NIPPLELICIOUS

Alright, that is enough! I've had it up to the tippy top of my 5'3" body. Apparently there are people in this world who are under the mistaken impression that a hotel, even a cheap ass local hotel, is their garbage bag of the world. Their little spot to treat as dirty as they do their own house. I'm here to lay down the ground rules, a little How To when it comes to staying in a hotel. Pay attention this is going to be very easily understood for even the most ADD of you all.




There are simple rules when it comes to staying in a hotel room. Whether you are there for one night or ten, with friends or by yourself, or if it is a booty call or a gay orgy. There are things you should do and things you shouldn't. I never thought I would actually have to list these out, but apparently the hotel packets are lacking in the full rules for hotel stays.

1. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR SEX TOYS, UNDERWEAR, AND OR USED CONDOMS LYING ON THE FLOOR: Seriously, do I look like the type of woman who wants to reuse your used up booty call objects? No. So pack up the sex toys and underwear, and throw your used condoms in the garbage cans provided. We're so nice, we even give you two garbage cans to use. I do not want to find anymore used condoms on the floors, in the beds, or laying on the television.

2. PLEASE TAKE THE PORN TAPES YOU DON'T WANT YOUR WIFE TO KNOW YOU WATCH HOME: Leaving your gay pre-teen double rage porn DVDs under the mattress does not make you any less gay. It does make you a laughable joke, and someone who now has a note in the computer as "creepy pervert" in order for us to laugh at you again the next time you check in. Take them home with you.

3. WIPE UP YOUR OWN FLUIDS: I really should not have to say this. But if you decide to shoot your "money shot" anywhere other than the normal places, clean that shit up. Shooting a wad on the window and writing words in it does not impress.

4. WATCH YOUR DRUNKS: If you choose to have a drunken party, keep an eye on your own drunks. I don't have time to chase the naked guy down the parking lot, or pick the drunken women crawling around in her knees, up. Take care of your own.

5. LEARN WHERE THE TOILET IS: That's right boys and girls. Its in that little square room with no carpet and it has a beautiful water filled tank just for your urine. That does not mean piss the beds, the fridge, or the bath tub. If you do choose this route, clean up your own damn piss.

6. NO MATTER HOW KNOWLEDGEABLE I AM, I DO NOT PROCURE DRUGS OR HOOKERS: Asking your housekeepers where you can buy hookers or drugs is another no no. We aren't pimps or dealers, and more than likely we are now watching your room for any action so we can call the cops on you, have you arrested, dump your stuff, and not refund your money.

7. THERE ARE CURTAINS FOR A REASON: See those dark thick things hanging to the side of the window? The first thing you should do upon entering a room is CLOSE THE FECKING CURTAINS. I have no desire to see your large hairy ass stalking across the room in an Elvis impersonation. I also have no willingness to see you passed out drunk naked covered in your own vomit.

8. CHECK OUT TIME- LEARN IT, LOVE IT, USE IT: When the front desk girl informs you that check out time is 11:00 am, and it says 11:00 am check out on your receipt, that does not mean you leave your hotel room after repeated knocks and break ins from the housekeepers at 1 pm. I don't care how hungover you are or how you have no where else to go. Get out already! We have lives too and would love to get on with them before we turn 80 years old.

9. BEER GOES A LONG WAY TO MAKING UP FOR BEING A MISERABLE GUEST: If you leave the room trashed and smelling of a local pub that hasn't been cleaned in ten years, the least you could do is leave the unopened leftover booze in the fridge. Don't worry about it being lonely, we snatch it up, lovingly carry it on our carts, take it home with us, and gladly drink it up later as we reminisce about the messy rooms they came from.

10. A HOUSEKEEPER IS AN UNDERPAID UNDER TIPPED SERVER: Just remember, a housekeeper cleaned your room, supplied you with fresh clean linens, came back when you asked for more and if you are staying more than one night she has come into your room with your personal weird items and cleaned around them. A small tip is not only gladly appreciated, it makes up for the trash you leave behind. Two dollars for a one night stay is not overly pricey. If you choose to stay longer, leave a dollar a day. That is not asking much from the women who clean your shit out of the toilets, your pubes out of the bath tub, and your "wads" from the bed sheets. Now if you have crappy service, just like a crappy server, of course no tip is needed.

11. JUST BECAUSE WE WORK SHITTY JOBS, DOESN'T MAKE US DESPERATE: No I don't want to go for a drink with you after my shift. I work as a head housekeeper, that makes me in need of a job, not a date from a lonely worker who's wife is waiting at home in some other state. Keep your flirting to the bars and clubs, leave us alone.

12. MY LAUNDRY ROOM/CART ROOM/FRONT DESK ARE NOT YOUR HANG OUT: These are OUR areas, its where we go for not only our supplies, but our sanity. Please don't enter these areas and hang around for some chit chat. Not only do we not have time for it, but we really don't want to hear about your sad life story. Last time I checked it was MY hand in your toilet scrubbing away, not yours.

13. CHILDREN, LIKE PETS NEED A LEASH: I am not a pet sitter nor a child sitter. It is not my job to keep track of where your loved ones went. Keep your children in your rooms and away from the phones, microwaves, and fire alarms. As for your pets, not only do I not want to clean up their shit, but you probably didn't inform us you had one anyways. Which means I now have to clean a room filled with dog hair that you didn't pay to leave laying around.

14. VOMIT IS NOT A FOOD GROUP: Everyone gets sick at some point in time, we understand this. However, this does not mean I want to come into a room and find your vomit on the floor, the bed, the fridge, or the sink. Clean it up and throw away the towels when you're done. We not only have no need to see it, we can't use them after they've been covered in vomit anyways.

15. YOU WANT TREATED AS A GUEST, ACT LIKE ONE: When you choose to stay in a hotel, act as if you're in a family members house. That means pick up your own trash, flush your own toilet, and take your things when you're done. Some of our favorite regulars we go out of our way for simply because they are wonderful guests. This means their linens are ALWAYS fresh, they get extras, and if they need something unexpected, we try to get it for them. We also have the regulars we can't stand. We know they don't tip, we know they trash the rooms, and we know they do nothing but complain about everything from the freeway noise to the leaves on the ground. Trust me, I do nothing but the basics for these people.

See, the rules are simple. They aren't ridiculous and should be common sense. It is unfortunate that in this day and age people have none. One more rule that should be added though: Please don't choose a hotel to hide a body, or die in. That's really taking "horror hotel" to an extreme no one wants to see.

I should feel guilty right about now. I've made the decision NOT to inform my employers I am quitting until right before I leave town. Not a decision I make lightly, but from the hell I've been through at the Horror Hotel I can honestly say they have this one coming. From vomit rooms to gun toting drug dealers, from days off turned into calls in to dying co workers, this place is honestly trying to be the death of me. So I'm fighting the injustice the only way I can.



Today was my day off. I swear it was. Yet I ended up at the Horror Hotel due to a frantic phone call from my GM once again. This time the fire extinguisher guy was back and she needed my list of what ones we hadn't replaced 2 weeks ago. There I was, driving back out there once again. I was actually scared of what I would find.

Friday was the morning the new front desk kid collapsed. He crashed onto the floor and looked to be having a Grand Mal Seizure. We called 911 and the whole time I was on the floor next to him, I kept yelling "DON'T STOP BREATHING I CAN'T REMEMBER CPR, DON'T YOU STOP BREATHING KID"! Luckily he didn't. But I did end up going to the hospital and sitting with him for 2 1/2 hours because I couldn't just leave him there alone. I was waiting for his mother to get there. Of course she was called right away, to which she replied she was in class. Must be one damn long ass class for her to take that long to get there. Needless to say, that front desk guy is now replaced by yet another one. I have to help train him tomorrow. Oh and before you forget, I don't do front desk, never have.

Friday also found me the victim of the "gun in face" disease. Apparently when I knocked on a door to a regulars room, she didn't tell me to enter, she told me to wait. As I walked in, two men turned around, one of which was holding a gun. Hence the interrupted drug deal. Nicely done Nips. I was able to unfreeze and walk out, and of course I nearly had to change my drawers.

As I run around like a chicken with my head cut off, I find it amazing that the amount of work I do, I still get paid the same amount as everyone else. I do NOT get head housekeeping wages as there is still a wage freeze going on.

Hence, I feel no need to inform them that not only am I leaving in 20 days, but the laundry girl goes with me. She told me yesterday she refuses to work there without me and is quitting when I do. So you see, Karma kicks the Injustice ass this time!

Well aren't you feeling special by now. Two posts in one week!! But this one is just so juicy, so scandalous, so probably gonna get me put on the FBI watch list that I have to share it with you my lovely readers.

I've been pulling laundry duty more often this past week so my normal laundry girl can have time off with her as of tomorrow husband, who just happens to have one month of leave before he ships out to join the war. Not a bad duty to fill, just keeps me on my toes as I have to keep doing my normal job of making sure shit gets done.

We have one guest I will call "Pinky" that has been with us for about a week now. He has no car, but gets picked up by multiple men at all times during the day. Yesterday we got our first real good glimpse of him and his room. Neither one left me with a good feeling. In fact after seeing both sights, I laughed so hard I almost pissed my pants, I know for sure I snorted quite a few times.

This "man", and I use that term oh so lightly when referring to him was wearing a bright pink lacey shirt, skin tight jean, black eyeliner, and bright pink lipstick. He greets all of his pick-er uppers with a kiss to both cheeks.

The housekeeper refused to go into his room by herself, so of course I was recruited. His room has this odd smell. Its not incense, its not pot, I just cannot place it. On his bed were two pair of men's boxers. What makes these so unique is that placed over top of them were women's thongs. I don't mean thrown on top either. I mean he wears them boxers first, thongs second.

On his sink was some sort of black powder with a label that boasted of making your hair not only darker, but thicker as well. I don't know if that works, but I do know it stained the sink, the counter top, the bath tub, and towels.

On his credenza was his Turkish passport that listed his religion as Islam, and his Koran laying next to that.

Of course there is only one conclusion to all of these clues: We are harboring the worlds only Gay Cross Dressing Hooker Terrorist!! It sounds like an oxymoron, but if you really get down to the nitty gritty there is no other explanation.

I don't know what evil plot he has in mind. Whether its spreading a special blend of STD's among the cross dressing underground or trying to blend in and simply pretending to keep us from realizing his real objectives of blowing up the local electric plants or the nuclear power plant!

If you're reading this Mr. FBI watchman, leave me a comment, I'll let ya know exactly where to pick up this hardened criminal. Just make sure you bring your own gloves we're pretty short on supply here.

I knew it was a bad omen 3 days ago when my dust buster mini van started knocking and rocking. I knew for sure I wasn't doing it, no rocking and knocking here for a long damn time and sure as heck not in my van. Bad omen aside, little did I realize 2 days later I would be freezing the nips off as I did something I yell at my children to NEVER EVER DO!!

Lets start 3 days ago. I was just leaving work after a day from hell and I heard this noise coming from my engine. Knowing full well I have that damn massive oil leak, I stop at a BP, pay in blood for 2 quarts of oil. No, seriously. These two quarts of oil cost me $13!!! The knocking didn't go away. Next day by the time I got to work, the knocking was so loud even blaring my radio didn't shut it up. Again I make a pit stop on the way home, this time to an auto repair shop. As upset as I got, it was still funny the way these two gentlemen went about telling me what was wrong. They both came into the lobby where I was sitting, sat down on either side of me with faces so long and sad I thought they would cry. I felt like I was in a hospital and the doctor just told me a loved one passed away.

Man One: "I don't know how to tell you this, but it isn't good news".

Man Two: "Due to your oil leak and the up and down levels, the valves are knocking in your engine".

Man One: "What he means is, your motor is ready to blow".

Me: "How long do I have"?

Man Two: "We can't estimate that, it could be days, or it could be tomorrow".

Man One: "Is there anyone we can call?"

Me: "sNo. Fuck it, I'll drive the piece of shit till it croaks."

Man One: "Please don't hesitate to let us know if there is anything we can do to help you further".

As I sat in my dying car, I began to scream at him. I've decided its a man because he never does what I ask no matter how many nice things I get him, or how much attention I pay him. He just takes and takes, and eventually croaks with no warning leaving me with nothing but debts instead of insurance money.

So yesterday I fulfill my plan of driving that POS car until it dies. I get on a main freeway to get to work early in the morning. I made it almost there when suddenly I hear a BANG, BANG, BOOOOOM..and smoke began pouring out the back. I make it to the side of the road just as he gave his final breath. I didn't cry, I didn't scream, I simply said goodbye to a faithless friend. I was smart and crawled out the passenger door and began the 3 mile walk to work on the freeway. It was scary as hell, I was freezing within 50 feet of my death van, and people just kept on going by at about 70 mph or more. Finally one truck that looked as if it should have died years ago pulls up and a scary looking man offers me a ride. I actually paused and thought to myself on whether or not I should accept. I tell you this: If I hadn't have been so damned cold, I wouldn't have. But in I got and made it to work alive and untouched.

So a co worker hooks me up with a car dealer friend of hers. He says he'll take $600 cash and $200 a month with no interest. The only car he has available for me is a Cavalier since I can't drive stick shift. I say great at this point I will take what I can get. This morning we towed my van to a scrapyard where I finally get a look at the hole in my block. Its larger than a baseball. I said my private farewells with a minimum amount of tears and drive out to get my new/used car.

This car he had ready for me was worse than the one I just buried! The entire windshield was busted and when I started it up lo and behold here comes more knocking. I refused the car outright. He then showed me a Pontiac. I hate Pontiac's with a passion, but since I have to have a vehicle, I agreed to test drive it. First the key won't start without holding the brake in all the way, then there is no radio, and of course it won't start well at all. I refuse this one as well, and head down the road to another dealer.

I called them, told them my terms and they said they had a van for me. Whoo hooo, another van! I get there and the damn thing has a crack larger than a 300 pound plumber. I walked away. Luckily they told me they would replace it for me and I did get that in writing. I had to laugh though. I just buried a Plymouth Voyager and here I am the proud new owner of a Plymouth GRAND voyager. Talk about some irony. However as a vehicle is necessary to my survival and my job, I took it.

It runs like a dream. I kept gunning the gas as I had to do in my past van and before I know it, I'm doing 90 mph on the freeway. It runs so quiet I keep turning the radio off to make sure its running. Best of all, its bigger and cleaner than my former car. I love it my new Barney van as the kids call it. That's right folks, I own a purple mini van. My friends are going to love this one.

I'll take pics tomorrow and put them on here. I want to get some good ones before I dirty her up.

It has been a crazy few weeks at work lately, hence my absence. I know, its almost unforgivable. In my defense, I did have an awesome post written. I was going to complain about Time Warner Butt Monkeys and their half attempts at an excuse for the Internet going in and out. Apparently creating a new building takes down 3 counties worth of Internet users, and this will continue through late October. However, as I just got off the phone with my boss who has come up with yet another thing I can do tomorrow to try and fix a room, my temper is in a boil. I am now dedicating this post to a weak minded neglectful alcoholic dirty nasty bitch who happens to be a mother of 3 who has ruined an entire hotel room.