So its 2:30am & i dont have any coffee. Have to wake the Boy up at 3:30 so may as well get the hell up, right? This is the thanks I get for not being a diva & making housekeeping come. Out of coffee. Ok...I got this. So i go downstairs to the front desk & she only has decaf. is that alright? The genius asks. Ummm...no. Because i came downstairs at bloody 2:30am with a fake fingernail missing & hair that looks like a Tesla experiment so I could get some decaf coffee, clown. I ask her to raid the housekeeping room. She looks at me as if i just laid a litter of kittens out the side of my neck. I did look, maam. NOW, I am pissed. Nobody calls ME maam. Nobody. I feel like transmorphing into Julianne Moore in Magnolia, where shes at the pharmacy & freaks on the clerk when he called her maam, but dont have the time to win an Oscar at the moment, so I say, Not the front desk stash, girl, the housekeeping closet stash. She doesnt know what I mean. I used to work at the goddam Crescent Hotel in Beverly Hills, everybody knows there is an extra stash with shit in it. So I have to walk to the Marriott & beg them for coffee pods for the pot. After ten minutes enunciating PODS from POT (at this point, I wish theyd given me some pot) Noah freaking Webster understands & finds me four of them. So now I am chain-smoking like Geronimo on a triple espresso, waiting for the shit to percolate. Gluing my damn fake fingernail that Warner likes onto my hand, its stuck to my damn knee, and thinking about crying real tears over what Congressional argan oil law its going to take to get my hair off of the ceiling & oh...coffee is ready!
Posted on: Wed, 01 Oct 2014 07:29:49 +0000
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