Last night I heard the thunder of tiny french manicured feet as herds of spandexed cheerleaders ran up and down the halls. I can only assume that their mothers were off somewhere drinking ( I know I would be) or running with them, back and forth from the pool to their room. There are only two elevators in this hotel, and every time i get in one it stops on every floor to let in more little cheerleaders. No matter how full the car is, more of them unapologetically squeeze their tiny bodies in.
I've taken to releasing slow, silent streams of gas in the elevator car. I've never been one of those people who could fart or burp on command, although I've always admired those who could. Now it seems, much like the mother who can lift a four ton pickup truck off of her baby with one hand, my body has sensed an urgent need and is stepping up to the task.
" ughhh? Oh my God?!" I literally have to think about starving babies in Africa to keep myself from laughing.
They are always piled up around the computers,playing games, sneering at the people who want to check their email. I can't tell them apart, it could be the same 5 girls wreaking havoc all over the hotel. Except that it's not because in the morning hundreds of them gather in the lobby with their mothers.
" Are you guys going to a competition?" I asked brightly. The mother was standing two feet from me, and she looked me straight in the eye. Then she turned to her kid and said "Come on Ashley, it's time to go." So that's where they get it from. I see. I felt like saying, hey, aren't mothers supposed to be polite, at least to each other? We're part of the same club! But I didn't. I just continued to wait as Ashely logged off the Penguin Club and another identical teenager hopped on.
" When will they be gone?" I asked the front desk.
" A few days." she said sadly.
" I'm going to rub my dick all over the drapes." whispered Jeff.
" That won't solve our problem."
So I am hiding during the day at a little dive bar down the street.The bartender is nice, he calls me Texas, and no one under 21 is allowed inside. There is a Jimmy Buffet guy who wears a Hawaiian shirt, a vampire Lestat guy, complete with long straight hair and a flowing white shirt, who has been educating me on the history of medical marijuana reform, and lots of tattoed biker people who are generally weirder looking but nicer that the folks at the hotel.
I don’t need your sarcasm, cats.
3 hours ago