wake up and find I've been staring at a wall for the past three hours. The plan is to be able to laugh about it.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Lessons Learned

Attention class: today, we'll be going over some important tips to live by. I'll try to provide examples for illustration.

There might be a quiz. Haven't decided yet.

1) When planning on theft, steal something that isn't immediately obvious to the next person who comes along.

Example: If you're going to take something from a hotel room, go for the towels, not the fancy designer pillowcases, then leaving naked atypically sized pillows on the bed.

2) When at a bar, don't order "what they have" without checking what it is first

Example: I was running the bar last night and a group of men asked me if we had stout. I said no...and they pointed to a beer glass full of dark bubbly liquid saying "Well then, what's that?" I explained that is was a special order of half a glass red wine, half sprite. I wished I had just served it to them and seen their faces :P

3) Life costs money.

Example: Moving out a year or two ago looked great on paper. While it's a theoretical fact, you never truly come to realize it 'till you are faced with the gap between the date on your bill and the date on your paycheck.

4) Everyone knows that the day after you wash your car, it rains. Try instead, the day after you give your $400-year-old bike a full tuneup, some ninja comes along with a pair of bolt cutters and leaves your cable in a sad coil on the asphalt. You will discover this as you are preparing to leave for work.

5) When making a gin and tonic, the button marked "T" on the drink-squirter thing is NOT tonic water. Tonic come out with the button marked "Q".

Example: Read above.

6) Putting the words "professional" in front of any occupation will make it sound better.

Example: "I am a professional stripper" or "I am a professional trollop" sounds better than just "I'm a stripper" or "I'm a slut" leading in to our next lesson:

7) Delivery is everything.

Example: With a straight face and quick thinking, people will believe anything. Friend 1 was telling us about some really good burritos he had in SoCal, then remarked that they were cooked underground.

Friend 2: What does that have to do with anything?

Me: Well (spinning the story shamelessly), when air touches the meat, it doesn't taste as good. So when its wrapped up and cooked underground, the air doesn't get to it while it's cooking and it tastes better.

Friend 1: Really?

Me: Uh huh (starts smiling)

Friend 2: She's lying...she just made that up

Friend 1: wait......

Ok, that concludes us for the day. Don't get excited though, you have homework.

Any tips for life? Share!

Visit the blog awkwardfamilyphotos.com

You'll be glad you did.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Score for the Home Team!!

Scams are great fun.

As long as you know they are scams.

When you don't catch one, you just end up feeling foolish and cheated. Well, I'm here to give you the good news that RedGirl has 2 points up on the Scam-o-Meter and is feeling mighty smug, yessireee.

First: Background

We have Fiji Waters (1 liter bottles) in the rooms. When housekeeping cleans the room each day, they count the waters and if any are missing, they replace them and let the front desk (me) know to charge the room.

So I come up to the desk at the beginning of my shift, and there are 3 bottles sitting there.

Me (to coworker): ?

Him: Charge room XXX for 2 Fiji Waters

I look closer. 2 of the waters look a tad cloudier than the third. On closer examination, the two other bottles had been opened and refilled (to different fill lines than the third, unopened one) and there were bubbles inside, which the unopened one did not have. (Vacuum sealed or w/e, not really sure how they do that)

Come ON now...tricksy tricksy! Didn't they think we'd check? Like no one's ever tried that before? Give me a break. So I gleefully (and a bit vindictively I might add) charged the waters to the room, and kept the 3 bottles as evidence. I'm really hoping they'll just ask me so I can rub in their faces that crime don't pay...and now the entire staff knows they are cheaters that would have tried to get away with it. Ha!

Point Number 2:


Me: Happy Hotel in Smithtown, this is RedGirl!

Him: Hi, I'm Jonathan with customer service...we're updating our records and need the model number of your copier


I used to work at a library, and we got the memo on these things. Person calls up, gets the model number, and uses it for own, non-legitimate nefarious purposes (ie, criminal).

I'm thinking Jonathan...nice, normal, trustworthy name...unidentified customer service...generic "records" that must be updated...and you want our what??

Yup, that would be a scam.

So I put "Jonathan" on hold and call up one of my managers, explain the situation. She heartily agrees and picks up the call. Ha! Scam averted. But then:

She calls me back and lets me know what happens:

Her: Hi, how can I help you?

Him: I'm Jonathan, from customer service...blah blah blah

Her: I'm not able to give you that information.

Him: If you can't help me, why the f*** did you pick up the phone?

Her: Excuse me??

Him: Then why the F*** did you pick up the phone?

Her: That's not professional, I believe you are running a scam-

Him: F*** you!

Ahh...sweet victory.

Anyone else got any thwarted scams to share? I am all ears!!

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

There is a Time for Everything...like leaving

Today was one of those crazy days where nothing wants to go right.

I knew it would be bad, b/c the previous day, an entire team wanted to extend their rooms for an extra night...only to have me tell them we had no rooms.

I did not get happiness and smiles with this.

Collective Them: What do you mean, you have no rooms??

Collective Me: I've been extending people, but I've run out of rooms. We have a conferance checking in tomorrow.

Collective Them: So, would you have any rooms if I called..?

Collective Me: ....no...because I have no. more. rooms. (taking pity) It's possible the managers anticipated this, so set some rooms aside that I don't know about. I'm going to ask you all to come down in the morning and we'll see what we can figure out.

Later, I found out that a man had gotten his wife to go online and reserve a room and proudly showed the reservation to our Front Desk Clerk. "See!" he postured triumphantly, "you said you had no more rooms, and look! We have one right here!"

FDC looks with a smidge of horror at said reservation and sags with relief. (and a bit of triumphant glee of his own at obstinate bull-like man) "Well sir, your wife made this reservation for toMORrow night, not for tonight." So there. Haha. Ha. Ha. Ha! Thwarted >:D

I mean honestly (rant time) I wanted to say, "Well, sir, we ARE a hotel. We regret that we can't just hold rooms for you if you have neglected to make a reservation. Ie Mr. Angry Person, not our fault. Which means...YOUR fault. If you didn't reserve it, you have no right to expect it, Mr. Entitlement."

yeah. that.

So now we are at a complete one hundred percent. No boiler rooms, no closets. Manager and self have been working tirelessly all day and there are no negative bookings.


Yup, one of the rooms that was supposedly checking out still had stuff in it. He could not be gotten ahold of.

Suddenly, RedGirl's mind and Manager's mouth are inventing words to describe the situation that are not learned in the classroom. (That's what the school bus ride home is for)

When he finally called back, I was informed that he had booked for 2 nights, and wasn't going anywhere. My computer only had him in for one night, and he had signed a registration card for staying only one night. I transferred him to my Manager with a relieved sigh that she would take care of everything. (yay for good managers!!)


The phone rang. After answering it, I was confirmed in my belief that my manager must have taken the bus home as a child. Our *friend* refused to move, called us all mistaken knuckle draggers and sat seething in silent belligerence.

End result?

We had to walk someone, and I'm sitting here waiting for him to come get keys that work. You see, I had removed his key set in an attempt to get him to the front desk, so now his won't work anymore. So he'll be here at some point. Then I'll get to find out what he looks like. Yeah, I was the one who checked him in and didn't care enough to remember his face.

At least until now >:-Q

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

A Closet...or Any Old Place

I love <--picture sarcastic eye-roll with that) the people who come in and say "Give me your cheapest room!!" I smile politely back and inform them that all our rooms are the same, but I'll see if they are eligible for any discounted prices.

As I type away, they keep at it:

"Just give me your cheapest, lowest dirtiest room. I don't care if it's IN the boiler room. My son is (blah blah blah) Just like a closet...anything really." (Begins slightly manic laughter)

Me: Well, like I said sir, our rooms are all the same. I have no proverbial closet to put you in.

Dang. He's not listening to me. Why don't people listen to me? I probably shouldn't have used a word like "proverbial"...wonder if he knows what it means. Why won't he STOP. TALKING.

Him: --so we've stayed here before and we really like it but like I said I don't care where you put us we just want to go across the street and watch Harry Potter with our son, have you read Harry Potter?

Me: Well sir, I'm able to get you in a room with a King sized bed for $XXX

Him: That'll do..and you just put us in the boiler room, we don't care-"

WHAT is this man's preoccupation with boiler rooms? Maybe an experience as a child?

Me: (insight hits me up the backside of the head) We don't have a boiler room sir, but because you appear so intent, I've found you the closest thing we've got. The room I'm giving you is off by itself next to the exercise room. So, depending on the amount of heat and perspiration people are willing to donate, I would say you're in business.

Him: Huh?

Probably shouldn't have scared him with all those words. He probably can't take a joke anyway.

Me: I *did* get your room off all by itself by the exercise room, so you get the boiler room experience without boiler room prices!

Him: Really??? Thanks so much!! Thank you...(peers at name tag) Redgirl. You have a lovely evening, you hear?

Maybe what he didn't hear was the comparison I made for him. Or maybe he just likes boiler rooms. Or maybe all that matters is how you say it...I made it sound like the best thing since moonshine.

Next anecdote from a call I received today:

Her: I made a reservation for a gentleman a while back, confirmation XXXXXX, and I need to add a night. He needs Saturday night as well.

Me: Let me check. It looks like we might not have room on Saturday....

Her: Oh no!

Me: I'll see what I can do...one sec while I tweak a few things...

Her: He really doesn't need that much space. He's rather short, so he doesn't even need a king. Maybe just find a small space that no one else can use....?

Well ma'am, you seem to be interested in our Boiler Room accommodations. Motto: You pay cash, we give crap! You'll love the cramped quarters, the close proximity to cancer-causing chemicals in the nearby laundry facility!

Me: So basically, any old patch of ground I can find?

Her: Exactly.


We both break out in laughter.

Me: Ok, I've located a closet...you're sure he's short?

Her: Oh yes

Me: You're all set then.

It's quite a mystery to imagine what the first man was thinking when he was asking about a room. Did he realize he was insulting the hotel to ask for a cramped, nasty little rat hole? Like I would just snap my fingers and say "I have the PERfect room for you! I was wondering what to do with the rooms at the end of the hall....We normally keep them for our sex slave trafficking..but you know how the economy's just hitting the tubes...can't even afford to FEED them these days. I think I have one free..."

or not.

Monday, July 20, 2009


Being nice is my job.
I thought I'd start out with this to clear up any misunderstandings.
I'm a hermit by nature, but when in a public situation? I become my public persona. I smile, I make small talk, joke and laugh. Who knows if this is the person I will eventually morph into, but for now, it's not me. It's what I switch on for work.
And as with any light, sometimes you forget to hit the switch when you leave the room.
The light stays burning and any number of this can happen. Wasted electricity? Check. Drapes caught on fire by wayward candle? Check. Live wiring coming into contact with water that electrifies the entire wet floor and fries person who steps in it with non rubber-soled shoe? Check.
At heart, I'm a nice person, and treat various people with kindness and smiles, because that seems like the right thing to do.
Toss all this in a blender, add ice, vodka, cucumber, and a squeeze of lime and the following occurs:

I went by a certain drugstore no longer to be known as Longs to purchase a bottle of scotch (don't ask) and this employee there whom I had seen every now and then when I went was there. He's probably around 35/40 (I'm horrible at ages) rather short African American man. I only say short because I'm pretty short, and he was around my height.
Because I get off work at 11pm, it means that I like to go shopping on my way home....around midnight. I was going to check out with one employee, but there was a problem with the register, and rather than fix it, my "special friend" with much good cheer checked me out himself at a different one.
Attend to the following convo:

Him: You gonna drink that all by yourself?
Me: (taken aback by question...huh?)...I intend it to take a week or so....
Him: Hahahaha....

Then I headed over to the neighboring supermarket to get a few things. On my way back to my transportation in front of the business no longer to be known as Longs, the man from earlier is (apparently) on a smoke break and approaches me.
Aaaaaaaand....hit it!
Him: Hey....I was wondering...
Me: Hi....?
Him: Well, if you wanted to go out sometime.
Me: (mouth metaphorically drops open)
Him: Or just hang out...
Me: Um...I'm really busy with work...you know, getting up at 7am, having to to bed at 1am...don't' really have time for anything....extracurricular...you know...
Him: I totally understand, but if you change your mind....?
Me: (weak smile) I know where to find you!


I'm one of those people who...
yeah. that. but in every way.
Like, when when I meet anybody, I analyze what could happen and how I would respond in every sense of the word. I now draw your attention to the commercial from Target to explain:
In case you can't watch it, or haven't seen it, it's the one where the band members pop out of the wallpaper and you're all "Whaaaa---OH! It's a person!!"
Ie, this guy was wallpaper to me...He didn't even appear in my "what if" mind set. Not only that, it was totally inappropriate for him to approach me in that manner...on the clock...and all.

I came out of this with several feelings--tell me if I'm wrong:
He asked me while on the clock...inappropriate. Now I no longer want to shop there in case I run into him.
Are people so "un-nice" to the average person that when someone IS nice, then they think the person is interested? I never "flirted" with the man, I was just nice...like I am to everyone at work. Was he just so unused to someone being nice to him that he misread the intention?

To move on though:

There was this guy....(hey, I warned you this would be on relationships)
There was a guy at the hotel who was friends with the bartender. As he was loitering in the lobby while bartender-man clocked out, I made small talk. At that point I realized that he wasn't a guest, but just a friend. He made a point to say my name and that it was a "really special name" and then when he left, I got this;

"You have a wonderful name, don't let anyone tell you different"


I wasn't aware that I had a problem with it.
I like my name.
I never intended on feeling bad about it.

I will never understand men.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Even a Good Night Can Crash and Burn

It had been a busy night...63 check ins that all decided to come in at the end of my shift. Despite the fact that a good quarter of those spoke languages not my own (to the point where I couldn't even tell you what language it was...italian maybe??), there weren't really any trouble spots.

Hotel Fact #1:

When someones room is paid for by a third party, rarely does it cover incidentals, just room and tax. To cover these, we ask for a credit card or $20. This opens the phone lines and covers long distance phone charges as well as some bottled waters in the room that we charge for if drunk. If nothing is charged, the authorization goes away, or they can collect their $20 upon check out.

"Wendy" breezes in at about 10:50pm, 10 minutes before my shift is over. The following happens:

Me: Checking in?

Wendy: Yes (imagine strident tones the entire time verging into argumentative)

Me: Ok, I'll just need your credit card and ID

Wendy: My room is paid for! (pulls out ID and slaps it down; it's and Alaskan Driver's License)

Me: (pulling up her reservation) Yes, your room is paid for, but we authorize a credit card for incidentals

Wendy: I don't have a credit card. (add "triumphant" to the mix or roiling anger and life and...possibly herself?)

Me: (Haha...like the fact that you don't have a credit card means that we aren't going to ask for anything. That's like going to the movie theater and getting tickets. Then, when they tell you the total, just take the tickets and tell them that because you have no money, you shouldn't have to pay.) That's alright, you can just put down a $20 depos-

Wendy: I don't owe you people money!

Me: (Oh, yay! I am a "you people" again! I always love this line. It's never "the hotel", they always try to make it personal...with "you people". The collective mind. There was one time....oops, I'll save that for later. Anyway, I heard the tone in her voice, so...) picks up radio Front desk to Maintenance? Can you take the waters out of room 2*2 please? Thanks. Not a problem ma'am. I'll just need to see your ID.

So I check her in. 5 minutes later....take it away, Wendy!

Wendy: (from room phone) Something's wrong with my phone, it's always doing the busy signal!

Me: That's because the phone line isn't turned on. The deposit is to open the phone lines.

Wendy: (we're up to "yelling" now, folks) I have to pay $20 to turn my f***ing phone on? I'm just calling a 1-800 number!

Me: I'm sorry, the computer won't release the phone lines without a deposit on file.

Wendy: You guys are f***ed up, make me pay twenty f***ing bucks to make a free call.

Me: Like I mentioned ma'am, you'll receive your deposit back upon check out. (when people are yelling and swearing at me, I tend to go ultra polite and words with more syllables. Ie, "receive" instead of "get")

Wendy: (swears a bit more) I guess I'll come ALL the way down and pay to use my free f***ing phone!! (slam!)

At this moment, my relief comes in and I threw him under the f***bus. I just didn't want to deal with it. Plus (the logic side of my reasoning) if I gave her someone different that she didn't have a history with, she might be more calm.

When I told him that he needed to take the next one b/c I couldn't and then went in the back, he got this funny "huh?" look on his face. Apparently all went well though. My plan worked!

But I had not escaped.

The next woman who came in was one of those who can always find something to complain about. Because I happened to be at the desk, I got to share the glare from hell when she informed us that she was to get $84 dollars a night, per a letter from a third party.

Hotel Fact #2:

State and Federal Governments have a per Diem rate that all hotels must give. About 6 months ago, the Fed rate was $84 dollars a night, but they changed it to $100 a night in October. The State rate is still down at $85, but there are NO other rates down that low.

The note she showed was from the nearby college that quoted her $84, and gosh darn it, she was going to get that $84. The price quote wasn't from us, but from this third party, so I don't know why she thought it was binding. Obviously, the person from the University who had drafted the letter had old information. I doubt it would have been a good idea to do what I was initially inclined to do "Take it up with the UC, it's their problem not ours".

Yeah. Probably not.

So even though I escaped from the first evening ruin-er, I got another one instead.

*sigh* At least no f-bombs there.

Friday, July 10, 2009

...He was a man of many words.

Meet Markus. Markus is an older gentleman, tall and gray and going a little paunchy around the midsection. Markus is married to a lovely woman that he asked to marry him about 2 weeks after meeting her. Her parents made them wait, but they succeeded and now have 9 beautiful children to show for it. Markus also hasn't had a credit card for 17 years and proud of it! (good for Markus)

Unfortunately, Markus has 2 little problems that prevent him from being every one's favorite granddaddy. His head, looking rather misshapen because both ears are off looking for their best buddy, the hearing aide and a brain with the lack of any awareness of subtle and even downright ostentatious social cues.

Ooooookay. So establishing these lovely details, we can get on with the results. The above information, I received during the check in process only. And, because of his lack of hearing aides, I had to speak everything VERY. LOUDLY. which is really annoying and I hate doing.

Later, I found out that his (old) truck thing has an adaptor in it that allows him to plug in his computer. Because he hates laptops. Huh?? Now I'm envisioning a complete desktop mounted in the back with a little rolling desk chair squeezed in next to a filing cabinet. Hmm....that would be so cool! And then you could have a little desk lamp, and a miniature ceiling fan that......


Anyway, back to actual pertinent details.

Background blurb: I have figured out how to make the front desk phones ring with a "phantom call". We have 3 phones, so all that is required is to pick up one phone (discretely), hit the zero, and hang up. All the phones ring with a high pitched annoying sound. This is a good move to make when chatting with someone who won't go away.

So. He and the lovely Mrs. Markus were busy coming in, so I got on that phone like a diseased, starving stray on a frightened toddler.

It didn't matter.

He ignored the fact that I was on the phone and attempted to engage me in conversation. His definition of conversation? Listen to him drone about his past while acting highly intrigued by what I was hearing. Then I must ask questions to show I am interested, all in a near shout. This is hard to do, even when taking a fake call. My phantom caller required a lot of interaction from me, bless his/her fake heart, but that still didn't stop him. My coworker even moved over closer to me in an attempt to transfer attention to someone who wasn't obviously (obviously) on the phone. This didn't work either, though I thanked her for her willingness to throw herself herself under the runaway TMI train. (Our train will be making some unscheduled stops, ladies and gentlemen. Next up is My Sex Life in about 5 minutes followed by short stop at My Favorite Foods and Why. Just a short stop folks, so no smoke breaks please. Back on schedule then with Address, Phone, and Credit Ca--nope, sorry another stop off in the hayseed sister towns of My College Days and I Don't Drink. Get comfy folks, the conductor likes this town, so we'll be here for awhile.)

When he left, and we were looking for a fly swatter to slaughter a fly, I realized I really wished I could smack him on the head with it. But what do you say afterwards? What possible explanation can you give for whacking a man on the head with a blue, gut encrusted fly swatter? This is what I came up with:

"I am SOO sorry sir, I mistook your head for a fly."

Coworker and self promptly break down in uncontrollable laughter for the next 5 minutes. Tears everywhere. Also everywhere were guests that had to be reassured we weren't laughing at THEM.

As if.

Ah well.....updates later this weekend, hopefully after he checks out on schedule tomorrow.

Also, I do MEAN to write on other subjects than work, but every time I make that decision, something happens that I have to write about (for sanity reasons). This was supposed to be a wide ranging blog with maybe about half of them labeled "In the Inn", but it's not turning out like that ;(


Saturday, July 4, 2009

All for a Pen

Here at the Inn, we were pretty full. I had some rooms left, but not many (that's Memorial Day for you...). I'm dreading the 40 or so check ins I have coming in a bit later. At least half of them will consist of extremely tired tweenies that shine with unknown sticky substances and their parents expectations that I will like their children.

Point is, that while I'm willing to sell rooms, I'm not inclined to go out of my way to do it at this point.

Let's call our star of the hour Penny.

Penny: How much are your rooms tonight?

Me: 165

Penny: Oh. Well, are your towels organic? (is it just me? I thought organic refers to something you EAT)

Me: They're made out of....cotton...

Penny: But is the cotton grown organically?

Me: You know? I'm not sure.

Penny: Oh. Because I need towels. (that's....nice?) Do you have a pool?

Me: Yes.

Penny:Nice! Is it heated?

Me: It's....SOLAR heated (lol)

Penny: Huh?

Me: (wishing I had kept my mouth shut) Well, when it's hot outside, the pool is warm, when it's cold....anyway but no.

Penny: Ok, thanks (leaves)

So now I'm all excited. She's gone, and I can continue to stare out the window and bemoan the soccer teams coming in. But then...she comes back.

Penny: Do you serve breakfast in that room?

Me: Yes (I neglect to tell her it's a full breakfast, omelettes etc and that it's free)

Penny: Is that the bar?

Me: Yes (....aaand...ALso neglecting to mention it's free when open)

Penny: Are there towels in the rooms?

Me: (geeze lady, have you ever stayed at a hotel before???!!) Yes...

Penny: Would they know if some were missing?

Me: (I'm so glad I pick up on these subtleties) Well yes, Housekeeping knows how many towels are in the room, and if any are missing, the room is charged.

Penny: Oh. (thinks for a moment) Are there pens in the rooms?

Me: Yes...... (God have mercy...)

Penny: Oh! Then I'll definitely stay!

So. What did we learn? We learned that Penny needs towels, and therefore is willing to pay over $175 dollars (there was tax too) in order to possibly steal towels from the room...which will then be added to the bill. (I put a note on her reservation to check the number of said linens upon checkout) As for our pens...Well, I have to be honest. Our pens ROCK. They are maroon with little clear grips and gold writing. They also have sinuous pen caps. Yes indeed...these pen caps are contoured, and then......that little clip thingy that no one actually uses on their shirt pocket but just sticks on the end of the pen to make it look longer does this little swoopy thing. They also write with surprising ease, the ink smoothing marking the paper in the perfect line thickness.


She hadn't seen our pens.

She didn't know the beauty that was in store.

It really makes one wonder.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Paint Me Dead in a Gutter

So there I was, absoLUTely minding my own business, and this guy, probably 40's drifts over and we strike up a conversation. He asks me about possible good places to go at night, and I tell him one that I thought he might like, after my assessment of him, incidentally MY favorite place.

Tip from Redgirl #1

Never, and I mean never give out the name of your place to go out the same night as you might want to go out. Otherwise you might (a) meet them there unintentionally or (b) if you tell them you aren't going out and you go, they might see you (awk--ward)

So we're chatting, and he makes a comment about me looking tired, and I throw out my crazy schedule (getting up at 7am, working straight 'till 11pm, home around 12/1ish). I add in the comment about always having to go straight home to get the most sleep possible. Then I say

"So what are YOUR plans for the evening?"

(him) "Well, none...since you're not out"

Then, he notices the book I was reading and we start to talk about different literary authors. I had seen where he was heading with that, but I was infinity curious to see where the conversation would go.

Tip from Redgirl #2

Rather, advice from my co-worker that I shall now pass on to you. "Redgirl, you've got to stop extending the conversation. One day, it's going to get you in trouble" This is true. Sometimes, you've got to know when to stop--don't let curiousity get the better of you...unless, that is, you're ME, chasing a possible juicy story :>)

Finally, he says "Have you ever been a model?"

Me : (very matter-of-factly) "Nope, though my mother and I took a drawing class together, where everyone sketched the class. I enjoyed drawing hands" (ha...and may hap we've nipped THAT in the keester!)

Him: "I'm surprised...you have the qualities in a figure that artists like to draw" (.....or not)

Me: "Hmm...that's interesting" (in a creepy sort of way!)

Him: "I was wondering...well, I don't know if you're allowed..." (insert about minute long nattering about the basic sum-up of: "Would you be able to pose for me?"

Me: (urp??) "You're right, the hotel wouldn't like it...sorry"

Tip From Redgirl #3

When dashing a creepo's (or any one's for that matter) hopes and dreams, find a way to agree with part of a statement they made to cite in your refusal. It makes it easier when they stab themselves in the foot like our friend here.

Him: "Or, just a quick portrait, like only 10 minutes...we wouldn't have to do it in my room if that's the problem"

Now imagine about 5 more minutes of him trying to convince me. During this time, *I* am inserting comments like "I don't think that would work", "Yeah, they wouldn't like that", and "uh huh, it's too bad". Just like when people are talking to you and you really aren't listening, so you use fillers like "uh huh...mmm....really?....aah.....you don't say!" and etc.

Tip from Redgirl #4

Don't go with strange men who promise they can make you famous if you just come for a little photo shoot in their "studio". I know my dude was an artist, but I'm going to extrapolate. He didn't really have the "sleazy photographer vibe", but the "draw you" line? Plz.

So...he kinda wound down, gave me his website to check, wedding ring flashing in our chandelier lighting, wishing that he would be staying longer than one day. (he would have to do all the wishing on that one). The website was....interesting...to say the least. Yes, of course I went! You should know me by now...

I'm sure there are thousands of women who are made lucratively famous by grease-slicked agents they meet in train stations fresh from the farm, but we only ever hear about the ones that end up raped and bleeding their jugular vein into a grimy gutter. Why take the chance?


Ok. So I have been a bad (red)girl and not written in a while.

First off: I have discovered some great blogs written by some truly talented comedy writers. I read so intently that I hit a bit of a timing crunch at work at clock-out. Check out:


Awful Library Books

And of course, the blogs in my side list are always good :)

Now, a few more story continuances.

Spoon Man has been back a few times since our little *incident*. My heart always droops a bit to see him check in, because it severely limits the bars I can hit if going out that night to: ONE. Ah well, sacrifices to maintain the honor of cutlery.

I hope you will all remember our friend from the Cursed Room...from Iraq? Click here to refresh your memory. Well. Things have been going swimmingly--meaning I talk to him as little as possible, and he has these long pontificous conversations seemingly with himself. I have knocked my facial expressions down from the naive smile of my yester-years to the wide-eyed questioning expression. To achieve this look, the eyes must be opened wide, lips slightly pouted out to enhance the cheekbones. You can tilt your head a tad to one side, and furrow your brows just a tiny bit.

This will communicate the general appearance of "But sir, I don't understand!" (now, with this picture, just age it 2 decades and make the hair red...that would be me)

So far, it seems to be working, although he talks more. Here's where things get good. After our last little such discussion, he ended with what I shall summarize as "...and yo, so when we get back to Iraq and all, we can just phone y'all up and chat, rehash the good times"


I have been circling the date in my calendar that they will no longer be in my life. I check the computer every day to see if they've moved the date up. I have swapped shifts with unsuspecting co-workers based on if it's a day or two when they're gone staying in SF. (Because yes, I--as their especial friend--get the privilege of knowing all their plans) I have wept, sobbed, beat my breast screaming "WHY GOD???!!!" into the empty storming, night...

You get the picture.

Not a snowball's chance in hell, even if I have to crawl down there and eat it myself.