Hmm.
HMM.
It seems that holy powers may have intervened in my daily blasphemy, the internet connection at the hotel cut out while I was typing the mormon joke of the day. A sign from above? I think so. But Jeebus or no Jeebus, I shan't be outsmarted when it comes to the deleriously nerdy, such as blogging. I have slyly moved faster than the creator this time and have moved to a different computer, so brace yourselves and double stitch your sides... it's time for...
THE DAILY CUP O' HOLY JOE!
Joseph Smith comes home early one day to find one of his wives with her bags packed and leaving the house. Joseph asks, "What's going on?"
She replies, "I'm leaving you, Joe."
"Why?", asks Joseph.
"Well, there's talk going around that you're a pedophile."
"Pedophile? Me? A pedophile?", Joseph exclaims, "That's a pretty big word for a 14 year old there, missy!"
AHAHAHA... that's almost worth the time in hell I just earned myself.
On a sidenote, I feel it is my duty to share with you that it was on the radio earlier today that a group of frenchmen had gone missing in the mountains today. My mother was morbidly thrilled it seems because we have french people coming for dinner tonight and this would make for ideal dinner conversation. It was just corrected that the missing people are in fact not a group of frenchmen but a group of teenagers. You could literally see the disappointment etched across my mother's face when she heard the bad news. Special. Just a little bit special.
Greetings and salutations y'all, how's the country living going? Excelleeeent.
I've discovered a way to pass the days now. Such a fine way in fact that I have trouble finding the time to do what little work I'm supposed to do. Ok, so that's a blatant exaggeration but nevertheless... trashy paperback thrillers. God, I love my trashy paperback thrillers. From 8 am to 5 pm I sit here virtually uninterrupted and ooh and ahh and bite my nails and wonder whodunnit. I was so engrossed yesterday that I actually stayed a little later than I had to at work to finish the book I'd started that morning. We didn't have a single guest here yesterday and no one called the whole day, until 10 minutes after I was supposed to get off. Then a family showed up and wanted me to ready a room for them. Just as well I was still here, because unbeknownst to me I've been running things solo for the past three days while the owners went on vacation. Suffice to say they were thrilled with the dedication and hard work of their loyal employee who stayed late to do work so that they wouldn't have to. I neglected to mention that in spite of having cleaned the whole place floor to seiling twice during that day, I still had only managed to do an hour of work. And when I say managed, I mean I really was trying to do some work but there was none to be done. So maybe the fact that I stayed a half hour later than I should've was no great sacrifice... especially since I did so for entirely selfish reasons.
Mercifully, I had my faithful trashy thriller with me. Nicci French, thou art a blessing.
Today was a different sorta day. Been raining like bloody murder outside all day so we have every tourist from Brooklyn to Pakistan in here now, and the ones that checked out this morning sat in the lounge and ate for 3 hours after check-out time. No one wants to be outside in this weather! I didn't say anything though, because in true Mia fashion, I plain just didn't curr.
I still have zero work left to do, so I am just sitting around reading in the trashy thriller of the day. I just have a bit more company...
Oh, I got paid today for the past week's worth of not working. I got a little over $500. Not bad, you could do a lot more for a lot less I suppose.
Time for today's holy joke, then I must return to my reading. I am beginning to feel uncomfortably in touch with reality.
Born under an unlucky star, that's me. On this bright and beautiful summer morning I stopped by a gas station on my way to work to pick up some breakfast. I get out of the car with it running and somehow, and don't ask because I have no idea how, the doors locked behind me. I come back out and the keys are locked inside the car.
Iceland sadly has a very low crime rate, so it's not like I could wait for the next black guy to come along who just HAPPENED to be carrying a Slim Jim. And the police won't help you either anymore, because a man has decided to make a "career" out of this. Bless him. Little angel of mercy riding around in his Toyota. While someone is accepting money for a service they provide, the police are not allowed to step in and do it for free. Which makes sense. Only this guy is an absolute miser of the worst kind and his damn help costs you 50 dollars. He takes his own sweet time in getting there, spends thirty seconds popping open the car door and this costs, and I repeat, 50 motherloving dollars. Grab your ankles people, this is gonna be a good one!
While waiting for Gabriel to arrive on the scene however, I was privy to witnessing a young man I am semi-familiar with show up at the gas station, come stomping out of his car wearing Mr. Cool Man sunglasses, fill up the car and come in to pay only to have his card rejected. He made a big scene and patronizingly started telling the lady cashier to loan him the money. He didn't even try to be nice to inspire some element of sympathy. He just wanted to intimidate her with his awesomeness into giving him all the gas. Alas, no such luck for our Billy Idol today. Then he goes "gimme back my card", and she refused and he stomped out of the station and tried to get the guy at the pumps to spot him for the cash. He didn't think so either. Anyway, to make a long story short-esque someone shows up with money to loan the douchehole so he... and I have to say I chuckled at this point...comes hauling ass in the car up to the door, screeching tires and all, throws the money in through the front door and screamed something like "Bite your pussy, you disgusting bitch" and raced off. Awww. Isn't that charming? I just wanted to share this little story with you people because I wanted it to touch your hearts and inspire you the way that it has me. I'm a changed person now. The next time I go to a gas station, that will be my method of payment. I was so impressed with his confidence and maturity, I'm absolutely determined to wear huge shiny sunglasses and throw money everywhere and tell the employees to go bite their genitalia. Then I too can be kewl like a muffugga, woot wooooot....
In all actuality, I'm trying to kill some time until I get off work. I swear it must be in my job description that I'm supposed to be roofing the building or painting the outside of the house and I just ahve no idea, because 9 hours a day here don't make a lick of sense. Not that I'm complaining but I get a little worried sometimes that I must be forgetting something.
Time of the mormon joke of the day.
A Mormon bishop and a protestant minister are talking theology one day. The minister turns to the bishop and says "I know why you Mormons finally gave up polygamy." Intrigued, the Mormon bishop replies "Oh, why is that?" "Because," replies the minister, "you finally understood Jesus' teaching that no man can serve two masters."
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Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to sit around and get paid to do nothing. I have done everything I can possibly think of doing here at work at least twice today, snuck home and took a two hour nap, took an hour for lunch, spent an hour reading Sophie's World and I still have another hour to kill. It has to be said, I love this job. Praise Jeebus for this blessing. Long live idle hands! Hip hip hooray!!
Watch my ass get fired tomorrow just because I was boasting so much here. No one likes a Braggy-Betty!
Does anyone else have these lofty visions of how everything is just going to "change" and you're going to become this wholly other person when some one new thing comes along? Like you get a new job, for instance, and in your head you're all of a sudden much prettier and you envision yourself losing all your excess weight and all your problems being solved instantly and automatically and you have all kinds of fabulous clothes all of a sudden and your car looks much better in your head than it actually does. Am I the only one who ever does this? If I am, I take it all back. I never do that.
Heidi says I'll probably be her maid of honor when she gets married. She has no idea how brutally I am going to hold her to that. I've already told her I'm singing Mystikal's Shake Yo Ass in her honor on the special day. I think it's safer than actually giving a normal speech after watching my rather crazy cousin fall flat on his face in that regard at his brother's wedding last year. Lawd Almighty! He stood up and droned on incoherently for what seemed like an eternity about basketball in some bizarre accent that he adopted for the occasion (he had to speak english because my cousin was marrying a Japanese girl) that sounded like those Talk Boy gadgets of old when you put them on slow. He then concluded the speech by asking everyone to raise their glass to congratulate the "bride and broom". Were I at best a semi-decent person I would've felt bad for him. Instead both me and my brother as if on cue fell forth onto the table and giggled ourselves silly. And for that I KNOW I have some seriously bad speaking-at-weddings Karma built up, waiting for me to walk into it's trap with a bloodthirst that only Karma possesses. Therefore, to protect my dignity and untainted reputation, I shall stick to rapping about asses. Makes sense, no?
Q: Why do you have to take two mormons on fishing trips?
A: If you take just one, he'll finish all your beer.
Mormons will get that one.
No mormons read this but me.
I got it.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
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Well I heard there was a secret chord
that David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do ya?
Well it goes like this :
The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya
And she tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
But from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
(Yeah but) Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor, (You know)
I used to live alone before I knew ya
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch
and love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do ya
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath you drew was Hallelujah
Maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya
It's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
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Why do people with a cause have to be so meek and mild and politically correct all the time? Whatever happened to passionate, enthusiastic activists with a "vision"? The arabs have the right idea. Everyone else is trying so hard to be sensitive and sensible and all kinds of sensi-something that not a damn thing gets done.
What the hell did Gloria Steinem's not-getting-a-manicure ever do for me? How is my life improved by her vigilant stance to keep hers an unshaven haven? Feminist activist, my ass. Give me Lorena Bobbitt any day. Now there's a woman of action! One quick chop was all it took and men the world over have a whole new reason to think twice before their wandering eye gets the better of them. Now that's what I call result.
On a related subject, if I never ever hear Michael Stipe's bald ass whine on television about how we should all save the rainforests it will be too soon. Is there anyone out there that actually takes advice from Michael Stipe? If so, would you please come forward immediately to receive your complimentary execution. It just pisses me off to no end every time I see him sit there and empathetically moan to the public how they should give just 5% of their $1200 a month paycheck to free a chinese "women's activist" (no manicure, hairy legs... you know the score) from her Burmese prison. Hey Michael? How about instead of lending your whiny, annoying voice to the cause why don't you just give 5% of what you have? I'll be a monkey's uncle if that doesn't add up to ten times the amount your retarded infomercial brings in. Fuck that chinese activist, anyway. Free Lorena Bobbitt!!
Isn't there a tree out there somewhere that needs a hug?
