Lance Bass Ruined My Life

Minions Beware

So despite my coworkers best attempts, I have been able to finish reading the great Oprah biography that came out recently. I’m not going to lie, it didn’t really change the way I thought about Oprah. I went in thinking she was a bit full of herself and left thinking she was even more full of herself. (Like I’m really surprised she hasn’t tried to copyright the letter O already.) But I think I have solved the mystery of her constant weight flux. It’s pretty obvious that she has been gaining weight so that there is room in her body for her ego.

 

The one thing that I have always maintained in my quest to be the Nega Oprah is that I think it is ridiculous that she credits herself for bringing back reading to the world. You know what? I was reading for a long time before Oprah started her book club and so were millions of people. But Saint Oprah thinks she it’s because of her and nothing is going to change her mind because apparently she is always right.

 

I was a little disheartened to find out that I have read one of the books in Oprah’s book club, something that I have long been proud of not doing. My only consolation is I didn’t enjoy it, never finished it, and the author actually rejected being a book club pick, something that actually makes me want to go back and read it, except I remember it sucked so bad that I didn’t even bother taking it off the plane I was on.

 

But I will admit this. When I was reading the book, I wasn’t really looking at it as a biography or an inside look into America’s richest egoist, I was reading it as an instruction manual. You see, Oprah is the kind of tyrant that I only wish I could be. (And one day will.)

 

I mean I want to run a company that sends private investigators after every single person she employs. I also want to be so powerful that I can make all of my employees (See: minions) sign a contract that forbids them to say my name outside of the building. Or sign another contract that forbids them from saying anything negative about me. I mean, wow. It says something about a person who can control that many people.

 

So let this be a warning to all my future minions out there. Oprah has shown me the way. I mean, yes there will be fringe benefits, like the hot guys in the mailroom who will have to deliver the mail in their underwear, but I am going to be a ruthless dictator. And when people get upset, I will tell them, “Blame Oprah.”

 

It’s just another legacy that Ms. O will have left behind. Like inflicting Gayle and Tyra on the world.

Satan, Thy Name Is Tampax

My life has been ruined by many things. Random people. Overly homosexual ten year olds. The Commandant. Pissy corporate people who run the bookstore. Myself. A certain hotel chain that shall not be named. And obviously Lance Bass. (Really the list could go on with my tendency to blame all of my problems on other people.) But now I have something new to add to my list.

 

A tampon.

 

Yes, that’s right. A tampon has ruined my life.

 

As a big faming homo, I thought my life would be free of the dreaded tampon, but it is not so. Over the years, my hags have plagued with the issue. I’ve had to buy them and I have had to talk about them. Ladies, I’m just not that interested.

 

Now what I am about to say is probably going to be very insensitive to women everywhere. But this weekend I was supposed to be off to enjoy a wonderific couple of days lying in bed, watching the Tudors, and reading the new Oprah biography. Alas, this was not meant to be because my co worker is a dipshit.

 

Apparently she couldn’t come to work because her doctor said she was severely dehydrated because her tampon got lost inside of her. Okay, ladies, I have to ask. Is this a common occurrence? Do tampons just get lost in there on a regular basis or does this girl just have a big gaping vagina?

 

I mean I have gotten called into work for a lot of stupid shit before, but never because someone lost their tampon. And this really brings about a really interesting question? Why didn’t she realize the tampon was gone in the first place? Like, she put it up there? What did she think happened to it? She just went to the doctor and he told her she had toxic shock and it suddenly dawned on her the she forgot all about that thing?

 

All I’m saying is if this girl could pay attention to what’s going on in her vagina a little more carefully, then I wouldn’t have to get called into work on my beloved days off. And now she feels that I am somehow obligated to make sure she gets some of my hours to make up for the ones she missed in the Tampon Crisis of 2010. I think not, missy.

 

This just must be one of life’s little secrets that those with a penis are not privy too.

Skanky Bitches And The Front Desk Workers Who Hate Them

So me and the bartender got into a fight the other night. It’s pretty much the same shit we always fight about. That she’s a drunk whore who has no business being in a profession where she spends the majority of her time near alcohol. It feeds not only her drunkenness but also her whoriness. Neither of which or pretty.

 

So the deal was that the bar closed at midnight but the bartender and he skank ass boyfriend, along with another friend of theirs, stayed up there until like 3 am. I’m sure drinking. Well this made the bar owner very upset, evidenced by the fact that she kept calling every two minutes to scream about them still being up in the bar, like it’s my fault or something. Apparently I am the Pied Piper of Skanks and have control over that. Oh and in a nice white trash twist, the bar owner is the bartender’s mother.

 

They finally decide to leave but apparently are too drunk and/or stupid to operate a motor vehicle so they wanted to rent a room. Only problem is they thought they were special enough to check in at three in the morning and stay until check out the next day. Yeah it doesn’t work like that. Check in time is 3 pm. So basically they wanted 12 hours for free. Not really going to happen. Commandant Doucheface already hates me, I don’t need to be giving away shit to make it worse.

 

So all this drama ensues, because let’s face it, if I’m at work, drama will be ensuing. The bartender calls her mom so that she will force me to let them stay in a room. Because I’m so likely to do something that someone who isn’t my boss orders me to do. Well, at this point her mom gets so fed up with her that she calls me and tells me to not let her stay at the hotel and let her skeezy boyfriend drive her home. Sounds like a plan to me so that’s what I do.

 

Well after I left for the night, they go behind my back to the guy who thinks he’s the manager but isn’t at all so basically, he’s just the guy who we pay to annoy guests and smell like peanut butter. Then it becomes all about how horrible I am. But the thing is, I’m off the clock so basically I couldn’t give a shit if I tried. Well, apparently, this bitch caused so much trouble they finally just checked her into a room to shut her the fuck up.

 

And that led us to tonight. Everything was going fine until I caught her and her friend sneaking into the kitchen so they could go to the bar without being seen. Because her mom said she wasn’t allowed to go into the bar for 3 days like that was some sort of fucking punishment. Why does everyone seem to forget that there are fucking cameras everywhere and they are going to get caught? Well they run away like the two stupid bitches they are.

 

Five minutes later I get a phone call. It’s Whory Bartender. Because really? Who else could it be? She goes on a tirade about how I’m a fucking tattle tale and I’m going to go cry to her mom about everything she does because I’m such a fucking pussy. I’m not exactly sure how long it took her to realize I hung up on her but I’m assuming she sat there for a while yelling obscenities because she didn’t call back for ten minutes. This time it’s to tell me she wants an apology for the cruel and harsh way I’ve been treating her.

 

So I calmly tell her, “Well, I want you to come down here, get on your knees (which probably isn’t an uncommon position for her), and kiss the very fattest part of my ass but I doesn’t look like that’s going to happen either. Some dreams just have to be let go. But here’s what I will do for you. If you don’t shut the fuck up and stop calling the front desk, I will call the cops and have them arrest you for drunk and disorderly conduct as well as being a whore.”

 

I’m not quite sure if I could have gotten her arrested for either, but apparently the threat alone was good enough because the bitch hung up the phone and I didn’t hear from her for the rest of the night. It’s all good though. She won’t remember shit that happened through her boozy delusional fog. That would be asking a whole lot of that one lonely brain cell.

I May Never Go Swimming Again

In my time here at the hotel, I’ve had to do a great many things that I have not wanted to do and find morally unacceptable, like talking to other people. The one thing that I find the most horrible and makes me want to yank my brain out through my nose is having to kick naked people out the pool. It happens more times than I like to think about.

 

I really do not understand why people feel the need to go skinny dipping in the middle of the night. I mean, you are in public. Is there such a thing as shame anymore? I assume people think they can get away with it because there are no rooms over looking the pool and once the bar is closed it is extremely private. That would be true if it weren’t for a fact there is a camera pointed right at their naked asses. And every once in a while I get it into my head to check the cameras. And be an ass about it.

 

The sad reality is that if it was hot naked people I wouldn’t be so pissed off about it. But it never is.

 

Well, let’s just say that that was the least of my problems tonight.

 

It was around 12:30 and I was out front on my third cigarette break since I had gotten here at 11 o’clock and I saw movement through the windows at the pool. I slowly feel my soul being sucked out of my body because I have to go kick them out and chances are good that they were naked. So I go check the cameras, but since they are sort of cheap I can’t really tell what is going on out there, but I can tell that there are people at the pool. So I head on out there armed with my get the fuck out of here face.

 

I get out there and I can’t see the people from the entrance. What I do see however are soaking wet swimsuits tossed on the side of the pool. No good can come from this. I know this now. Just like I know it can only end in tears.

 

So I take a deep breath, steel myself against the inevitable, and walk through the gate to the pool. That’s when I see it. Back in the corner is the couple who belong to the abandoned swimsuits. Naked of course. But not just naked. In the midst of full blown intercourse.

 

I’m not just talking about sex here. I am talking about hardcore, nasty, unattractive people sex. It’s not the kind of thing you want to have burned into your retina. I am sure there are people out there who are into watching uglies bumping their uglies together but I am surely not one of them.

 

It’s times like this when I have to ask, “Who did I piss off in a past life that this shit happens to me?” I mean, why can’t my life be a good porno, like the new one that just came out, Jersey Score, instead of the low budget, All The Hot People Were Busy So We Had To Make Due.

 

So here’s a question for you, what would you do in this situation? If you said, yell very loudly “Excuse me! I’m not sure if you are aware, but you are on camera right now. I suggest you stop what you are doing unless you would like me to upload the video onto the internet so that the whole world can see the grossness that is you.” then we are on the same wavelength.

 

I’ll say this though. It was almost worth having to burn off my retinas with a cigarette lighter to watch the butt ugly couple run away screaming like someone had set them on fire, which was my next course of action. (And yes, I did save the video so I could show the manager that I actual like. Let’s just say that she bruised her butt from falling out her chair because she was laughing so hard.)

Hell Is Other People's Children

Okay, so I’ve never been really fond of children. I think it is mostly because they are just like people only smaller, and I am definitely not fond of people. So if you are like me in this regard, I am going to give you a little piece of advice. Never, and I mean never, become a substitute teacher. I only thought I hated kids before. And you know, schools don’t let you hit them, even though some of them could use a good spanking.

 

So I picked up this job at an elementary school this week. I thought it might be a nice little break from all the evil that is middle school. In ways I was right. I had a lovely fourth grade class who was so well behaved and did their work. It was fun. Until I picked up another job for the fifth grade. I now know not to do this again unless I am ready to fork over a lot of money for therapy.

 

Everything started out okay. I had met the teacher I was subbing for a couple days before and she was a fucking bitch, so the students were a little scared still. And it wasn’t so hard because the fifth grade was split into two classes and I had the other teacher to help me. So I pretty much had just the normal sub things to worry about. The kids talking when they were supposed to be working, but I even found a way to get around that. It turns out if you want them to shut up all you have to do is pull up a chair and sit next to them. There is nothing that a student hates more than having the teacher sit next to them.

 

And that was all working until lunch time. The kids got out from school early that day, so they didn’t have much time after lunch before they went home, so the other teacher said we were going to cancel the rest of class and take the students outside to play for the last hour. He had me take them out while he ran to the office. Okay, I let this go because I basically needed the money, but why would you leave a sub in charge of two classes on a playground? Aren’t teachers supposed to be smart?

 

So let’s just say I survived. It wasn’t easy, but I got through it because I knew that the other teacher would be there any minute to help me get them back to class when it was time. Well, guess who never showed up?

 

Now it’s time to get the kids back to class. This is also about the same time that the kids realize that their real teacher probably isn’t coming back, so they did the math and realized that there were 45 of them and only 1 of me. Oh yeah, they staged a little revolt. And this little shit who apparently thought he was Puck from Glee with the fucked up hair thing and attitude problem declared himself the leader.

 

I’m just saying that I am lucky to have gotten out of there alive. Have you even tried to control a line of 45 fifth graders? Guess what, it cannot be done. It just can’t. They were screaming, hitting each other, and being a total disruption to the entire school. I had teachers sticking their heads out their classrooms to give me looks of shame like you wouldn’t believe, but not a single one of them thought it necessary to help me. I finally asked the only girl in line who knew how to behave to run to the office to tell their teacher to get his fucking ass back there before I went and found him and threw a fifth grader at him. (Not my exact words.) A minute later, she comes back to tell me that the teacher went home for the day.

 

The teacher went home for the day and left me with two classes to run. Oh yeah, he did that shit. He is so very lucky that I don’t know his home address because if I did, he would be hung from his toes right now. I’m just saying, why would you do that? 45 fifth graders. One sub who doesn’t particularly care for fifth graders. How did that seem like a good idea?

 

So when they found out that their teacher was gone, the kids lost their fucking minds. So I did the only thing I could do. I gave up. I told the kids to get in their classrooms, get their stuff, and get out of my face. (My exact words.) They didn’t need to be told twice.

 

Five minutes after the kids ran away to I don’t care where, the school nurse comes to the room telling me she was told to come help me. I told her yes, I did need help. Twenty minutes ago. Where was she when the students were yelling and screaming and making me want to kill them? And shouldn’t she have been here sooner seeing as the people in the office knew the teacher had left like an hour before.

 

So yeah, I am never going to that school again. I mean I get it that students are going to act up when there is a sub there, but I just can’t take the fact that the teachers are complete morons and have, hopefully, been sterilized so that they never have children of their own. I’m thinking about starting a collection to send them all to the moon. It would give me peace of mind knowing that they would never be able to influence children again.

 

Who am I kidding? The kids are totally going too.

An Interesting Way To Get Through The Night

Okay, so I have another story about how horrible my coworker is. Do you feel up to it? Wait, why am I even asking? It doesn’t really matter if you are or not because I’m going to tell you anyway. And if you don’t like it you can totally get to steppin’ where I’m sure you will meet the mysterious bitchy hermaphrodite from last week. (But really don’t go anywhere. It’s a really good story. Besides, I wuv you.)

 

So I don’t remember if I told you this already and I am way too lazy to search through all my blog posts to find out, but the girl who works at night on my days off is crazy. This is the same girl who auditioned for America’s Next Top Model. But her crazy goes way beyond that. She thinks the hotel is haunted. I’m not saying it couldn’t happen because maybe the ghost of good taste is walking the halls waiting to avenge its murder. But she thinks it’s really haunted. She has been telling me stories about this old white guy who walks around the lobby in a dark cloak carrying a do not disturb sign. Also there is apparently the ghost of a flight attendant with clacky heels and squeaky luggage who just randomly walks the halls at night.

 

So, of course, my first reaction was WTF? (In text speak and everything.) But now I know where all these stories are coming from.

 

I finally got a night off the other night because Crazy finally came back from her second weeklong vacation since she started two months ago. (Yeah, I want to know who she is blowing.) So since I couldn’t sleep I went up to the hotel at like three in the morning to get my paycheck. Yeah, I am aware of how fucked up that is. And what should I find? Crazy and her male best friend whom she says she is not doing but totally is doing because it’s soooo obvious sitting there higher than me after a Popeye’s Biscuit fix. I’m talking Lindsey Lohan high.

 

So just for the hell of it I sat with them for a little while because I’ve sort of missed the inane chatter of the perpetually stoned since my college days. Oh and they did not disappoint. Did you know that at some unknown point in the future the north and south poles are just going to switch for no apparent reason and kill off 99.9% of the population? Or that smartphones were created by the government so that it could keep tabs on everyone through GPS, but it’s okay because Crazy’s friend has a shitty Nokia from like 1999 so he’s safe from Big Brother’s prying eyes. Or that more people gain weight when they start smoking because smoking fucks up people’s pooping cycle.

 

Say it with me. WTF?

 

It must be nice to just be able to come to work and get high and still be able to have a job in the morning. And on top of that, not even try to hide it well. I mean what else am I supposed to assume when her rolling papers kept falling out of her bra? I guess it’s amazing what sexual favors can get you.

 

On a somewhat related note, this is my 500^th blog post. I want everyone to take a moment to absorb the shock. 500. That’s either really good because I’ve managed to keep with this thing for so many years that I have reached that benchmark, or really sad because I actually have that much too bitch about.  

You Hate Me. You Really Hate Me.

You know there is nothing I love more than hearing from my lovely readers about how much they love me and that they think I’m hilarious and that I might have possibly made them pee in their pants a little. Well, that’s not exactly true. There is one thing that I love more than that. It’s hearing from people who hate me. Something about it fills with me joy, or bitter rage, I really can’t tell the difference anymore.

 

So I checked my email while I had a break between classes today. I had to wait for the students to leave the classroom because iPhone and I are keeping our love a secret for now. This is what I found in my inbox.

 

What is wrong with you? Can’t you just shut up? What’s the point of writing all this and posting it on the internet? Are you so miserable with your life that you can’t be happy unless you are trying to bring other people down? Get a life. Loser.

 

Your blog sucks.

 

Ah. It was so refreshing. So I thought about it and when I got home from school, I crafted a beautifully worded reply. Here it is.

 

To answer your first question, there are many things wrong with me, but the real question you should be asking is what the fuck is wrong with you? I could say that you seem like a tool who should mind their own business but since you didn’t have the balls to sign a name, I don’t know if you are man or a woman. I could just assume that you are a hermaphrodite and make it easier on me. Let’s see, for you second question, I’m going to go with yes, I can shut up but I choose not to. And you could ask yourself the same question as to what is the point of reading a website that you so clearly hate and taking the time to send a mean spirited email about it? Also, I think I have made it abundantly clear that yes I am that miserable and I am trying to drag everyone down with me. If you had read my blog for more than five second, you could have saved yourself the finger muscles that it took to type that question. I have a life, thank you very much, you might want to take your own advice because your life seems a little empty. Bitch.

 

Yes, my blog may suck but so does your mom.

 

So I sat there for a while after writing this and stared at it. I feel that my biggest problem is that I am very verbose. Maybe this mystery hermaphrodite is right and I should just shut up sometimes. So I decided that I needed to edit. I worked really hard to get the maximum amount of bitchy in as few words as possible.

 

Here’s what I came up with.

 

Your mom

 

Send.

It's Not For The Fucking Children

I want you to think of the scariest thing you can ever imagine. Whatever it is that strikes fear into your heart. Roller skating clowns. A world without Popeye’s Biscuits. President Brittney Spears. Now I want you to forget all about it because I know of something so much scarier than all that. (Even scarier than Tyra’s irrational fear of dolphins.)

 

Since I was so rudely ejected from the bookstore (which by the way, since I’ve left the store has pretty much run into the ground and I’m laughing my ass off about it) I have found myself with only one job and not a whole lot of money. Well, I went and got myself another second job. (Actually now I have three, which just makes me way cranky.) But my second job is where the scary shit happens. I am not a substitute teacher. Tell me that the fact that I am now in charge of children does not scare the absolute shit out of you.

 

In the couple weeks that I have been doing this, I have learned one very valuable lesson. Middle school kids are evil. Like there is something in the water, or pumped in the air that turns these kids in to the spawn of Satan.

 

Now I need some help from the ladies out there. You could probably answer this because I think you might have some inside knowledge that I am not privy too. What exactly happens to girls when they get into middle school, especially around 7^th grade, that turns them into demons? Like is there some government experiment going on that is not known to the general public? Because if this is what is happening, it would have been nice to know before I started this job.

 

I would say that I can solve this problem with trying to only work at all boys schools, but I don’t think that would really work. Because while the boys are not as evil as the girls, they have their very own set of fucked upedness. Like why do they have to touch every single thing they pass? I swear these boys have never met a single locker that they didn’t absolutely have to fuck with. I swear I yelled, “If it’s not yours, don’t touch it” so many times I am pretty sure it is permanently scarred onto my brain.

 

Though these kids were in for a little bit of a rude awakening. I have found out a couple things about the whole education process these days. Kids are so used to being babied in the classroom that they just think they can get away with anything. Well, they’ve never had me as a sub. They were pretty much shocked as shit when I screamed SHUT UP as loud as I could. I’m pretty sure the class next door heard me. It was like they had never heard those words before. Which they probably haven’t. Because teachers aren’t supposed to tell the kids to shut up anymore.

 

Well, guess what, shut up is a very large part of my vocabulary and I plan to use it, especially if the kids don’t shut the fuck up.