My buddy Amber is SO done listening to me bitch, so you all are up next.
Last night I was at work until 9:30pm. Then I lost my debit card and searched for that and freaked out for a couple hours. Basically I had three hours of sleep.
I leave my apartment for the airport at 5am. Yes, that’s A.M. My flight’s delayed an hour, while out the window I see an airline monkey up on a ladder messing around under the wing with–I s**t you not–a power drill. Apparently all was not well. So they end up cancelling that flight and sticking me on another one. Which is then delayed an hour. I get to LA seven mind-numbing hours after I left home. AND, I was going to go see my mom (you didn’t think I had one, did you?) before checking into the hotel but my schedule was all shot to hell!
So. I check into this artsy-fartsy semi-swank boutique hotel, which shall remain unnamed. The staff are dressed in these weird white t-shirt and khaki getups that for some reason make me think of Logan’s Run. Maybe because I want to run. Away.
My room, you ask? Because my friend O will be shacking up with me later, I have a double room. Twin beds, people. Skinny, hard as rock twin beds. I freaking HATE this hotel.
I have already divested the minibar of its two Diet Cokes. I am now eyeing the Budweiser. Bud; that’s how bad my day has been. I swear I would rather be in a Super 8 right now with a normal sized bed. At least they wouldn’t have this whole hipper-than-thou vibe that pisses me right off.
And you know what else about this fancy hotel? It’s not even that clean. There’s schmutz on the carpet and some foreign matter on the TV (which I ain’t touching). And TWO DC’s in the fridge? WTF? I need my elixer of life!
I promise to adjust my attitude before I go to LATV to hang with Cafe Tacvba this evening.
More later. End rant.