You know things are quiet in the hotel biz when…

I start writing about stuff like this.

Yes, my friends, the lobby is as frigid and empty as Kris Jenner’s vayjayjay – again. (That probably should have been the title, right? Oh well, blog and learn.)

Moving on…

On Wednesday, the Canadian Radio-television & Telecommunications Commission issued a broadcast notice (which, to be clear, means absolutely nothing), alleging that several X-rated television channels — included the gay-oriented Maleflixxx — were failing to satisfy their regulator-mandated 35% threshold for Canadian editorial content.

Seriously. This is what Canadians are concerned about. Certain Canadians, at least. In defense of Maleflixx, their station doesn’t include any beaver content whatsoever by design…

And yes, Canadians watch television programs that don’t feature men skating back and forth across frozen water while chasing a piece of hard rubber. Certain Canadians, at least.

We also watch Dragons’ Den. That’s basically Shark Tank – but with more unpolished down-to-earth pitchers.

Before you get the wrong idea, it should be noted the day hasn’t been completely without incident.

1)  The oddest couple I’ve seen this week dropped by the Bell Desk to store their plastic bags luggage: He was an African American who was seventy-five-years-rotten and she was a petite Latin mini-bombshell – who was three decades his junior. At least.

2)  I served a family of four which included a toddler whose DNA had been mixed with that of a Tasmanian devil, apparently. The poor mother in question ran around the lobby like a bewildered Justin Bieber with a coherent thought, but to no avail. Her offspring slammed into our revolving glass door three times and she still couldn’t catch her. In desperation, she turned to yours truly to bring the rugrat-on-speed back into her arms. 

THE HOOK:  Do you have a set of keys, miss?

BEWILDERED MOM:  Uh, sure. Why?

THE HOOK:  This is just crazy enough to work. Lift the keys high into the air and shake ’em like you just don’t care.

You see where I’m going with this, right?

Sure enough, the Mini-Flash (yes, there have been female speedsters) headed for the keys like Rob Ford to a piece of crack.

3)  Old Man Winter’s unrelenting wrath ravaged me as I waited for the Family From Hell to unload their rust bucket and locate their room keys. Once we discovered just which room they were destined to blow their security deposit on, we parted ways before meeting up at the room.

That was the plan, at least.

Twenty minutes later, the Family From Hell was still a no-show. Of course, I was wishing them away to  a corn field after they finally arrived and Mom spent her time attempting to decide which of the two rooms she reserved was crappy enough to pawn off on her mother-in-law. And did I mention she spoke like this?

“Ican’tbelievetheygavemesuchcrappyrooms!Mymother-in-lawisgoingtobepissed!What’swrongwiththepeopleatthefrontdesk?”

But before I could answer…

“I’mgoingtogobackdownstairsanddemandnewrooms!You’regoingtohatemesoon!”

And did I mention the room right next door? Apparently the guests felt the room was too warm. So they used a pair of shoes to prop the door open. And then they had sex.

Fortunately, they wrapped things up before the Family From Hell arrived. Thank God for premature ejaculation.

(Another sentence I thought I’d never type.)

• In the end, the Family From Hell found a new pair of rooms that satisfied them. Finally.
• I’m not sure how the Mother-in-law From Hell felt about her accomodations, but who cares, right?
• The exhibitionists smoked a cigarette. Briefly.
• I was tipped. poorly.

And that’s about it, kiddies. I’ve been working on something else, but I think I’m going to include it in the never-to-be-finished soon-to-be-finished book rather than the blog.

See you in the lobby, folks…