27 May, 2011

It's Friday: Let's Piss Off A Princess!

Remember this post? Well, Princess there left a review. Let's read it together, shall we?
I asked them to clean the bathroom, they did a shoddy job. I asked them to vacuum room [sic] where there were ants, they did nothing about it. The kitchen was filthy. It's next door to a halfway home and nearby to soup kitchens. I felt very unsafe the whole time I was there. They gave me a private room inside the guys' dorm and I (a girl) felt really uncomfortable so had to move and pay more for new room. [sic]
OK, so there it is. Now, let's slip into something more comfortable.
I asked them to clean the bathroom, they did a shoddy job. Yeah, I only, you know, went so far as to even scrub out the fucking tub for you, your highness. Stop and think for a minute: It's a communal bathroom. Other people can fuck it up pretty quickly. I've seen my kitchen go from sparkling to sticky in ten minutes. I asked them to vacuum room [sic] where there were ants, they did nothing about it. Yes, I did. I went to the cleaning lady and asked her to vacuum and then - check the fuck out of this shit out - she did. The kitchen was filthy. My left foot, bitch. I clean that fucking thing daily. Not just swiping crumbs off the counter, but 409ing the shit out of it, so don't tell me jack shit about anything being filthy. It's next door to a halfway home and nearby to soup kitchens. We're going to have fun with that in a minute. I felt very unsafe the whole time I was there. Yeah, which is why I watched your ass go out jogging. They gave me a private room inside the guys' dorm and I (a girl) felt really uncomfortable Because all of a sudden, your door doesn't lock? so had to move and pay more for new room. [sic] You paid more because you moved from a single private to a double private. Dunce.
Remember that part about the halfway home and the soup kitchens? Yeah. I wanted to reply. But I had to reply in a manner that would knock princess off her high horse. Maybe instill feelings of shame. Maybe, just maybe, make her look like the entitled crybaby she is to others who would read her review, including the site admin. The following reply was the best that I could muster.
While we are sorry there was a lapse in housekeeping, It's our word against hers and she's shifted the burden of proof on to us. I can't very well initiate a game of "Did Not! Did So!" here when I can't prove we cleaned. we do feel we must correct two misconceptions about the neighborhood. Firstly, the dual-brownstone complex next door to us is not a halfway house (the definition of which is social rehabilitation for former convicts) Yes, I looked that up to be sure. but an assisted living hospice (where terminally ill patients can get the care they need before they die). It is. Secondly, there is indeed a soup kitchen located one block north and three blocks east from us operated out of the basement of St. Stephen's Church; this, however, is the only soup kitchen near us. For some reason - while I find it reprehensible to look down upon all soup kitchens when you consider the charity of their staff, the necessity of their service, and the needs of their patrons - it seems like a person would be an even bigger sack of flagellated yak asses to have to talk shit about a soup kitchen operating out of the basement of a church.
Of course, I knew she was going to give us a shitty review no matter how hard we tried to please her and squeeze at least a halfway decent one out. But instead of resigning myself to another shitty review, I decided to do just what I did there: If someone's going to talk shit about us online, I'm at least going to make it so the readers consider their source.
Lastly, because I didn't feel like cooking last night and I've been bumped up to seasonal pay, I decided to grab a burger down at the Black Forest. And with that, let's segue to our bonus feature:
It's Friday: Let's Embarrass the Guy Who Sat Next to Me at the Bar Last Night!
So this bloke comes in with this bird, they're both about in their mid twenties, he's got four inches on me and she stands about five-four, five-five, maybe, as I go out for a smoke. (Yes, I know, OK!? Look, I've already made it to the point where I don't smoke unless I'm drinking, cut me some fucking slack.) I puff away and pitch the butt into 26th and head back inside. I grab my seat at the bar and homeboy is just way to close to me.
Laurel brings my burger out and hooks me up with my condiments, I thank her and wonder how in fuck I'm going to get this burger up to my mouth with the guy over here on my right, all halfway to nudging against me.
So I move my stool a little over to the left but the guy is still close enough that I can hear everything he's saying to the bird, right? Eventually I put down the paper I was reading and just listen to this jackass as it's way more entertaining. You see, from the sound of things, this was more than likely a second date. They had apparently already had one date but definitely not two; I could tell from his approach that there had been only one other time if there had been a time at all. If there had been a second date, he would have been relaxed, more comfortable, exactly the opposite of the ball of nervous, horny energy sitting beside me trying anxiously to seal the deal. If there had been a second date, he would've not fucked up remembering certain details from previous conversations as he was doing then like pitching high and outside on the name of her favorite movie and forgetting what her dad did for a living.
I mean the guy was fucking bombing.
But the - I want to say 'coup de grĂ¢ce' even though I know that'd be incorrect... How about 'kamikaze dive'? Can I use that? Yeah? Good. OK, so, the all or nothing moment, the last ditch effort, the one thing he put all his marbles in, the ace up his sleeve, his kamikaze dive was when he broke out this bit:
"I met Joan Baez's agent. Yeah, I'm kind of Facebook friends with her."
I almost laughed out a mouthful of hamburger across the bar. Seriously.
And more bonus material: Then, on my way home, I was walking up Nicollet and there were three gay guys, two of whom were in a couple, and their beard - well, actually, these guys were pretty out so that would make her a fag hag, right? Anyway, one of the guys in the couple points at a statue in a shop window and says, "Oh, I want one for the living room!"
This is when the fag hag blurts out loudly, "Put a bird on it!"
I laughed a little.

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