School Is Kicking My Ass

Simply put, guys. I did that lame I'm alive post so no one would worry, and then I disappeared into the wilderness again.

The class I took to get into the Deaf Studies Program I'm in now, was boring and I was lulled into a false sense of awesome.

Real school started and I drowned in homework and assignments with groupwork and barely kept my head afloat. I also found another job, which was giving me way too many hours/days I had to work right after classes and I had to cut back. Having two breakdowns in two days (one during a class, nonetheless) led me to calm my shit down and focus on my school more and work less.

Living out here has been an interesting experience. It will definitely be something to tell the family about, in an edited and family friendly version. The crazy shit that I've heard and that has happened around here aren't things that would warm my mom's heart or keep my gramma's beating, so I'll keep that to myself.

I really miss home, though. Don't get me wrong- I love being independent and out here and learning and doing something I'm passionate about. But missing out on the little people in my life's firsts and their excitement makes my heart ache. I didn't realise how brutal not having that support system on call in person would be.

School is kicking my ass in the way of assignments and group work. I have learned quickly that there are some people in my class who absolutely fail at group work and it's one of the most frustrating things ever. When someone gives no effort to improve or be any help in the way of contributions to the group and our efforts, my brain explodes and I snap at the person(s) involved.

I'm also the sillybum who volunteered for two debates in one class.

I work at a gourmet burger joint that is honestly so much fun to be a part of. First franchise location in Nova Scotia, go team!

Anywhore, I'm beat. I just wanted to post here again because I feel like I've neglected you all too long.
That, and reading more tiny print on intercultural communication is making my eyes bleed.
So I'm going to finish this, then find my chess set because I'm joining the club tomorrow and then I'm going to pass out. Early mornings have also been kicking my ass.

There's always a death match for the campus parking. It's an art form, really.  

This Is What Happens When I Don't Have Internet

So, I've tweeted my safety and my take on living out east and meeting my classmates, but I've neglected the shit out of this blog and I feel sad.

I'm sorry, guys.

This post is a lame "I'm still alive" post, and I promise to update with pictures and in full and possibly do a video in ASL too because I'll need the practice after this week (I'm on my last week of school already, it's been insane and busy!)

Right now I'm sitting in the library like a good little nerd.

I hope everyone's alive still! I know Jen and Jaclyn are, but I stalk the shit out of them.

Possibly post a better blog tomorrow!

Today Is My Last Day

So today is my last day at this hotel.
I have one final shift to get through and then I'm gone. There will not be a going away party, because I work the graveyard shift and because no one ever throws these kind of things. I've been taking some time to really think about everything that's ever happened here, all the things that I've gone through while working here...

It's a lot. I know it's only been two years, and how everyone older than me is probably smiling and thinking "just wait until you're at xxx age" and I know that I'll look back on this in a couple years and grin at how little I don't know writing this.

Just sitting here thinking about all the people I've met, all the events I've been through, how much I've grown up and changed.

It feels like this is the end of me playing it safe. I'm going to school, for something absolutely amazing and also really different. I feel like I should have known what it was I wanted to do when I was younger, but I'm also really grateful for everything I've accomplished and gone through up until today. The good and the bad. I made a lot of friends working here and I can honestly say I'm going to miss some people.

I don't really have any new hotel stories. This blog kind of lost its way I think, in that department at least. I've made some amazing friends from starting this blog, and I appreciate everyone who reads it. Just knowing that a few of you take time out of your blogging life to read my rambling bullshit means a lot to me. Thank you.


On a completely related note, I have this idea to start a blog separate from this about the journey (I feel so ridiculous saying journey, but that's what it is...yay tangents) I'm going on to become an ASL/English Interpreter. My plan is to start a YouTube account and link the two together, and talk about the challenges and awesome people and opportunities that happen to me while I'm out east or wherever I end up.

If/When I start said blog, I will clearly tell you amazing people about it. Assuming y'all weren't just here for the whores and dealers.

Thanks for sticking with me, guys.
Really.

Sweet Baby Jesus, I'm Still Alive, I Swear

Okay so this isn't a real post, but more of a "I'm still alive and here's where I'm at in the world so far"

I just had my last shift slinging ice cream. It was bittersweet and full of kids I didn't want to crotch shot, so that was pleasant.

I am working three more shifts (Thursday, Sunday and Monday) at the hotel and then that is also done and I'm officially jobless. Which is scaring the fucking shit out of me because let's face it, I'm a workoholic and an entire week off and then magically I need to find a job in another province that is very NOT HELPFUL with the believing I'm coming there... sigh. 'Hole other rant, kids. Whole other rant.

I haven't packed at all.

I'm a goddamn procrastinator, this shouldn't shock anyone who knows me.

I have this weekend off, and because my parents are wonderful and I suspect they're also slightly concerned about my tank of a car actually killing me on this adventure, they're making me take it into the mechanics so Ill be without transportation. Maybe I'll get some packing and organizing done then?

It's all happening really fast and a lot of things still need to come together and I'm realising just how unprepared I am to leave Ontario (stalkers, I'm moving, so, calm yo tits.) but, I'm also really really excited.

I have plans to hang out with people I haven't been able to in years, and meet family that has been born in my time away! Exciting shit, yes?

So. I'm stressed, I'm freaking out and I'm really excited.
I have... 12 days until I leave my house and not come back.
In 16 days I'll be unpacking and hopefully stealing internet so I can post here again and let you guys know I'm safe and sound and how ghetto my new place really is.

So much to do, so many people to say goodbye to.... it's silly.

Sidenote, everytime I say "say goodbye to" I keep thinking of that scene in Titanic where the little girl is crying as she gets onto the boat with her mom and sister and the dad is all, "It's only goodbye for a little while. Just a little while!"


Random fucking shit, yo.

Alright. I should go and pretend I'm training, I guess.
Which we cannot discuss on here. Kill me now, and pray for this poor hotel.
Quality of service shall plummet when my ass leaves.

I hope everyone is alive and all that!

Jaclyn's Gonna Feel Like An Asshole; A Love Story/Update

So, I realise I've basically dropped off the face of the Earth this past month. I promise I have not died, or been attacked or killed by the pimps and whores. I'm just in the crazy process of packing up my entire life, working 15 hours a day and training a new girl to take over the hotel gig, and getting ready to move myself to another province. Insanity, to say the least. So much has happened that I could talk about, and will eventually because this week and next I don't have to train the new girl so I should be able to slack a bit more and write more blogs, but today I'm trying to peel off a post because Jaclyn is an asshole.

I say that with love, of course. Some stabby thoughts but mostly love. Because I listen to the internet when the internet tells me I need to pay attention to the tags I've been given. Mainly, that she tagged me in the 11 things about me, 11 questions I have to answer and then I have to tag 11 people for this shit so it's a vicious circle of kinda cool but really annoying if you're just coming back to your blog after almost a month of being blogdead.

Anywhore.

11 Things About Me


1. I'm 23 years old, turning 24 in September. Birthday E-Cards are expected now.

2. For my 16^th birthday my mom let me dye one side of my hair black and the other half bright red. The day after my 16^th birthday I went and got my drivers license, and that picture was forced upon me until this year. Clearly I pissed off an instructor in a past life because I would trade that terrible picture over the one I currently have.

3. I broke my right arm/wrist enough times as a kid that teachers forced me to learn to write with my left hand because I was missing too much work. I can still write with both hands now, even though the left hand looks like I'm in the second grade still.

4. I miss playing volleyball more than I'll ever admit. Except for right now.

5. I hid my first tattoo from my mom for almost two years before my (now ex) fiance made me tell her. I don't know if I would have told her otherwise. Everyone in my family except for my gramma and mom found out before she did, and my gramma only found out because my mom needed her to have a distraction while we were going up to visit my uncle in the hospital. I have 8 tattoos and 2 of them are actually of my gramma, when she was 17 and doing a model shoot.

6. I am 2 weeks away from having my Level 2 in ASL and I couldn't be more excited. Except maybe when I get my Level 3 and 4, and can finally converse at a higher speed.

7. I keep the letter that Jaclyn mailed me during the anniversary of my last miscarriage in my bag all the time. I still tear up when I read it.

8. I started writing this so another community I'm a part of would be able to read the stories, and because I had a friend who wanted me to write a work (sort of) friendly blog. My last blog was so incredibly not safe for work that it makes all of this tame.

9. I have always wanted blue eyes, but I've grown to like how intensely dark my brown ones are. I hate contacts though, so I'll never be able to change my eye colour.

10. Moving to Nova Scotia is probably the best thing I'll ever do for myself, even if my family is so very against the idea of me being so far away. I have 16 more days of working 2 jobs, 21 more of working any jobs in Ontario and 28 more of being in this province at all. The closer I get to leaving the more stressed and excited I get. I'm so excited to go on the road trip I'm planning, but so fucking scared I'm gonna fail. I think that fear is healthy though, because I know it'll make me more stubborn and I won't give up unless I'm dying or something drastic happens.

11. I'm 95% sure there is a porn being filmed in my hotel right now. The fact that I'm not doing anything about it, should speak to everyone about how little fucks I give anymore.



Jaclyn's Questions She Asked Me (This is where she will feel like an asshole. Or not.)
1. Who wronged you this week? Go ahead, vent. You know you want to.

All of the fucking infants who work at the Dairy Queen. Their lack of bullshit motivation to get anything done and my inability to not give a fuck while working means that I fucked my back up somehow, and I got sick, and they aren't fucking working. Oh, and the people who fucked up my coffee order on Friday morning. I had to drive three hours to say goodbye with NO GODDAMN COFFEE IN MY SYSTEM. It was TERRIBLE, for everyone involved.

2. Top 5 bangable celebrities

a) Chris Evans
b) Ryan Gosling (Fuck you, he's Canadian and I'm sorry, but, yum.)
c) Mila Kunis (Don't judge.)
d) Ryan Hurst
e) Norman Reedus

3. 5 completely unbangable celebrities (for the record, I don't get the whole Ryan Gosling thing. I guess he's not technically "unbangable", but I wouldn't hit it. At all. Please don't chase me with sticks. It had to be said).
I won't chase you with sticks. I'll just continue to mock you for your shitty taste in men. OH SNAP that was more of a burn than I meant for it to be.

a) Lance Bass
b) David Hasselhoff
c) Katy Perry
d) Steve from Blues Clues
e) Mister Rogers
4. Tell me the story of the drunkest you've ever been. If you don't remember all the details, feel free to make some shit up.
This one time, at band camp, ... no. Kidding. Drunkest I've ever been? Jesus. My dad reads this blog. ....alright, no longer caring about that (And to be fair, people can skip this part) I think the drunkest I've ever been was at a party I had at my parents house when I was 19. They had gone to Vegas or somewhere far away and knew I was having the party, because I have been a responsible child like that and let my parents know when to expect the neighbours to complain and shit, plus I've never invited the entire school to my house because I'm not a goddamn moron. Anywhore, a group of us (I think there were... 30? less than? Who the fuck knows.) had gotten together and we were just dancing and drinking and someone was stupid and OH MY GOD THIS WASN'T THE DRUNKEST I'VE EVER BEEN.

Drunkest I've ever been was at someone elses house and a group of us decided (well I think it was one of the guys in the group, but we'll all take blame for this shit) that we should do a vodka shot contest, and I was the only girl who lasted past 5 shots. I was only friends with pussies back then, apparently, but the competition continued on until there was me and one of the guys and he was ready to tap out, but I was a determined bitch and I crawled over bodies of drunken people to get to the next bottle of vodka, and double fisted shots so I could seal the victory at a ridiculous 15 shots.

Yeah. 15 shots of vodka and I didn't puke, or overdose. Or at least, didn't overdose to the point where people took me to the hospital. Fucking absurd. I can't drink vodka today though without wanting to die. It's like my body remembers what I did to it that night, back when I was a mere 17? 18? I feel like 17 is the right age answer here.

5. What did you want to be when you grew up? How is that working out for you? Please tell me why you failed to reach the goals you set for yourself when you were 8.
When I was 8 I wanted to be a mom and a writer. When I grew up a bit more I wanted to be a mom and a writer and a lawyer. When I grew up in high school I went back to wanting to be just a mom and a writer. When I turned 20 and miscarried the first time, I wasn't deterred, same for the next two miscarriages. I'm still gonna be a mom, and I am a writer. I may not be making any money off of it yet, but it's happening.

Now that I'm an old 23 years old, I'm hoping by the time I'm 27 I'll be an ASL/English Interpreter. And a writer. And maybe a mom, but maybe not until a bit later. Let's get me through school first.

6. You have to be in a room with Newt Gingrich for an hour. Do you end it all?
If I knew who the fuck you were talking about maybe.

7. Song you hate the most and why.
Anything by Nicki Minaj. Because she's fucking retarded. I'm sorry. I can't stand her and turn her and Drake off my radio anytime they come on. My whole body shakes with hatred.

8. First and last name of the first boy you ever had a huge crush on, so when that narcissitic asshole Googles himself, he will know all your private shame.
This is where Jaclyn will feel like an asshole, because the first boy I ever had a huge crush on is dead now. Royce Hickman. Grade six through eight, I swooned over his blonde locks and Russian figure skater looks. When we hit high school and he had a locker near mine, I had basically died and gone to heaven. We lost touch in grade ten, even though we went to the same school all four years of high school. He was a sweet kid who hung out with the wrong kids in high school, got out of all that shit and was doing well before he died in a car crash that to this day no one knows wtf happened. That was almost three years ago.

9. Do you like me? Circle one ----     yes               no             I like you so much I know your social security number
If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you already know, you only need ask.

10. Why did the chicken cross the road (I suspect hallucinogens but please tell me your theories)?
Because the cock was there.
11. Hot air balloon or white water raft? (I'm not even going to give you context here. Tell me a good story)

Hot air balloon. More likely able to have sex and not die.

I'm not tagging anyone. I'm too lazy for that shit. Here are some questions for you though, if you feel so inclined to answer.

1. Favourite time of day?
2. How many chucks could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
3. Dream job and why aren't you doing it?
4. Name five movies that John Hughes made.
5. What book changed your life?
6. How many pictures of you are on the internet?
7. What time is it right now?
8. Thing you love the most about winter, thing you hate the most about summer?
9. Do you know any other languages?
10. Favourite smell?
11. You can only take four things with you to a desert island. What do you take and why?

And now I have to go and finish my chores for the morning.

I'll try to blog about more real shit tomorrow!  

Yes, You're Really That Stupid

Hooker Who Has Been Here Longer Than Me: "Where's your ice machine?"
Me: *dumbfounded* "Where it's always been."
Hooker: "Oh, I never knew that."


What the fuck are you on tonight?
My serious question to you, because I know you're on something, but holy fuck. The three signs in my lobby, plus your vast knowledge of the hotel (albeit, generally just the rooms...) forces me to conclude you're on something super special tonight.
Don't puke or die in my hallway please.

The End Is Coming.... We're All Fucked Now

So, tonight I came into work (Happy Mothers Day to all you mommies out there, be tee dubs) and noticed that  Tuesday, some 'E' chick is starting to work. I assumed they hired for Front Desk and not my job, because audits are shockingly hard to fill when bosses are picky about people.

Nope. Starting next Sunday (I can only assume her three shifts this week are regular human hours and not vampire hours like I work here) I'll have a full time trainee on my hands.

This will be both awesome and horrible. I've of course listed out the possible scenarios.

Awesome
-She's worked in the industry before
-She's been a night audit before (less training!)
- She's cool. And a badass.
-She's older than me, and therefore will likely last in this job. (Seriously, I have no idea why they hired me. I was way too young to work the desk alone with all the crazy bullshit that's happened here. I told my boss if they hired younger *and* and female that that chick would walk within three months)

Horrible
-Her personality could suck.
-I'd be trapped here with her for the remainder of my days.
-She could be an absolutely dense human being that makes me want to bang my head on the desk in frustration.
-She could be good at her job, but have a horrible work ethic and make questionable choices here. Aka fuck off from the desk for hours at a time and let the place burn down.

I'm hoping it's a balance of awesome and horrible. I don't expect a super cool badass to come in on Wednesday morning (first time I'll meet her) but I do expect some level of competence and knowledge. It'll be a bonus if she's done night audit, but if not, I hope my training style and her learning styles match up and we don't kill each other.

Month End quickly approaches, kids.

Happy Monday!

The Dirtiest Post Ever Full Of A LOT I Will Expand On. Later. Probably.

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.

I Was Trying To Come Up With A Witty Sex-Related Post For My 69th Post, But It Wrote Itself...

So, tonight and this week has been kind of retarded with it's level of fuckery. First there was real life stuff, signing up for the second half of the fast track program for ASL (which almost for sure gets my acceptance into the Deaf Studies/ASL Interpreting program, provided I don't fuck shit up too hardcore in July), then I had a wee panic attack about that, because, it's a huge life change and now it's happening TWO MONTHS EARLIER THAN PLANNED.

I'll let that sink in.

Okay.

I've also had some other shit, aka Bad News Bears, creeping up on me. So that's fun.
Last night was stupid and crazy because of the fucking French kids, who all deserved the broken nose that one of the girls got tonight* but we can't all be that lucky.

                   *and no, you assholes, before you even think it, I was not the one to punch her in the face. I wanted to, but I did not. I let the concrete of the pool area do that for me. It was fantastic. Bloody and horrible, but fantastic.

So, after the children finally went to bed, at TWO AM, because who needs more than 3 chaperones for over 40 kids? Clearly not this school, in case you were wondering. The kids are asleep, or at least in their fucking rooms, and I get the asshole who is on probation and the cops have asked me to call and report if I actually see anything going on, guess what he goes and does?

He does a deal. IN FRONT OF MY WINDOW. The caps lock is painful, and I'm sorry, but I don't have a rage font here yet. I mean, my brain almost exploded at the level of fuckery that went on in front of me. And then they mocked me and tried to talk to me through the very thick window. When they mooned me, and I was scarred for life, I picked up the phone and dialed the number I have memorized for the local cops.

Who waited 20 minutes, so they could all clear out, and did nothing in the end. Because they're super fucking handy like that.

To top off my night, I got a call from the hot hotel guy next door (he's in my age range, too, which is nice for a change. No Daddy jokes here, kids. Shit. I'm really tired. I'm sorry, 5 people who read my blog...)
Anywhore. Jimbo called to tell me that he just spent twenty minutes clearing all the escort flyers off the people's cars in his parking lot, and he figured they bombed me too.

I go and check, and yes. Yes they did.

The part you can't probably see is the WE COME TO YOU. Yeah. There are too many jokes here, I'm not sure where to begin.

So now it's 6am, I have a bag full of escort flyers and no desire to handle the situation. Next door (both of them) called the escort service and 'very sternly told them to never do it again' and I laughed at both of the hotels I'm inbetween.

What the fuck does an escort service care about some goddamn hotel workers getting their panties in a knot?
I'm more than likely going to call the police. Because it's private property they trespassed on, it was snowing outside and I put my flip flops on to deal with it (I was/am wearing heels. Fuck walking around the entire building in heels, y'all.) and because I'm in a bitchy mood. I'm just wondering if they'll do anything about it?

Who knows.

But it's my 'Friday' from the hotel and I have 3 nights off here before the fuckery of a long ass week begins, and I have ice cream to serve to people tonight. Exciting times.
And it's my 69th post! Which, being as mature as I am, obviously means nothing.

*cough*


TWO DAYS LATER: Blogger decides to not post this. What the fuck, Blogger?
I hate you already.

Blogger Fucks With My Shit. So Does Snow

So I need to figure out how to play nice with Blogger again, since I see shit has changed. This could result in me fucking with the actual blog itself, but, I figure that's okay. I get to control this bitch, right? Right.

I'm typing this while shivering and looking outside, because someone turned the Air Conditioning on again. Not that bad, you say? I beg to differ.

It's snowing like a motherfucking asshole out there. I was wholly unprepared for such an event this time of year, lulled into a false sense of comfort that spring was arriving.

Because of the bad weather, I got hit with a bunch of ragged travellers, which is always nice for business.
I also got hit with a bunch of needy whiny demanding asshats.

First guy was insanely slow about getting all of the information I need to check him in/make a reservation. At one point when trying to dig out his credit card, he asked if he could just read it to me.
               Um, no. No you cannot. I need to physically touch what I'm charging and see that it matches the name on the drivers license you take twenty hours to get to me. This is standard shit, people. Drivers license and credit card. Or Health Card and credit card. Or cash, if you're a ghetto hotel like mine that sometimes willingly checks in the whores and dealers.

I then checked in three more people who told me all about their life stories and why they were travelling so late at night (it was maybe 2am by the time the last person straggled in. Late wasn't even in my vocabulary yet). Overall the past week and a bit has been decent work wise. No more insane drug busts, or bitches acting so crazy I lose my mind.

I also found out I have a three day weekend coming up, but then I'm working 11 days straight, with a couple double days of both jobs. It should be interesting...

I'm done at the hotel June 28th. Moving early July and that should be a whole other adventure.
I might have to change the name of my blog! Can you do that?

My Hotel Is Actively Trying To Kill Me

I'm not even kidding.

Last night the weather was intense and crazy and I didn't realise until my car almost blew off the road that it was a smidge on the windy side.

Turns out last night it was windy enough to rip off siding on my hotel.
And try to kill me.

I was out doing rounds and had been warned that some siding had apparently ripped off, but the restaurant guy (who lives in the hotel, coincidentally) had picked it up and put it by the side of the building. Well, more had ripped off and I was picking it up and another slice ripped off. That shit is loud, and it was falling from the sky. Ridiculous.

I obviously tried to catch it, failed because the windy is a tricky bitch, and had to walk an extra twenty feet to grab the siding before I went back inside.

It's been a fairly eventful week, but nothing truly exciting is there to report. I'm waiting, impatiently, for word back on when I have to leave for school if I'm accepted, and busy studying the signs that were practiced in class last week.

SPEAKING OF WHICH.
OH MY GOD.

This is mainly for anyone who watches Sons of Anarchy.
I'm taking classes with Chucky.
I shit you not. I'm going to ask him this Thursday if I can take a picture, but I swear to god, the actor who plays Chucky (Michael O....something, I fail and am too lazy to imdb it) has a twin here in Canada.
I love him. Would possibly have his babies.

That's all the excitement I have for now.

Yes, I Wear Different Patterned/Coloured Socks While Telling You To STFU. What Of It?

So, I haven't died.
Instead I'm plowing through life like a crazy person and working towards getting shit organized and ready for me moving. I'm working with the theory that I'm going to get accepted into NSCC for Deaf Studies and I need to find ways to fund this and get everything ready.

So I got a second job.
Which isn't a big deal, I've done two (fuck, three jobs) before. And I don't really need training for this one, it's my old high school gig at Dairy Queen.

What IS a big deal is in the span of 43 hours I will have had a twenty minute nap. I am going to try my fucking hardest to nap when I get home in an hour, but, I likely won't, and instead will try to wake up more for my 6 hour shift. 21.5 hours of work in 43 hours is ridiculous. Even by my standards, especially on no sleep.

Two people have legitimately suggested crack or meth to me.
I find it both awesome and sad that they don't believe in my awesome.


Anywhore. The whole point of this was to assure anyone who didn't stalk my twitter (I will say that I fucking squealed like a girly girl when Jen followed me today. Just like I did when Noa followed me. I'm waiting for Jaclyn to get a fucking twitter. Or make me aware of it. Get on that.)

my twitter, I suppose, if y'all wanted to follow? is @jessamaca123
because I'm creative like that.


I had to yell at a couple of whore rooms tonight and one of the guys commented on my socks. Tonight one is bright yellow with black squares, and the other is bright blue with a multicoloured argyle type pattern. It's fantastic.

I have also called one of the stuffiest, and rudest construction guys a judgemental bastard, and I have called the creepy kid a fetus. To his and his co-workers face.
I'm hoping this kid learns how to back the fuck up.
My car isn't opposed to protecting me.

I hope y'all are having a fantastic day/week/month/year.
much love.

No, I Will Not Touch Your Penis!

Y'all I have hit the motherfucking wall.

I'm married and a lesbian, who has two penises and a hairy vag.

I am trying, so fucking hard, to remain polite and not spaz out like I normally would.

My wall, you ask?
It's a new spring time season for the construction crews and boy are they so excited to be here.
I have what some people consider 'pretty' features. I have a kick ass personality too (yeah, I'll own the personality part, but debate the 'pretty' part. Don't question my issues) so it sometimes (read-ALL THE FUCKING TIME) gives off the “Hit On Me NAO” vibe.

Today has been a horrible case of this.

This morning, was the first (and I sincerely hope only) time that someone calling me gorgeous made me feel like they were telling me I have a purdy mouth.

If you don't understand that reference, we are no longer friends.

Anyways. So this kid has been slow in his moves, and I could see it coming from a mile away. What is it about the youngin's that they don't know how to hide their intentions? I mean, for fuck's sake. My grandmother could have guessed what was happening.

Tonight, he made three passes while I was checking in people and talking to my regulars, before he caught me alone. He stood with me for the entire hour it took me to do my audit, which, I guess was nice of him.

And then the awkward moment of when I finished my audit and went into the office.

Me: “Well, it's been a slice, but I need to go and finish the rest of my paperwork and that's in the office.”
Him: “Oh, it's okay. I'll just stand here”
Me: “............”

two minute awkward silence where I'm trying to figure out how to tell the infant to gtfo and go to bed

Me: “I'm not coming back out, y'know. You should probably just go to bed, or sit by the fireplace.”
Him: “Oh, but then I wouldn't have the beautiful view of you”

I said nothing after that.

I just... sat here and did my work and tried to not think about how FUCKING CREEPY this kid is..

He's maybe 19? Maybe? That's pushing it.

He looks like he knows some good body-hiding places.

It wasn't too ridiculous, and after three hours of standing by the desk when I wasn't there he finally went to bed, but I think that was more to do with his need to have a nap before his work today.

I need to have a bitchier personality.

Or figure out a way to repel them.


In completely unrelated news, I'm looking for a second job, so I can save up and not completely fail when/if I move across the country and I'm waiting ever so patiently (read: I check my emails every hour. On the hour. In case I missed the vibrations from getting a new email) for my acceptance into NSCC, and next week is both ASL Club and my first class in ASL 2.

And a shout out to my handsome friend for helping to save me tonight by playing to role of my fake boyfriend.

I really need to find a nickname for him. 

You Wonder Why I Want To Slap People.... Take This Advice.

So tonight was both amusing and informative and has me reflecting pretty hardcore about some shit, but for the most part what I want to write about tonight involves a tutorial I want you all to take to fucking heart.

The Motherfucking DO's and DON'TS of Complaining To the Front Desk

DO: Call the desk if there are children running rampant
This is helpful to the desk, when you let us know that there is an issue. You're giving us a chance to fix the situation before shit really gets out of hand and we get shot with a fucking Nerf gun thing. However,

DON'T: Call the desk if it is your own fucking child who is running rampant
I am not a built in babysitter, contrary to the popular fucking belief. If you are calling me because your own fucking child is a part of the problem, then own up to that shit. Or I will not take your next call seriously and I'll tell you that you need to control your own spawn.

DO: Tell the desk how upset you are
Because sometimes people call, just to let us know. The level of annoyance on the phone does infact increase my own level of annoyance. If it's just a hockey parent calling to be an asshole to the other team, then I take that shit less seriously. If it's an old woman calling because she can't hear the TV and it's on full blast, and she's got venom spewing out her mouth into my ear, then I tend to walk a little quicker. However,

DON'T: Yell at/Curse at/THREATEN the desk.
We do not care enough. We never will. I'm sorry, but how many weekends, or nights of absolute bullshit do you reckon I put up with? Let me tell you, it's a fucking lot. So when someone gets it in their mind that they need to Yell At Me, Curse at me and then tell me that they'll “have my job” in the morning, or “they're going to pack up and leave” I wave to them. Yell at me, it just makes me not want to help you. Curse at me and it makes me twitch because I have to (at times Out Loud) remind myself that I am at work and can't go off on the person who is cursing. My favourite is when people threaten to get me fired. Really? You're going to assume that I don't know how to do my job badly enough that you can come in with your bullshit complaint and get me fired the next day. My job is one of the worst jobs in this fucking industry, and anyone who has worked it knows. No one likes this job because of the job. I like it because it's normally quieter and you don't have to deal with management. Threatening to leave is also hilarious, because if you leave and don't give us a chance to do anything, we still charge you the room rate.

DO: Speak Calmly When Talking To The Desk
Seriously. I cannot emphasize this enough. When you're calling, for ANYTHING, don't rush your words. Unless there is blood, or broken bones, there is never a need to race through a sentence like you're on crack. It also gives the impression that you're a rational human being. Anyone in the retail/customer service business will appreciate someone who speaks calmly when telling us how children are screaming their little heads off in the hallway upstairs.

DONT: Come Out In Your Underwear To Yell At The Desk I say this for two reasons. One, the chances of a person being anywhere near to what I want to look at half naked, are so slim that you can assume I'd rather stab my own eyes out with a rusty spoon. Even the hot construction guys. Keep it clothed, people. There are cameras, and it is a lot harder to take someone seriously when the desk is wondering if you're fully naked or just mainly. The second reason, is Don't yell at us at the desk. Seriously. Think about this for a hot minute. If you're standing here, yelling at me, telling me how useless and incompetent I am, where can I go? What can I possibly fucking do to help your situation out? The answer, kidlets, is nothing. Not a goddamn thing. I cannot leave the desk when someone is standing there. It is the golden rule, it is a fucking pain in my asshole when I get drunks who will not go to fucking bed, but it is unspoken. If I leave, I'm inviting people to fuck up my workstation. It's happened before (Story for another day) and it will likely happen again. The only time I ever leave someone at the desk, is when I'm grabbing them pillows or blankets. Because that shit is down the hallway.

I can't leave the desk to go yell at the drunks or the children, until you let me.
I understand your frustrations about not being able to watch “I Love Lucy” but I can't do anything until I am able to leave the desk. There is only ever one of me.


Suggestions On How To Handle Shit

Take a moment. Think about how noisy the hotel is, and whether or not the desk can hear it.
I know in my hotel, the only shit I can't hear is down the hallways that are upstairs. I can hear running, and I can hear serious noise, but singular room shit? If it's not on the ground floor I can't hear it. I would absolutely welcome a call letting me know that there is ruckus going on upstairs. I'd prefer it to be a calm call and without anger towards me (because really, people, I didn't fucking tell them to go and be assholes upstairs. I'm bored some nights but never that bored). I'd also really prefer only one call about the issue. If you call within a five minute period of calling the first time, you almost automatically put yourself on the douchebag list.

I guarantee, unless it's a problem downstairs and I can see the room door from the lobby (which is a total of five rooms, and I can hear them sneeze from here) then I need about 10 minutes to get in contact with the room and issue the warning. Add five minutes for them to settle the fuck down, that means you should only be calling me once every 15-20 minutes. Even then that's excessive.

Call once. Let the desk know what the fuck is up, then try to be patient. Wait a good 30 minutes, and if shit hasn't changed, call the desk again. It could be that you weren't the only one and I had to answer the phone 13290 times before I could go and do something about the problem that everyone and their mother told me about.

Remember that normally the desk only has one or two people. If it's a busy night, you can bet those poor souls are being run ragged. I know it seems like they should be able to drop everything and deal with whatever has your ass in a twist, but sometimes you need to have patience.

Don't threaten. Or blame the desk. We are here to help you, for the most part. I hate having to apologise for shit that isn't my fault. Assholes not listening to me, isn't entirely my fault. I can only do so much and evicting people is actually a lot harder than it sounds. I really hate having a person come stay here and their night be ruined by drunk idiots. But unfortunately, sometimes, that shit happens.

As long as you stay cool, control your own spawn and follow the hotel rules it should be good. And when those noisy fuckers start shit, I got this. Hopefully.


On a completely unrelated note, I'm running away for the weekend and plan to come back a lot less stressed out and more my old badass self. No more people trying to kill themselves in my hotel, no more court hanging over my head and no more threatening exboyfriends. Just waiting for my acceptance into school and for my next ASL class to start.

Behave yourselves! 

ASL Practice, No Talking Dinner and A Drug Bust- Typical Wednesday

So, I'm writing this to stave off the boredom while the cops haul the douchebags away.

Yeah.

ASL practicing is tiring, because it's just review of the things I already know and I want to learn more but my next level doesn't start until April 12th.

Tonight was my last class with the local college, and we went out to dinner and had a No Talking rule. That was wicked fun, but I think I'm the only one who thinks so... everyone else was chomping at the bit to talk while they signed. I think I'm both odd and awesome for not being affected either way. I don't mouth the words I'm signing, I just sign and assume everyone knows what the fuck is up.

Then tonight my favourite cop came in and said he missed me, asked about the trouble rooms and I pointed him to one, like a good night audit. He and his partner wander down to see if they can hear anything, and they smell an amazing amount of pot (which is why I'm so fucking tired and have the munchies tonight) so they knock on the door, get no answer and then come up to the desk.

I advise them that the dumbasses will likely bolt through the back door, and my cop takes my advice and calls in backup. So I get swarmed by cops, all of them hot and delicious, of course. Ten minutes later they're running down the hall and telling me I'm right.

I'm not even phased by this. Seriously. I think it's absurd how nonchalant I am about shit like this nowadays. It takes a fuck of a lot more to shock me or ruffle my feathers, which is probably a good thing?

Who the fuck knows.

Anywhore.
I'm alive, and I'm okay, and I love all of you for everything.

No Clever Title, Just Word Vomit

This post is going to be an insanely long tangent and I'm already apologising. I will bold the shit that might be funny/interesting to read. The rest is going to be word vomit and a terrible show of my character. Or something seemingly important to only me.

So last week when I posted, I wanted to talk about how I don't talk about the bad shit that happens here at work. I have no issues talking about the stupid whores or the crack addicts who try to come at me, but when it comes to talking about the women who get beaten in their homes and use my hotel as a 'safe haven', I tend to close up. Last week, I had a woman who came in and exhibited every single sign that she was a battered woman. I would have used her in a model to explain what the next night auditor should look for.

She was nervous, always looking out the door she came in, she did not park anywhere near the front so her van was hidden from sight unless you drove into my parking lot, she came in wearing only the clothes on her back and a really long jacket, and had a big purse. She walked like she had been beaten, and talked so quietly I turned everything loud off just to hear her. She teared up when I asked my roundabout question to confirm what I knew- when the front desk ever asks you if you'd like any calls forwarded to your room, or if you would prefer to not be disturbed, we either suspect you are hiding out and for a good reason, or you're a horny teenager with their girlfriend for a hot night.

At 3am in the morning, it was the former when I asked her and she did not want anyone to know she was here. I understood and quietly told her no one would bother her. I put her in a room away from everyone and left her to her own devices.

At 5am in the morning, something was clearly wrong when she checked out, worse for wear than when she checked in and talking senselessly about going to the hospital an hour away as opposed to the one ten minutes.

Then I noticed the blood.

I had no idea how I managed to not freak out, because I was hitting the wall of “Let's Remember When I Was The Bleeding Scared Girl” and I needed to not go through it at that moment. I kept calm, tricked her into going back into her room, called the cops and tried to keep her on the property because I was worried she had injuries that were worse than what I had originally thought. She obviously needed help, and I hate forcing it upon people, but, when there are bloody hands involved, I get to be a pushy bitch.

It wasn't until almost 620am that I learned it was a self inflicted reason. That the woman had more issues than her abusive husband, and that my hotel room was soaked in red. The officer wouldn't let me go any further than the door to which I let him in.

I think she lived?

That's the thing, about hotels. Cops and firefighters and other hot helpers, they come and they help you and they take away the problem to go and fix it somewhere else, but they never inform those who were involved or affected what the overall outcome was. I'd never know if she died. They had taken away all the evidence they needed that morning.

People don't like to hear about those kinds of stories. Or about what happens when the husbands come in looking, or the wives of a cheater come in knowing fully well that they are here, but I either can't or will not tell them. I legally cannot.

That, combined with my shock over dealing with it, combined with the stress of court, made me break a bit.

And then people started telling me how strong and tough and able I am to testify and how I should just suck it up and deal.

Um, no.

Fuck you.

Fuck you very much.

A lot of the people in my life do not know every single detail about my relationship with him. Or the aftermath, or the terror I lived with for weeks after. I was never worried about testifying against him. Ever. Fuck that worry. Bitch can't get up on the stand and tell the truth and nothing but the truth about how he woke me up with a kiss, went away for forty minutes in my car and came back to our bed after having brutally raped his ex? Bitch needs to be smacked good and hard.

I was freaking out and stressing and trying to show that I HAVE FUCKING WEAKNESSES, over the fact of having to actually SEE him again. I can tell you where I was, exactly, the last time we saw each other. Down the street from here, at the local Tim Horton's. I go there every night, and he knows this. He's only ever shown his face three times there when I was. Each time, he'd smile, or say something, or suggest that he was going to do something and it would make me want to scream.

He hasn't left a bruise on me. He hasn't emailed me in two years, almost to the fucking day, and he has not contacted me via cellphone even though my number has not changed in almost three years. He is smart. He knows all of that is traceable and with his fucking history, it would not look well.

Court was this week.

I did not have to see him, because he pled out. I have no idea what he got instead of the years in jail he was going to get, but he is not my imminent threat anymore. I don't know if he ever was, but I hate that I let him have that power over me.

I wasted two days of not working, and I am officially so stupid tired that my assessment test today should basically spank me without even trying. But I will find a way to get what I want. I always do.

I'm hoping this week, and the next, are lazy and boring and full of non grown up things, because I need a moment.

So I haven't died. I told y'all about the thing that freaked me the fuck out, and I admitted I have weaknesses. I think thats a pretty stellar vomit, don't you? 

I Haven't Died Yet. Promise.

I always start my shift thinking I'm going to write about something completely different than I actually end up writing. I have so many topics and ideas and then life gets in the way and slaps me in the mouth and I end up using this as a place to vent and release. That's what writing is all about, right?

I was looking online to find the exact quote about writing that really struck a chord with me, but I fail and can't find it. Anyways. It goes something along the lines of “Writing is one of the easiest things a person can do. You just sit at the keyboard and bleed”.

It's true. When I'm writing about something, like what I'm about to write about, it takes a piece of me with it. It also helps heal me, and helps me to make sense of certain things. I have a lot of shit going on this week and next. I've been trying to write a post for here this entire week, and other shit keeps getting in the way.

Just a highlight of the awesomeness in my life right now:

I'm sick, and have been for the past week. I'm a whiny grumpy bitch when I'm more than a cold sick. I have some sort of throat thing, mixed with the general exhaustion that comes with my days off not being true days off. I am also aware that I'm still upset over my boss being fired, and the chaos at work here with the new manager is kind of ridiculous and taking a toll. I'm the invisible employee again, and while it's nice because I don't have to really answer to anyone, it's also annoying because I'm not getting answers to fucking questions I keep asking.

So I'm trying to get over my sickness because I really can't afford to be ill right now.

Today I'm packing up my entire room and getting ready to move back to my parents. The move is happening either Friday, or Friday and Saturday. Not sure which, it'll depend on how much help and muscle I can acquire on Friday. I have some bribery and IOU cards from a couple guy friends, so that might work.

I heard back from the local Deaf Access office, and I'm waiting for an assessment test date to see if I can skip to the Level 2 course. Cross your fingers for me, please, because I really want this. It will make my shit so much easier to handle, because I'll be able to finalize my application to the school out east that offers the program I want.

My goals for the year have changed, but it's a good and responsible change I think. No more bike, still getting out of debt and moving to a much prettier part of my country.

I've had to deal with a lot of personal shit lately, and work hasn't made it very easy. I had a serious incident this week where the police had to be called, and it took me a good day and a half to get over what the fuck happened. There's just a lot of shit that most people don't think others have to deal with.

I'm probably not going to post anything for a week or so, but, I'm alive. If I die, I promise I'll tell Jaclyn, and she can collaborate with Jen and write my obituary. I expect it to be full of how I died, and how I should have passed many months ago after the lip balm touched my beautifully moisturized lips.

Seriously, though, I promise not to die.

Court starts Monday, and fucking lawyers just made my Saint Paddy's Day celebrations impossible because we're meeting at the courthouse Sunday morning to discuss prep and questions. To say I'm freaking out is an understatement, but, I'm putting on my big girl panties and hoping that this shit only takes a day or two. I'm already missing two days of work, and it's fucking lame.

As I'm typing this, my hot construction men are waking up to the thunderstorm that is ravaging my city, so I shall leave you all with this awesome cover of a song that I'm obsessed with this week. Enjoy.

Love,

Ninja

Tribute To One Of My Internet Heroes, Take Two: Jaclyn

I'm still sad and sick and bitchy, but I wanted to get away from that whine-fest for a moment and bring everyone's attention to Jaclyn.

She's on my list of fantastic fucking people and I want you all to fall in love with her and stalk her too. Like Jen, I found her through Noa. Jaclyn is what I think people call a 'mommy-blogger'. Basically, she's a fucking badass mom. I don't even know her kid, and I think she's the coolest kid out there (after my own nieces and nephews, of course. Gotta put family above the children of women who try to kill you with lip balm) and she's pretty funny too.

In all seriousness, Jaclyn is a fucking amazing person.

She's helped me through some tough shit, sent me a letter that made me cry and lip balm that didn't kill me (yet) and cookies that were decent even though they were kinda stale because her country and my country apparently hate each other.

She gives awesome advice, sucks at Words with Friends, hilarious drawings with Draw Something and overall makes me feel like I'm not alone even when shit gets tough. If you need someone to talk dicks, work, or babies with, she's your chick. She's kind of a sore loser when you kick her ass by 218 points though. So, fair warning.

She knows I love her, even when she tries to kill me.
Now y'all know I love her too.

As a completely random fact,

my right ear feels like it's underwater and it's...humming? Throbbing? It's awkward and I want it to stop. Suggestions on ear replacements are being taken...now.

Loyalty Means Nothing Here, Apparently. UPDATED WITH EMOTIONS

So, this weekend was insanely stupid and full of me getting called in to work to cover a shift where figure skating moms and hockey moms were both assholes and deserve to be cut, but that's not the point of the story. That sort of shit happens all the time.

The point of this story is I'm grieving.

The head of the hotel/manager, the sweetest lady, was 'let go' on Friday due to 'costs'.


Lost an amazing boss, and now shit is up in the fucking air with everything.
Half the staff wants to leave, myself included, but a lot of us are staying because we need the money and we don't want to completely fuck each other over.
It was sudden, it was out of the blue and this office feels a lot like an interrogation room now as opposed to a place of accomplishments and honours.

The hardest part I'm having right now is two fold.
One, the owner knows nothing about running a hotel. I'm not exaggerating when I say this. Shit is going down and everyone is taking flak from the 'all knowing owner'.
two, my boss normally calls every night to talk and catch up, but tonight I won't get that call.

It's gonna take me a while to get adjusted to that. I don't deal with change very well when I know it's happening, and I've been reeling since the bomb got dropped on me Saturday afternoon that she was terminated.

On a completely unrelated note, I broke the heaters again.
Fuck this.

UPDATE INVOLVING TEARS SO I CAN'T BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR SPELLING ERRORS:

So my boss just called, for the very last time.
I can't properly express how much this woman has helped me. I came into this job knowing that I was a badass on the front desk, and I could rock the night audit like no tomorrow, and I figured that would be all. She made this place like a family, somewhere where yes, there is bickering and some backstabbing but what family doesn't have that? She cared about us all so fucking much, I'm not exaggerating when I say she is was the heart of this fucking hotel.

She called, and we talked for a minute and then I started to cry because it's the last time I'm going to hear her voice over the phone. There won't be anymore 4-5am  calls that trigger me into a more professional mode, that remind me that construction guys are waking up, unlock the doors.. I won't have that connection to the hotel now.

Monika has always been fair, and has such a huge heart, that the entire hotel is grieving. Our regulars who were here this weekend are upset, the construction crews coming in today are going to be upset, especially if the owner comes in and revokes the construction special rates...

She said a lot of wonderful and inspiring things to me, for me, and then she asked me to pass on a message to everyone else that she couldn't say goodbye to, because she will never come back here again. I told her I would, and I will write a note today and put it upstairs in the housekeeping office because I don't want to think about what the owner will do to anything that has her mark.

This weekend sucked. Today sucks,and I'm apparently getting sick so expect me to be a whiny bitch for the rest of the week.


I know that bosses come and go, but she is the only boss that I have ever tried to do better for. Be better for, because she commanded that sort of respect and awesomeness. She cared.

This owner? Doesn't even know my name.
Didn't even know we had hired my friend to work part time on the desk, or that one of the girls was on sick leave and has been since the middle of fucking December.

But he clearly knows whats best for us.


Long day.

Very first post from my phone (aka my laptop is already closed and I'm waiting for the next shift)

I am mere minutes away from going home and packing up for the weekend.

I just wanted to wish you all a great weekend and I promise a proper tale is coming your way soon!

Lots of love and snuggles,
Ninja