Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
It did, so I pretended I was taking another picture of Melissa, so the hooker leaned away to try to get out of the shot but I was way too sneaky! But so was she, because she wouldn't move her damn hand off the bar, so you couldn't get a clear view of her tits. I mean, they weren't saggy in the traditional sense. They just hung really low, like down by her waist, but her nipples didn't point down or anything. And because she wasn't wearing a bra you could see areola and everything. I wanted to take another picture but Melissa was doing one of those things when you mutter through your smile, "Hurry the fuck up, she's gonna know you're taking her picture - hurry up!" I'm told areola's a regular so next time she's here I'll try to get a good shot. I swear, her boobs are fucking huge, like bowling balls - at least 15 lbs.
Friday, March 13, 2009
I was running late to work, which is nothing new, and there was another girl who was also rushing from the employee parking lot to the elevator at the same time. I pushed the button and we both waited impatiently as the elevator finally lit on our floor and the doors opened. There was another employee already inside, and as we stepped in, he said, very dramatically, "Welcome to the morgue."
Neither I nor the girl acknowledged him, although I did a quick glance his way before I turned around to face the doors, my back towards him, and she did the same. And I just instinctively did an eyeroll and mock dry heave to myself. I didn't even know the guy. And from the way the other girl reacted, neither did she. I don't know if he was a casino porter or what, but it was just completely stupid. I mean, did he think we would both break out in giggles?
Or was that a commentary on how slow our casino business was and an invitation for the three of us to start bashing our place of employment? I really hate the whole negativity of spoiled, ungrateful people who don't know how lucky they are just to be alive in a free country with access to clean water and be able to shit in a flushing toilet. If you hate your job so much, fucking quit and let someone else take your place. I don't love my job because I don't love the fact I have to work for a living, period. But I love the fact that I have a job, such a great job, especially in such hard times.
The ride to the employee level wasn't that long, and usually the music that's heard in the casino is piped in to the elevator too, but this time it was just silent. I really wanted to start laughing because I knew the guy was standing back there, probably still thinking he's some ladies' man who just zinged us with his comic wit when we're both thinking, what a complete fucktard. Maybe she wasn't going into the whole deep job-appreciation thing that I was, but she still thought it.
When the door opened and we got out, I ran out first because, well, I was really running late and I wanted to get the hell away from the guy. But because I'm short and have extremely short legs, and maybe because he was stalking me or because of serendipity or some other karmic bullshit, he seemed to be right at my heels when I reached the employee entrance. So, because I'm not a complete asshole, when I opened the door, I held it open behind me for him. And you know what he said?
He uttered, "Ooh...so lovely...." under his breath. The thing that guys in trench coats say in that creepy way as they're jerking off to kiddie porn. I mean, geez, dude. I just held the door for you, not invite you into my love shack.
I almost felt like he gave me an STD.
And yesterday was such a great day.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
What a great day.
It was a great day because I just met Steve Dublanica from waiterrant.net. Not because he's a New York Times bestselling author, or because he's been on Oprah, or even because he interviewed me for his next book "At Your Service." It was a great day because he inspired me to start writing on my web site again.
I love writing, I really do. I find beauty in words, and I love relating my experiences, and turning the most mundane tasks, like delivering a drink, into something amusing or interesting or frustrating or even controversial. But sometimes I just get so damn lazy, and before I know it days turn into weeks, weeks into years, and years into who the hell was cocktaildoll - oh yeah, didn't she used to be waitress in Vegas into bondage or something?
A few minutes after meeting Steve I felt it was time to put my foot in my mouth so I said, "So, you decided to fly all the way from Jersey to Vegas to meet your female counterpart in person, huh?"
He took a sip of his vodka martini (dirty - oh, yes, he likes it dirty), then said, "Well, not exactly."
I said, "What do you mean? You posted on my message board specifically to meet me."
I have to say, he restrained himself really well because I would have reached out and patted me on the head and said, "There, there, you over-egotistical buffoon...it's not all about you."
Instead, he said, "I had already planned out my Vegas trip and announced on my blog that I was looking to interview people for my next book. So I when I got into town yesterday I was standing around at Paris when this girl walked up to me and said, 'Hey, you're Steve Dublanica!' We started talking and she said I should get in touch with you, and I said I'd never heard of you, so she gave me your web site, so I went back to my hotel room and tried to e-mail you, but your e-mail doesn't work, so I was really frustrated, then I found your message board, and posted on there, and here we are."
All I could do was stare at him blankly.
"So you'd never heard of me? Seriously?"
He said, "No. I sort of skimmed through your site. You should really update it."
OK, maybe I'm exaggerating. But just a smidgeon.
An hour interview turned into a five-hour chat about life, relationships, goals, and how his mom recorded American Idol over his interview with Oprah. That sucks.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
It's really not a new e-mail. Some skank has already taken "cocktaildoll" as a username. Actually, it's probably me from years ago and I forgot the password so I couldn't log into it. Or maybe it isn't me.
Anyway, do NOT use email@example.com (unless you're a spammer, in which case send all your e-mail there) because it's been screwed up for awhile and I can't figure out how to fix it.