Since I feel obligated to provide you with mental stimulation on a semi-regular basis here is a tidbit to tide you over until someone out there on the world wide web responds to a series of 5×5 questions I’ve posed to them.
Come on, Jenn Valentyne, Hélène Joy, Mercedes Carrera, Donald Trump (among others) get on that!
All right, so Trump is a long shot… but he’ll have more time once he goes down in flames, right?
In the meantime, check out the little item below:
We get all sorts of guest packages in the Bell Room, the contents of which often remain a mystery. Occasionally we get to crack them open in order to deliver the contents to ungrateful corporate guests who reward us with a minuscule delivery fee and more snark than you can shake a corporate handbook at. There are even rare occasions where a package goes unclaimed for months and we get to divvy up the contents.
Of course, there’s never anything cool inside, like a still-beating human heart or a sonic death ray, but you can’t have everything, right?
In this particular case it was the package itself rather than the contents that provided the boys in the Bell Room with hours of enjoyment. They sliced a piece of that cardboard box apart and slapped it up on the wall amidst the dozens of Blue Jays clippings they’ve used to wallpaper our little filthy corner of the hotel. Now I get to hear, “You’re one fragile, Hook, Hook!” a dozen times a day.
Yes, working for a living is the most fun you can have without the introduction of pornography, alcohol, hallucinogenic drugs or Cheez Wiz, it’s true.
See you in the lobby, kids…