I’m Invoking Kelly Oxford in This Title Because She’s Huge On Twitter And This Will Draw Attention There.

 (I’m a sneaky devil, aren’t I?)

A BRIEF ANNOUNCEMENT:  I’ve been nominated in the Badass Blogger Awards . The Indie Chicks have a kick-ass site worth checking out. Vote for me and I’ll be your best friend. That’s a $50 value, folks.

And now, on with the show…

Riddle me this, kids: When is a blogger not a blogger?

When his thoughts are scattered like Justin Bieber’s fragile psyche, that’s when. At the moment I’m simply a guy staring at a blank notebook (My posts begin as scribbles poured from my brain into a weathered notebook while hunched over a desk in the Bell Room, which fortunately for a lifelong comic book fan/nerd like me, resembles the Batcave), praying to the blogging gods (i.e. Le Clown) for inspiration.

The Hook’s world remains immutable, something I’m actually grateful for. After all, there’s something to be said for continuity. Robert Hookey’s world, however, is another matter entirely. I’m holding my breath at the moment and while I wouldn’t normally divulge such info in this forum, my personal trials have begun to impact my professional performance, the blogging aspect of it, at least. 

My days have been filled with the usual hi-jinks and shenanigans, but I find myself in the unusual position of bystander rather than chronicler or participant. Normally, a person would turn to a trained medical professional for assistance in such matters. However, since I am poor, don’t smoke, drink alcohol, or take recreational drugs – or for that matter, have any time to watch a film or video of the adult variety - I shall turn to my old standby, writing, and charge full steam ahead, guns ablazin’, as they say.

It should be noted that The Hook has only held an actual firearm once in his life and he did not care for it, but unfortunately the Jehovah’s Witnesses refused to leave my porch before attempting to save my soul…

Last Monday was a tribute to the Gods of Chaos, as the tourist season unofficially began in Niagara Falls. Unfortunately for many of my compatriots in the hospitality industry the term “tourist season” does not allow one to brandish a weapon and track down actual tourists, whose heads you may then mount and display on your wall, as The Bloggess does with animals. Nevertheless, I still took the time to terrorize my guests whenever the opportunity presented itself.

And it certainly did when the phone rang for the hundredth time during the height of the check-out period, affectionately referred to as “Unhappy Hour” by many of us.

GUEST WHO HAS NO IDEA WHAT HE’S ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE: Yes, I’ve been waiting thirty minutes for a bellman. I know you’re busy, but the wait is killing me! What can I do?

THE HOOK: (In a calm, clear voice reminiscent of a wise, older uncle or a 911 operator.) A bellman is on his way to you now, sir. As for your current dilemma, the solution is simple: go over to the alarm clock, which should be located next to the lamp on the nightstand between the beds.

GWHNIWHATE: (Hanging on my every word.) Okay, I’m here! What do I do now?

THE HOOK: What does the clock read, sir?

GWHNIWHATE: It says 10:45.

THE HOOK: All right, everything hinges on this next part, so listen closely. What I need you to do is set the clock back one half-hour…

It took him a moment, but to his credit, he followed my instructions to the letter,  proclaimed “I’ve got it!”, and then read out the revised time display.

Then the phone was silent for a moment before he quietly said “Hey, wait a minuuute…”

As I expected/hoped, he began to laugh raucously before shouting to his wife, “Hey honey! The bellman made an ass out of me! Can you believe it?” She did, by the way.

THE HOOK: To be fair, sir, it was a team effort.

AND NOW, TIME FOR A LIST!

Top Ten Things I’ve Learned As A Bellman.

1)  You can wear business attire over a schoolgirl outfit without anyone noticing.  And no, I wasn’t the one who actually pulled this off. I had you going for a moment though, didn’t I?

2)  Financial institutions do not accept “Thank you” as payment on a mortgage.  Of course, that doesn’t stop people from tipping me with such sentiments…

3)  It always pays to take the high road. For those of you who are really confused right now, let me explain: I may speak out when faced with challenging guests, but I never deviate from the basic rules I use to live my life. I bend but I never break.

4)  Never dip your pen in company ink.  I’ve seen grown men reduced to blithering infants after engaging in such behavior. Trust me, it isn’t pretty. Keep work and play separated and you’ll live a longer, more prosperous life. The thrill of an office romance is overrated anyway. 

5)  What happens in Vegas never actually stays in Vegas.  People always assume they can get away with murder while vacationing – I blame The Hangover movies – but nothing could be further from the truth. Hotel employees do indeed respect their guests’ privacy, but in this day and age of camera phones, Facebook, etc., you have more to worry about from the person staring at you in the lobby whom you don’t recognize (but who recognizes you) than you do from The Hook.

6)  Never, ever, let a stranger handcuff you to a hotel bed, draw a fake mustache on you, cover you in whip cream and roses, and take your picture – which will then be e-mailed to all your contacts, including your mom.  “But why, Hook?” you ask? Two reasons: A) I don’t want to have to walk in on you – even if you are female and hot, and B) it’s just plain stupid. And believe it or not, this has happened more than once, including the whip cream and mustache aspect. 

7)  Hookers are people too.  Yes, they have sex with people for money, but they’re all lonely little girls at heart. They just wear too much make-up, ridiculously tight clothing and curse a lot.

8)  Expect the unexpected and nothing will surprise you – ever.  Believe me when I tell you, I’ve seen everything. And yet, I know I haven’t seen anything yet…

9)  Simply because a person appears to be human doesn’t mean they have a soul.  I’ve met people on both sides of the hospitality fence that are capable of great acts of inhumanity.  I’ve encountered, gamblers, cheats, thieves, wife-beaters, killers, liars, dealers in all forms of contraband and virtually every form of sinner on the planet.  But I still believe in the concept of a healthy, productive, civilized society – on paper, at least.

10)  People are capable of ANYTHING.  Period.

That’s all for now, folks. Be good to yourselves, all right? After all, you deserve it, don’t you?

BECAUSE SHE’S TOO GOOD NOT TO PLUG…

Yes, the wife is going kick my ass for that word play, but here’s the latest offering from Becca Cord: 

Flyte

So I quit my day job. Today is my last day of work, and I am flying out Friday to vacation in Michigan through Memorial Day. I am here today to simply assure you, I will be coming back HAM on the blog and BeccaTube upon my return. It’s going to get hard core in here. And I’m not even talking porn.

But in the mean time, I have two favors to ask:

1. Y’all trooped up and got me nominated for the Badass Blogger Awards in TWO categories (Funniest Blogger and Funniest Vlogger). Su-weet. Now the voting phase is in full effect. So this is my “Becca for President” plea. If you enjoy my humor, I would appreciate your vote. BUT, I also have to say, there are a couple of other bloggers I respect who are also nominated for the Funniest Blogger category, so I want to support votes for them too. Also, if you don’t vote for TJ in her categories then I…. I…. I will do something really bad. I seriously admire her drive and passion for the art she creates.

Seriously though, regardless of who you are voting for, the important thing is that you do it! Click here meow. Voting ends May 31st.

READ MORE HERE:

It’s Nerdrific!

It's Book Launch Week!

Reblogged from Leanne Shirtliffe ~ Ironic Mom:

• 

Don't Lick the Minivan officially launches on Wednesday, May 22 so it's a busy week.

MEDIA: Tuesday, I'm on Calgary Breakfast Television at 7:12 AM and then on Alberta Noon's call-in show on CBC Radio from 12:30-1:00 PM (unless the rumour about Edmonton's mayor retiring pushes me out of that latter slot). Both segments are live which means you have the opportunity to watch/listen to me mess up in real time!

Read more… 143 more words

Leanne Shirtliffe is everything I'm not: affiliated with an actual publisher, a regular on a version of Breakfast Television, a capable parent who knows how to spin her parenting mistakes into funny yarns and a good soul who has it all together. This is my contribution to her media blitz. Enjoy and I'll see you soon...

A Guest Post (Kinda, Sorta) From Miss Four Eyes.

A BRIEF JOKE FROM THE HOOK

VACATIONING ZOMBIE: (Chuckling like a fat guy, which he was.) I’d love to tip you, Boss, but I don’t believe in tipping!

THE HOOK: Well, some people don’t believe in the female orgasm, sir, but that doesn’t nullify its existence.

THE LONG-SUFFERING WIFE: He’ll never believe in that, trust me!

And so, as the Vacationing Zombie reeled from the double shot of burn, his wife tipped me a twenty.

I love a happy ending.

Moving on…

My life is a swirling vortex of chaos right now.

Normally I would share the details of my personal struggles with the many challenges Fate has seen fit to place in my path, but the truth is, I’m simply not up to the task. I’m not ill or suffering marital strife, I simply need a few days to be Robert Hookey rather than The Hook.

And so Miss Four Eyes has offered to lend a hand, or rather a post. Of course, she has no idea she did this, but her subconscious contacted me telepathically and said, “Post this!”

It also said, “I’m naked, bitch!”.

But that’s another story altogether…

Enjoy this guest post by my blogging partner and I’ll see you in a few days, gang.

Baby Making Machine

I didn’t realize I was a woman until college.

What I mean is, I knew, of course. But it didn’t hit me that there was a major difference between being a man or a woman until someone pointed it out in college. I’d heard mothers say that they wished their daughters had more female role models to look up to. I always wondered as a kid what that meant. I didn’t feel like I had been deprived of anything. I looked up to people like Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, they were my heroes. It didn’t matter that none of these people were women. I didn’t see a difference. They were people and I was just another person. We were the same with one difference, they were successful and I aspired to be.

What’s the difference?

READ MORE HERE!

This a brief, but powerful post that demonstrates how deep a prank can cut when implemented by a douchebag. Miss Four Eyes is one of my faves and she exposes her vulnerabilities with this one, but in this case, the results are gold.

See you soon, folks. Be well.

What My Eyes Have Seen: Sunday Morning Edition.

A weary midnight bellman, his mind and body aching from the burn of the midnight oil.

Unbalanced, drunken females, giddy with exhaustion, their words slurred and their minds a cyclone of foggy memories best left unexplored.

An overzealous traveler pacing the lobby, eager for the swimming pool to open.

Eager bus drivers and tour guides pacing in the early morning sun, desperate for the bellman to deliver their charges’ belongings to the front of the building.

Ripped flyers and newspapers, cigarette butts and crushed cans of Red Bull and blue Solo cups (Yes, blue!), strewn about the road and flower beds.

A blood-stained sidewalk.

All before seven a.m.

Such is the lot of yours truly, the first bellman on shift Sunday morning.

Reblogged from drinkswellwithothers:

 

The Wisdom of Hook, Observations, ‘Cons and Plugs.

The majority of my guest interactions are limited to the standard formula: I load-up/drop-off the luggage, hopefully receive a tip, answer a question or two and move on. However, on those rare occasions that I share a small piece of my inner being with a guest, amazing things can happen.

Well, at the very least, mildly interesting things…

THE QUESTION: (Posed by a freshly-minted bride after learning I have been with Mrs. Hook for almost twenty years.) “Wow, you’ve been married for 18 years! What’s the secret?”

What, indeed.

THE ANSWER: (My answer, at least.)

“To begin with, be prepared to embrace the notion of Acceptance.”

“As in accepting the other person for who they really are, as opposed to who you want them to be?”

“No, as in accepting the fact that no marriage is perfect. Far from it, in fact. Prepare to feel completely screwed at times, because unless you married a machine you’re going to have to deal with human failings on a regular basis. The trick is to find the right person to screw up with.”

“Really?”

“Really. And be prepared to fight. A lot.”

“Really?” she repeated, giggling all the while.

“Couples that don’t fight are more likely to divorce or step out of the marriage. If you love someone, I mean really love someone, you need to have passion. And passion isn’t limited to the good times.”

“I guess that’s where make-up sex comes in.” she whispered, fearful someone would hear her in a deserted ballroom.

We were packing up the remnants of her wedding extravaganza and her curious mind couldn’t resist picking my brain. And so I shared a few bits of my wisdom concerning the fields of marriage and interpersonal relationships between those who have a penis and those who do not.

1)  When cohabitating with a person of opposite gender, it is best to break wind deliberately. Break the ice, as it were. It’s going to happen anyway, so you might as well take control of your destiny – and bodily functions – and get it over with. 

2)  Guys, always put a gift away in a secure place, for a rainy day when you need a “get out of jail free” card. (Trust me, you never know when its going to pour.)

3)  WOMEN ARE ALWAYS RIGHT.  (If I have to explain this, you’re already dead.)

4)  If you can’t master that which you don’t know, find a friend who can. In my case, this applies to virtually all home repairs. But remember, I mean well.

5)  The past will always return to bite you in the ass, so always try to tell your partner as much of the truth as you can. Personally, this rule has saved my bacon more times than I can count. Lies will sink you, my friends.

DISCLAIMER:  I have been informed by my wife that I do not actually posses “wisdom” per se, I have opinions, some of which are “the ramblings of a dumbass.” In my defense, I am a dumbass who means well.

Moving on…

I rarely write about the inner workings of the micro-reality that is my place of business – which explains why I’m still working here while writing a blog about the hotel biz – but sometimes things happen that are worth bending the rules for.

For example:

1)  We’ve replaced the giant fish tanks in our rooftop restaurant with two 51-inch televisions – that play a loop of fish swimming in a tank.

2)  My job depends on my ability to expedite my duties quickly and efficiently; that becomes next to impossible when my resources are depleted by other departments. While questioning a colleague about missing carts his fellow renovators have appropriated, I found myself fighting the urge to bang my head slowly and quietly against the basement walls.

“No sir, I don’t have ‘em!” was my colleague’s “honest” response. No sooner had the words left his forked tongue when my eyes caught a glimpse of three familiar sets of wheels rolling by at the end of the hall…

Thirty minutes later, three carts had been recovered. Thirty-one minutes later I remembered the limitations of my pay grade. I’m not the guy who gets paid to worry about such matters and so I’ve resolved to let others sweat the small stuff. 

3)  A group of squealing teenage girls spent a full twenty minutes drooling at the site of a construction worker slicing up metal braces with a motorized saw.  (And you’re correct if you’re assuming my knowledge of power tools is quite limited.)  The young ladies were hypnotized and released a series of high-pitched screams as sparks flew across his manly frame. (Honestly, their combined pitch had every canine within thirty miles howling like a group married men at a bachelor party. In Vegas.)

“That’s so cool!” they giggled in unison. “You really know what you’re doing!”

“Well, I know how to handle my tool!” was his porn star-worthy retort.

He then lifted a Tim Hortons coffee to his lips, walked away…. and tripped over a pile of rubble as he looked back at his pack of followers.

I love my job and the point of view it affords me.

Be well, my friends.

A COUPLE OF THINGS BEFORE WE PART WAYS…

June is in sight, my friends, so here is another plug for what is sure to the kick-ass event of The Hook’s summer…

A WORTHY SHARE: A RED CIRCLE ON THE CALENDAR

Little Miss Wordy  has written a book. What else do you need to know? Okay, a little , maybe. Take it away, Miss Wordy…

This week I finally received complimentary copies of my book, Red Circle Days. I can’t begin to express what it feels like to hold my published book in my hands, see my words in print, my face on the back cover!

We all have dreams, and as we strive to make those dreams a reality the road is ever-changing. The smoothly paved stretches can be encouraging yet also deceiving at times, causing us to relax a bit and slow our pace, never anticipating the mountainous climb that awaits just around the bend. As we turn the corner and come face to face with yet another obstacle on our path, another winding twist, we take pause and wonder if we have what it takes to continue the journey.

In light of this reality, we question our very dream, the dream that at one time energized, lit a fire in us that we vowed nothing and no one would ever extinguish. It is when the climb is the steepest, that we allow the thought of quitting to enter our mind, overshadowing all the visions we spent so much time playing and replaying in our mind, like the reel on an old plastic viewfinder…each click an indicator that we’ve left one image behind for our eyes to focus on another, yet each image is part of the bigger picture we must always keep in our line of vision.

In that moment, the moment of doubt, the moment of questioning, the moment of fear, we may slow down or even come to a complete stop – weighed down with insecurity. The important thing is to take a deep breath, revisit that technicolored dream and allow ourselves to believe once more.

Those of you who have expressed an interest in a signed copy of the book, please contact me directly to place your order. Those who have already purchased a copy, I thank you for making me one of the Publisher’s Top Sellers right now, but even more for your support!

If you haven’t gotten a copy, here are a few options: Amazon, Kindle, Nook, the Apple iBookstore, and Sarah Book Publishing.

BUT WAIT!  THERE’S MORE!

May 9 has come and gone, so put aside the gas bill and your kid’s college fund contribution and pick up Leanne Shirtliffe’s first literary offering…

BUY THIS BOOK!

A Reblog You Won’t Soon Forget: The First Time

I’m going to skip the clever intro and cut to the heart of the matter: You need to read this:

The First Time.

When I got home from work, my puppy Porter was in the window wagging his big fluffy tail. Dane was sitting on the couch, watching a documentary on the History Channel. I changed my clothes and we went to Zen West Roadside Cantina to celebrate Cinco de Mayo with sangria.

He had fish tacos for dinner and I had a quesadilla. We talked about little things of no importance and recalled the loud, old Jewish couple sitting in front of us at the Mary Poppins production we saw the night before. He was good at imitating them and it made me laugh so hard. I remember where we were sitting in the restaurant and the little kid running in circles who repeatedly played the same, really annoying song on the jukebox while his mom and dad completely ignored him. I don’t recollect what song it was now, but it was spinning in my tipsy head as I tried to fall asleep later that night.

Back at my house, we drank wine and watched a show that was saved on the DVR. Porter chased his tail and we laughed. Dane suggested that he was just like that kid at the restaurant, really, except fluffy. He adored Porter. He was mad when I first rescued him because he didn’t want a dog, but as you can see, he fell in love with him pretty quickly:

KEEP READING HERE:

Imagine what our lives would be like if we knew exactly how many days we had to live: If we could see the endgame at all times would that affect our behavior? Would we take the time to truly cherish those closest to us, or would we just drift through life as most of us currently do?

La La has given me reason to pause and reflect.

I suggest you do the same.

Be well, my friends.