Okay, so, it's been an INSANE week.
Things I have legitimately said to people in the past... six nights.
"No, we aren't the hotel with the bodies. That was the other Travelodge"
"If you don't plan on doing your fucking job, you can throw your hat over here and I'll pretend to be the fucking boy for tonight."
"Ma'am, you need to muffle your sex. I can hear you from the lobby."
"We aren't in high school anymore. You don't have the power, bitch. Slam the door in my face again, or call me a cunt, and I will have those lovely boys in blue here to haul your disrespectful ass out of here" (said tonight. Such a great night)
"Listen, calm yo tits. Creepy guys with backpacks who are tweaking isn't anything new to us. I'm fine."
There was so much more.
So much and yet I can't fucking remember anything. Old age is hitting me pretty goddamn hard.
I'm working a lot, I barely sleep, I'm surprised I'm able to do laundry and I'm crabby enough that I'm only talking to a few people with nice tones. So if you're one of them (Jaclyn, Jen, ....boy who reads my blog sometimes and Skypes me more often than not that doesn't have a good nickname yet...) You know you're in that special place in my life.
I'm also bruised, and finding new scrapes/marks every hour. It's awesome.
Maybe tomorrow I'll write a blog that has some sort of flow to it. Or explain what the shit happened. Because, y'all, for once! I was not the fucking hotel with all the crazy shit. I know. I'm as shocked as you are.