One of the jocks here flagged me down in the hallway awhile ago and asked if I wanted a to-go lunch that had been delivered from a local restaurant. Seems they’d sent over some free lunches in boxes decorated with “Metallica!!!” and “Please stop playing Def Leppard!!!” and there was an extra one for me.
I ate it. It was pretty good. But now… Now I’m wondering if maybe I should have passed. I’m picturing the sandwich-making process, with Beavis and Butthead making a sandwich for their radio idol and … well, improvising as they go along.
Hmm… It didn’t taste funny…
What the fuck??? It’s 11-fucking-45 p-fucking-m and this THUMP!ing noise I wrote about earlier just happened again. Seriously, it’s like someone has clean-and-jerked 300 lbs to their chest and then just dropped it on the floor.
And here I am worrying that maybe I’ve got the TV on too loud because the volume is halfway up. Well, fuck that — I’m turning off the hearing aid and going au naturel now.
On Monday mornings the day we “go live” on our software, it’s always a nervous drive in to the station for me. I tune them in on the car radio and cross my fingers that A) they’re on the air and B) spots are playing.
Today, both are true. Whew.
I don’t know what the deal is here at the luxurious Hampton Inn (you can smell the sarcasm there, can’t you?), but there’s some loud-ass shit going on around here. Someone or something keeps dropping two ton anvils or slamming nuclear blast doors or dropping bunker-buster bombs into the building or God knows what, but whatever it is, it’s loud as all hell and it’s shaking this place like a 5.2 earthquake.
Seriously, last night there was this Boom! from what sounded like the room next door and all the lampshades in my room started shaking. Just now there was another Boom! — not quite as loud or as near as last night’s heart attack, but the jolt was still strong enough to just about bounce my laptop around on the desk.
On the plus side, all the noise and shaking is making me not so homesick.
It annoys the holy piss out of me when people call California “Cali.” Knock it off, assholes.
Well, maybe there is something aboot Canada after all…
It’s 3 a.m. here and I’m still awake and I’m noodling around with Pie. I noticed the other day that the search window on the main page wasn’t working right, it kept coming up with an error message regardless of the search criteria. Now, though, it seems to be working just fine — with one exception: “Canada”.
It can either find everything that’s in here or report if something’s not in here, everything but Canada. Canada just gives it fits. That’s damned funny to me, and this time it is the Canadian angle.
I need to go to bed.
Back home in LA, you can’t go into a public restroom without seeing English/Spanish bilingual signs telling you to “Lavese las manos.” (Wash your hands.) Well, they’ve got the bilingual signs out here in New Hampshire, too — English/French bilingual. Because of the close proximity of Montreal and Quebec, I guess, where they speak a bit of French.
Those French/English signs are damned funny to me. I promise it’s not the Canadian angle, honest. There’s nothing funny aboot Canada.
I’m bored. Someone call me: (603) 224-5322 x 437.
I spent most of the day camped out behind a “Do Not Disturb” sign, then I went out around 3 pm to see a movie. I ran into the maid in the hallway, and it was pretty clear she was just finishing her last room and wasn’t thrilled to see me coming out of a room she thought she’d be able to skip. I told her not to bother with it, which cleared the scowl off her face, and she asked if I needed any towels or anything.
Backstory: Zoe’s school has an annual charity drive where they give small toiletries to a local shelter. Hotels stock the bathrooms with bars of soap, shampoo, conditioner and lotion, so I always take that stuff home to give to Zoe’s school.
So the maid asks me if I need anything, and I told her “Yeah, just the shampoo stuff.” She gave me a really strange look and said “Okay…” in a Dude, you’re weird! kind of voice.
It wasn’t until later that I realized why: I shave my head. Why would I need shampoo?
