Musings about the Hampton Inn
On the road at the Hampton Inn. Lucky me. Last night, drank myself silly at the restaurant in the shopping center next door. Stumbled back to the room. I yelled at the cops flagging down DUIers outside the shopping center: "hey, you bastards, I'm WALKING!!"Today: am off, but need to prep for the new installation (see previous post); we'll be testing the equipment. That'll be tomorrow. In the funeral biz, see, Sunday's a dead day. (Hey, I made a funny!).
So this morning I hopped into the rented 4 Runner, drove from Everett down to Seattle, and took the ferry to Bainbridge Island. Lovely place, despite the el crapola gray skies and rain and chill in the air. Good looking wimmens; each one averted their eyes when they spotted your Nigel. I am ugly and grotesque, reason being.
You know, the Hampton Inn isn't for sissies. They have an extremely challenging shower on/off
thingy--what's hot? What's cold? Who the fuck knows? Another thing: the inside of the toilet bowl is too close to my dick when I'm sitting down, as I'm trying to release chocolate hostages. Why is that? It's some kind of shortened mini-shitter. I don't like foreskin touching porcelain, know what I mean? Finally, they've thoughtfully positioned the goddamm heater/AC directly next to the desk/work area, so you're either freezing or boiling and it's a-blowin' right on ya.I need a drink now. I'm off to the Hampton Inn bar--which is a fridge next to the check-in counter. Stocked with premium beer like Schlitz, PBR, and Schaefer's, and on the "honor system" (screw that crap--I'm stealing bottles left and right) well, hell, you can't go wrong.
posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 2:02 PM
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