Word Pictures From The Week


I sat down - I laughed - I cried - I sighed - I waded waist deep through blogging templates for an hour - after reading THIS.

Changes are coming - give me time.



The tiny man with the Texas Twang had just arrived at the hotel, and proceeded to the front desk to check in.  I knew he was an actor and I'd seen him SOMEWHERE before.. ah, yes!  Boston Legal.. he was GREAT!  A very funny guy.  When he completed his check-in, I headed him off at the pass and introduced myself.  "Hi there sir, welcome to the Palm Springs (hotel I work at), it's nice to see you!  I enjoy your work."  He grinned a tiny grin and seemed genuinely receptive of my enthusiasm.  "Thank you!" he said, and we chatted as I walked him to his room.

I never did say "it was nice meeting you Mr. so and so," because I didn't know his name.  I faked it pretty well though, and I'll bet most people don't know his name - just his face, because he's very recognizable, being so.. tiny.. and all.  I had to return to the front desk and ask Stephanie who the little guy was I'd just escorted.  "Clickity clack" on the computer, and then she said, "Mr. Leslie Jordan."



Thank you, Steph.. wow, he's awesome.



Earlier this week, young George Pozos put in a full day of work, shipping and receiving things in the shipping and receiving department of the hotel.  We'd crossed paths that day and I teased him a bit about his status as employee of the month for May, which only served to embarrass him further.  He was too modest to fully appreciate having that honor bestowed on him in recognition of his attention to duties.  I'd come in for the evening shift, and he was clocking out to head home.  "Have a nice day George," I said.  He didn't.

When he got there, someone shot him.

Seven times.

As I type, it's Sunday and his family and friends are holding a car wash to raise money for funeral services.  This is because 25 year old Hispanic men who help take care of their families don't generally carry life insurance.  I feel like I should be rinsing off a Ford Taurus right now, instead of sitting here.



On a lighter note, uh.. hmm.. there's always helium.



I finally got to try the little strawberries that wear chocolate tuxedos.  Room service serves them to guests who are celebrating a special occasion, like an anniversary, birthday or parole, and they get delivered to rooms on a silver platter aside a silver ice bucket with a bottle of champagne in it.  I guess they're just little chocolate covered strawberries, but honestly, the chocolate is made to look like a little tuxedo and bow-tie.. it's the cutest thing!

So I tried a few that hadn't been consumed, and before you think, "Ewww, you ate some that were on a tray that came back from a room after the guests didn't eat them!"  well, let me first assure you that wasn't the case, and secondly urge you to use better grammar.

These were some that never got served in the first place, for whatever reason - maybe a canceled order - so I ate a few, with COFFEE, not champagne, because I was on duty.

I felt like I was eating tasty little butlers.



Why do crazy people always have to make it seem like YOU are the crazy one?  The lady in the lobby a few nights ago wanted to see a particular guest but didn't know the room number.  I looked it up and called him.  "Oh NO," he says.. "she's a stalker!  Please get rid of her and whatever you do, make sure she doesn't find out what room I'm in!"  I returned to her with the unfortunate task of having to toss her out.  She screamed, she pleaded, she argued.  I yawned and repeatedly told her she had to go.  She didn't go.  I told her the police would be happy to make her go, if that's what she'd prefer.  She didn't prefer, so she went.

But she called me a crazy asshole on the way out.  I don't think I am.. really, I don't.



Today is Mother's Day.  I miss mine.  She went away one quick and horrible night long ago, and I haven't seen her since, so I ask God to just take care of her and tell her HI, so that I can see her again one day when I'm all done down here.  Her name was Mary Ann Kelly, and she was my mom.  I still love her and I'll always miss her.  Here she is..



..it's a very old pic.  She's been gone for quite a while, so why is it that I feel at times as though she's still around?

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.