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! 

Tips On Whoring, From A Forced Observer

Ladies.

Ladies!

I have to tell you something.

Your tits need better support. You're slacking, literally, in that department.
Also?

Don't request to be beside your 'friends' and then have a screaming match in my hallways at 1am. That shit, will not fly anywhere. Now that you've gone back to your own beds and have resumed 'watching tv', I can honestly say that I am already sick of the Winter Whores.

Last year, they weren't nearly as bad as this. This year? I feel the need to point out some 'safety' tips.

Safety Tip One

When you are in the hotel, or around the hotel, act like you aren't a big dirty whore. Why, Ninja? Because then I won't have to get the cops to come and bust your ass and you can continue spreading your legs for minimal money. I can't see anyone paying above $20 for what you have.
Safety Tip Two

Stay Classy. Why, Ninja​? Because it makes me less inclined to call the cops. Ways to make me call the cops on you, are as follows (but obviously not limited to):
-Calling me names
- Talking to people I'm checking in and offering your services. THAT IS NOT OKAY.
- Dressing like a whore, in the most obvious and nipple-painful way. When I can see the nipple clamps on you, you're not wearing enough clothing, kids.
- Spitting outside my lobby. Or in my lobby.

Safety Tip Three

Do Not Be Dramatic. Why, Ninja? Well it's simple, Winter Whore. I know that times are getting rough, and it is a helluvalot colder now out there when you have to display your goods, so most of you have taken to working out of the hotel, rather than getting the john to pay for it. I can respect this. I have some tips in another post coming up on How To Whore Properly From A Hotel, but right now this isn't about proper hotel usage. This is about the BULLSHIT fight I just had to break up. Keeping it drama free brings the clients back and keeps my hotel name out of your filthy mouth. Let's work on that, shall we?
A Final Safety Note....

Dear Winter Whores,
Fighting in, or out of my hotel will have you kicked out on your ass. I understand this man drives a really expensive car. I do not understand why he is choosing to slum it with you, but that is not for me to judge openly. What I will judge, and what I will do, is call the police on all of you if you ever get into a catfight over another client again. I don't care who saw him first, I do not care whose number he called. I will take pictures of his face, car and license plate, along with yours and send them in anonymously to the local newspapers. I will bust this shit wide open and make sure you are banned from every single hotel in this city if you ever call me a whore, cunt or bitch again. The cameras can be turned off, sweetheart. I don't tell you how to suck cock, don't try and tell me how to do my job. Be classier, ladies. You've only got a good five years left in this industry.

Sincerely,

Ninja.

It's The End Of A Goddamn Era, Kids

Okay, so I've been in super secret ninja mode for the past... five days.
I got a job offer and it's a serious one and I had to
a) consider my options
b) figure out what the fuck I wanted to do
c) do it.

Saturday night, by the by, I only called the cops once, and it wasn't even for a hotel related issue. I had a drunk passed out (and I thought he was dead-no lie) outside leaning against my sign and it was tacky looking. I listened to the health and safety flag waving in my brain and let them boys in blue (technically black, but I didn't want to sound racist) handle that situation. Funniest twenty minutes of my life, y'all.

Anywhore.

The moral of this story, is I have 25 days left at this job, and in 30 days I am flying to a colder, much more isolated, I am almost certifiably insane, smaller province in Canada. For a year.
This is a much nicer place, people.
http://www.frobisherinn.com/ <--- yeah, I'm gonna whore that link out like one of my regular hookers. I figure if anyone really wants to pay the 900+ dollars one way to fly in and stalk my ass, they should probably get a medal.

This place is located in Iqaluit, Nunavut.
It's a once in a lifetime chance, and after five days of no sleep and so many pro and con lists, I'm doing it.
You cannot drive there, you literally have to fly (anytime) or take a ship (summer only, because otherwise...there is ice.)

So! With that all being said, because I have a year to stick it out in the cold cold North, where there is limited? internetz, I feel like the next 30 days are going to turn into a batshit crazy marathon of packing, moving, packing shit for Nunavut, saying goodbye (my first goodbyes start this weekend coming up, I'm already ready to cry) and getting ready to take on the average -30 degree temperatures.

I'm toying with the idea of doing a "moving to Iqaluit" blog, because there aren't many recent ones out there, that I've been able to find. I won't be able to write about the hotel, because I'll have my ass handed to me, but I feel like I can still write about my experiences up there. I'm sure it's going to be a crazy ride, and I want to share.

If I can't, I might just keep a journal, and then bombard you guys in a year.
Whatcha think?

An Open Letter To Less Intelligent Hookers

Dear Hooks,

Hassling the nice audit girl at the desk at 3:30 in the goddamn morning when you and she clearly know whats up? Very uncool. I don't come into your room and criticize the way you're blowing your latest 'husband', do I? I don't come up to you and tell you what flavour of condom you should buy next, or if your hair truly does look like it's 1980s meets Time Warp... no. No.I.DO.NOT.

Mainly, for the most part, hooks, I got your back. Pimp's beating you, I'll call them boys in blue so you can scatter like the wind.

You need a condom? We sell them here. You need mix for your drinks so Big Bob doesn't hurt so much? We sell pop, too. We turn a blind eye as long as you don't fucking piss us off or have too much traffic.

So, hooks, coming in and rage-yelling at me because I'm not falling for your “husband will come and pay for tonight on his credit card so give me the 90 bucks I JUST GAVE YOU NOW BITCH” schtick, ... don't you see how you've left a really bad taste in my mouth and my soul life mission is to now make it impossible for you to stay here?

I'm sorry if he's a picky bastard and won't pay for a room that you've Already paid for.
Maybe plan better next time.

Also, protip 101? Never threaten to have any night audit call the hotel owner/manager/boss.
I can guarantee you that's the quickest way to a 430am wakeup call that accidentally goes off every 15 minutes, especially if you're a bitch stubborn person about it and actually make us call.

Because we run this shit at night, and our bosses know it. Calling them is essentially like kicking yourself in the crotch with fire ants. Not only do you wake someone up in the middle of their sleep with a guest issue that you can handle on your own, but they then have to deal with an angry hooker at 345am?

Yeah.
I can't post what I want to actually say, because even under the mask of anonymity I fear backlash.
It's not pretty. It resembles a dirty sailor and trucker meeting up to have heathen babies.

-Ninja


****sidenote******

I have never been so belittled by a hooker, ever. I had some respect for this particular one before she lost her shit on me.

Bright side: It's my Friday! I'm working this weekend (heaven help me) so I get Wednesday Thursday off, go team middle of the week break!

Have a great week/end, you fine feathered creatures.

It's A Ghetto Kind Of Life: Dedicated to Jaclyn, With Love

Reading comments from my last post got me to thinking.
I should probably start by explaining my surroundings. I mean, everyone has an idea of what kind of place a hotel is. Either a shady one where you hide the good china, or one where you have people to wipe your ass. I'm kind of in the middle of that. I won't wipe anyone's ass, but for a good conversation I'll extend your check out time a couple hours so you have a chance of getting a sleep in after the drunk has happened.

To sum it up, I work in the ghetto.

People around here think I'm kidding when I say this. They'll chuckle, or shake their head in that “oh, that Ninja, she's fucking crazy, she has no idea what the 'ghetto' is... it's not like she works in Toronto”*

*I don't. I don't think you could pay me enough to work in that fucking city. Sorry. I hate the city I live and work in, but Toronto is its own goddamn planet. I mock those who come from there and call this a wee town. Also, Toronto is the fake capital of Canada. I figure it's safe to mention I'm near there. Ish. Depending on how fast you drive and all that.

Now, to cast out any doubt in your mind about whether or not I work in the ghetto (or as Jaclyn put it- the 'hood') I offer you these examples:
Bike Guy
Bike Guy (has no real name, or at least... I have yet to learn it) is a man, on a bike. He comes into my parking lot on occasion, looking for cars that are unlocked/have some valuable shit in it. My hotel and the surrounding hotels are not legally responsible for your shit that you choose to leave in the car, that you then choose to leave out in the open OR unlocked so he can rummage/fall asleep in (I shit you not, it's happened). Does that matter to you when you check out and realise your passenger door is open? Probably not. I work nights for a reason, people. Bike Guy is known by the police, and yet evades them like LiLo evades the Big House.
Hookers
I realise they are everywhere, like cockroaches. But I feel they are a vital part to my ghetto-fab life. These women are semi-decent, especially if they've got a good John to help pay the rent. My favourite brand of hookers are the ones who are new to town, have been told that we're one of the 'safer' places to go (as in, I won't call the cops if they are classy/smart about how they handle their..ahem...business) but they act incredibly bitchy when I remind them they have a patio door to 'bring their things in' from. That's not entirely code, either. Most of the rooms I give these ladies have patio doors. They can bring their luggage (or John's, y'know... whatever those kids call it these days) in through there. Rather than make me get up every other hour. Win win, people.

Nefarious Activities Around My Hotel
Two stores in a plaza across from my work have been robbed, in broad daylight. A hotel a couple hotels away from me (I work on what I affectionately dubbed “Hotel Strip” because there's 129930 hotels all rightnexttoeachotheromghowdotheypickone and we all slightly hate each other.) had someone try to break into their cash, my hotel has had a couple incidents. Oh, and around the corner (also across the street from where I used to live) there was a body discovered in the river/ravine type thing.
Storage Room Guy
Refer to last post. I mean, if I lived in the classy area, I don't think that shit would have happened, do you?

I could continue, I really could. We aren't in the absolute trashiest area of my city, but we're so close we can see the buttcrack.

Of course it makes sense to hire a 23 year old girl who has a sometimes pretty face to work the shift where she has no back up and cops around here take 40 minutes to show up... of course.*

*In all honesty, I'm normally pretty safe here. Occasionally I have to exert my bad ass ninja skillz, but, overall I'm the safest little button ever. I'm the youngest audit to work here ever, and I had to knock one of the badass maintenance guys on his ass during my interview to secure this job, but I'm a year in and have almost died only four times. Maybe five, depending on where you're sitting.

What's the most unsafe job you've ever done? Was it your favourite?

Health&Safety: How A Ninja Handles Her Shit, Safely. Sort Of.

A few months ago, I had my first annual review at this new hotel. I walked in expecting a few slaps on the wrist, because (let's face it- when I walk around barefoot all night and take no shit from anyone, I'm bound to have a few “areas of improvement” checked off) my work doesn't like to give out 100%'s to anyone. That's fine. What I didn't expect, though, was the Health and Safety area to need improvement. What I took that to mean was “Please stop jumping on the counters to clean the shelves and shutting the doors”. What they actually meant was “Start paying attention to situations that you shouldn't handle on your own and call those fine men in the blue”. Which got me thinking. I'm a total bad ass ninja 95% of my time here. I can handle it, unless knives come out (and they have. Whats up, panic buttons? Ever want to see hot half naked construction men race to the lobby in their boxers at 3am? Pull that bitch.) but there were other times that I have been told “You should have called the cops!”

Tonight, I present to you a list of scenarios, what my boss' (or coworkers) have told me to do, and what I actually did.
Situation One: Name Calling
What Happened: Guest A had checked in before I arrived for the night. Guest A went out, got absolutely smashed. Guest B had been travelling all night, come in tired and bitchy and needed the kid-glove approach to keep her from losing her shit on everyone and anything that moved. Guest A chose this time to return back to my lobby and start hitting on me. I politely advised the guest to stfu and go to bed, but he was having none of it. Guest B was irritated, Guest A sensed it with their drunken spidey sense and pounced. Explosion of tired meets drunk meets me watching as the most outrageous fight ever happens. Guest A started calling names, Guest B threw some threats out there, it was absurd. What I Should Have Done, According To My Boss: Called the cops. Hands down. Things almost escalated to a full scaled fight and we could have been liable. Or some legal bullshit. Or I could have been hurt? What I Did Instead: Safety Sam over here, I chose instead to stand and listen to the battle of drunken vs tired wits until the threats turned serious enough. Then I stepped around the safety of my counter (!) and air guided Guest A to his room while instructing Guest B on how to get to theirs. Thankfully down a different hallway. Why: I did this because I hate calling the cops.
Situation Two: Man Sleeping In LOCKED Storage Room
What Happened: I was running behind on my audit. Typical on a Wednesday night. Whatever, don't judge- hot drunk construction men see fit to entertain me with their smiles and deep voices, I'm not going to pause that shit and do 'work'. So I was running behind and karma thought it would be funny to hide printer paper. So I walked to the other side of the hotel, far away in the middle of nowhere land, to the Storage Room. This room holds many things. Decapitated clowns, chairs that people have...um... spoiled, a fridge that has beer people leave behind,... and my audit files. It also holds things like spare printer paper, boxes and the unused cots which we have. There's a patio door that has been blocked off and every night when I do my rounds I check the door by twisting it to make sure it's not unlocked. That night, it was locked. Fast forward to 5am and I'm walking in, loudly, because I'm in the middle of no where and it was time for my daily dance off. With myself.
Sleeping.On.A.Cot.
There was a man. Fully clothed (thank fucking god) but still, nonetheless. I had thrown the door open and turned the light on so I could barge in and grab my shit and be on my way. What I Should Have Done, According To My Bosses And Everyone Who's Heard This Story: Ran. Called the cops and grabbed something to defend myself with. Woken up the restaurant owner who lives in the hotel, and had him stay with me until the po-po pranced on over.What I Did Instead: Gawked at the man while he was woken up, and when he rudely gave me shit for walking into the room (Because CLEARLY I was in the wrong here, mister) I apologised and shut the light off, locked the door and closed it quietly so's not to disturb him. Yup. And then I slowly walked back to my desk, trying to figure out what the fuck happened. Waited for my boss to call, as she does every morning, and when she flipped her shit with worry I crossed my fingers when I promised to not go back down to the room again. I went back down there after the restaurant opened, with strict instructions to assume I had been stabbed and needed help if I wasn't back up at the desk within 10 minutes. Why: I hate calling the cops. I also thought, for some ridiculous reason, that the man was supposed to be there. He was very convincing in his indignation at my intrusion. Also? I went back down there because by that point I was pissed my ninja status was in question and I wanted to kick some trespassing ass. (He was gone by the time I got back down there, but he had been kind enough to leave the cot used so I know I wasn't crazy).

And Finally,

Situation Three: Ball Hockey Bastards
What Happened: Ball Hockey weekend. Refer to previous post, if you wish. Long story short, two drunk asshats decided to see who had the bigger dick in my lobby by showing off to their friends and start a pushing and yelling drunken match that had one missed punch and LOTS of dramz. What I Should Have Done, According To My Boss: Call the cops. I could have been hurt. Supposedly.

What I Did Instead: I'm clearly the Safety Expert here. I kicked my heels off, hollered louder than the jerkholes cheering the fight on, so I startled the masses, pushed my way through and forced myself between the two drunken fools. Sweet talked one into sitting in the corner while I walked the other one to his room and told him to stay there. Why: I hate calling the cops. I'd rather risk next to anything than have to give the control over to the men in blue.


***********disclaimer:************ I DO call the cops. On things like, New Year's Eve (where there's bloody spatter or girls gone fucking crazy and I have too much to deal with), when domestics are involved (of course the po-lease take a full 40 minutes to show up, so, y'know, my domestic has time to fester into a full fledged murder...), and when people try to pull a knife on me. Anything else, I try to handle that shit on my own. But a Ninja does know her limits. Maybe. Sort of.

I'm learning, people.

I hope everyone is having a fantastic weekend, I'm going to be stretching and getting ready for next weekend, formerly known as Month End Hell, Halloween Style.

Any ideas on what I can dress up as, in a work appropriate manner?
Zombies are so last year.

It's Always One Bitch Who Kicks You In The Cooter That Ruins Your Weekend...

I don't even know where to begin.
It's been a while. I know this. I'm sorry, to my three readers and one ghost, for neglecting this blog.
I have my reasons, of course. I just moved, and it wasn't a happy go lucky move, it was a “I picked the most inconvenient time for EVERY SINGLE PERSON in my life, so I had to move everything but my dresser and bed by myself” kind of move. So I'm basically a ball of sore muscles and no sleep.
I'm writing this from work, curled up in dorky unprofessional looking clothes because I thought I'd be smart and do laundry, but, it backfires when you fall asleep for too long.

I digress.

I'm back, bitches. I promise.
I still have no idea where to begin.

Work is ridiculous. I worked last weekend, and I was attacked by 18-30 year old men with sticks and burly rawrness.

Normally that gets me all flustered and excited and primping my hair and making sure I look damn delicious, because lets face it- I only get the attention from the boys at work.*
But alas, by the Saturday night I wanted to kill every fucking person in the hotel because oh my god it was almost as bad as New Years Eve. Almost.
And then I got a complaint lodged against me.

A FUCKING COMPLAINT.

I was less than thrilled to hear about it, but I wasn't going to get my panties in a bunch. Shit happens, right? I mean, that weekend was insane and I cannot possibly be expected to keep everyone super happy and ready to expel confetti and roses over the fact they were surrounded by drunk ball hockey players. I knew I'd have some angry people to deal with on Sunday morning, and I warned the girls the best I could.

I did not realise, however, that one woman who was seemingly fine with my services and said nothing to me, would ruin my perfect streak of fantastic with her bitchy fucking comment. And I know that makes me sound bitter (I am) and petty (I don't care, I am sometimes), but I wasn't given my chance to apologise or make things better. She acted like nothing was wrong, and complained only at checkout about me.

Her complaint?
I argued with her and paid more attention to other people than her when I was checking her in. At four am. Let me assure you, at four am? There were so many drunks in my lobby, that when I interrupted myself, it was to tell them to disperse and allow me to check this woman in. I was nothing but polite to her when her credit card didn't go through, and I was as helpful as I could be to a woman who drove from America to watch her two teenage boys play in this tournament.

She did not give me any indication that she was pissed off, or upset with how I acted. For a four am check in, For a check in period, she received above standard service. I am only lax with the drunks and the assholes. She was neither. She also acted like she had no issues with me all weekend. So, I still do not see where I went wrong. Either way, her actions led to me having to defend myself on my last night of work because in this industry, the guest is generally always right and we lowly workers need to back that up and apologise for offending them prettypleasecomebackandseeusagain.

I leave you with this request, peeps. If you do not like what someone in a hotel is doing, tell them. Or at least act bitchy so we know we've got shit to handle, because nothing sucks asshole more than getting blindsided by the worst written complaint in the history of ever.

And for the record, I do not apologize for my actions. I was courteous, professional and I made sure the hallway she was down was one of the quieter ones. If I'm ever wrong, I'll admit it. I own up to that shit like no tomorrow, because it's a lot easier than trying to spin it to make me look less douchey. Everyone, at some point or another, is a douche. It happens. This was not one of those times.

Thank Baby Jesus I don't work another weekend until mid-November. All I have to worry about for the rest of the month, is Month End and Halloween. Which equals one of the shittier months, Calendar Gods... planning a drinking night on the same night as a Month End. /whining.

*That statement alone may make me sound whorey- I promise, the only thing I flash them are my pearly whites.

How Far Politically Correct Reaches

Andrew: “David, what colour is the car?”
David: “Its black, Andrew.”
Andrew: “David! We’re teachers. It’s African American, not black!”

Funniest moment of my life. Andrew was far too serious.
I only know the names because I had to add them into the system. I’m not that big of a creep, y’all

Welcome To The Jungle

If you're just tuning in, welcome!
If you followed me from Tumblr, you get a cookie and sticker.
Regardless,
Welcome.

I chose to bail out of Tumblr because of the inability for my peeps to comment.
I want to hear what you have to say, what you find funny and whether or not you want to stalk me and get me fired for some of the shit I do.

Working nights at a hotel gives one a lot of tolerance for getting away with shit, I've realised.
I love my job, and feel like I need to share the funny with you fine fellows.
So, without further ado.