donald trump can bite me (warning: many cuss words to follow)

i wasn't excited when i heard we'd be staying at the trump in vegas.  but the husband needed to be close to the convention center.  and his work is paying for the stay.  so no biggie.  i had mild reservation only because donald trump is a bit of a conservative, obnoxious tool.  but how bad could his "5 star resort hotel" be?

we arrived monday and the tv was broken.  it was fixed and then it broken again, every day, in new and different ways.  it was comical.  and we ended up getting comped for $100 because of it.  the manager was always nice about it, and i never bitched.  i just called down and reported the problem.  i got to know the tv repair guy and joked with him about it each day.

the bed is the worst bed i've ever slept on in any hotel.  the cleaning people left a bag of garbage on our bed one day.  they took our dirty kitchen wears (plates, glasses) and never brought replacements.  the food is HORRIBLE.  but whatever, we're here for dan's work.  

the pool staff people are lovely.  spending 3 days there, i got to know the waitress and then girl handing out towels.  i tipped them quite a bit.  i enjoyed my poolside daybed, swimming, mimosas, etc... 

yesterday was my 3rd and final day at the pool.  a new waitress was working, a bit snotty.  whatever, i'm there to swim and soak up the lovely dry heat.  (thanks arthritis & fibromyalgia i've got a tan!)  i spent all morning there, went to my room for a break and some AC, then headed back for lunch.  a turkey sandwich and red sangria.  yum!

i started lunch and the waitress handed me a bill for $90.  i said, "wow, that's an expensive turkey sandwich!" and laughed, thinking it was some silly mistake.

she explained that it included the cost of the day bed.  i explained that it was supposed to be comped.  she explained that she didn't know and it was the end of her shift, so could i just sign it?  i explained that fuck no (in my head) i would not sign it because it was wrong.  

so the explaining wasn't working and i asked to speak to the manager.  she huffed off.  i put down my sangria and prepared to talk to the manager.  i wanted to be nice about it, because it was just a silly mistake.

here's how the conversation went:

manager: you needed something?

me: oh yeah, there's been a mistake, this daybed rental was comped by the hotel manager.

manager: that was for yesterday

me:  yesterday was when the kid puked in the pool and it had to be shut down.

dick manager:  well we comped you for yesterday, you have to pay for today.

pissed of me:  huh?  that doesn't make sense.  i was at the pool for an hour, had a mimosa and the kid puked.  what am i being comped for???  how do you comp for a comp that was ruined by a sick kid?

asshole manager: you are being comped for the drink and the fruit salad.

livid me: that doesn't make a lick of sense.  really.  i'm done with this.  you can have the daybed back.

smirking manager:  oh, i'll hold the daybed for you, incase you come back.

incredulous me: no thanks.

smirking asshole manager:  i'll hold it for you.

about to explode in a fit of rage me:  there's no way i'm coming back.

fucker mcfuckface manager: i'll hold it for you.

this is when the tears of anger started.  thank god for large sunglasses.

so instead of smashing his smirking face with my iPad, i got up, left my drink, and walked over to a nice family that has just arrived and were desperately looking for shade.  i asked them if they'd like my daybed, as i was done using it.  they were so excited.  i pointed to the manager and said, "if you need anything, just ask him for help." and i walked away.

and as i walked away, i saw his smirk disappear.  and in my head, i laughed and laughed.

and then i got to the room, cooled off, and called the hotel manager to let him know that his pool manager had not only charged me for a comped day bed, but that he made me cry.  the manager was horrified.  he went through our bill and explained that the comped day bed was actually a $50 credit on our bill.  which made sense.  he asked for the managers name and said that he should have taken the time to look at my bill, or at least handled it better.

he offered to move up to some fancy penthouse suite for the night, but i declined.  i said, "i'm not here to get things comped.  i know some people are obsessed with that.  i just want to pay for things and have them work and i want things to be fair.  i don't want to be treated with disrespect.  i'm 42 years old and in that time i've never sent a meal back or filed a complaint.  i'm not picky or fussy.  i just want things to be fair and ok.  thanks for the upgrade off, but we leave tomorrow, so no point in moving."

today our actual vacation begins.  dan's done working.  we move to a nice little hotel (vdara) on the strip.  tons of suff in walking distance, like the bellagio & the cosmopolitan.  i can't wait to check out the new hotel and the pool, of course.

after dan gets some rest, we're going to have a blast.  we want to go to freemont street at night.  i'm going to zipline there!  we're going to try and find the in & out burger near UNLV campus and a dive bar that doug stanhope once recommended to me (the double down.)  we might take a tour bus to a nation park.

oh, here's a funny letter that "the trump" sent to an online style writer, who mentioned his toupe in an article.  (maybe he'll send me a letter!)

post script:

some more fun with trump!

here's the store where you can buy a pack of gum for $4!  or you can go to pay, hear the price and say "no thanks" (fuck that noise!) and walk out.

trump merch, including his own cologne for men.  if it's anything like the perfumed scent in the lobby, i'm guessing it's called "failure".

there's me!

the croque madam breakfast with Mornay sauce was excellent.

hey wait, there's no grilled tomato on my damned sandwich!  i asked the waitress about it and she said the menu was wrong and needed corrected.

oh donald... even your menus are full of fail.

love,
xxxooo
bittergirl 

swimming...

i leave the house on cold, snowy mornings, to get my fix.  i wait outside the ugly concreate building at 5:55am, waiting for them to open the doors.  sometimes i go on my lunch hour when i'm working from home.  i go when i'm sick, when i'm tired, when my car's buried under a foot of snow.

i love to swim.  doggy paddle is my signature stroke.  sometimes i float on my back (see the drawing above).  i love the feeling of floating while the water swirls around me.

there are different kinds of "pool people".  there are the times when it's "open family swim" with families and kids.  i avoid those times as a rule.  there are early morning "adult lap" swimmers, athletes, mostly men in speedos and latex swimming fast & hard, splashing everyone, hogging swim lanes.  i go when necessary.  

my favorite time to swim is during "senior water aerobics" lunch hours.  the pool is suddenly filled with chatty old ladies.  some walk with canes or even walkers.  they walk down a special ramp to get into the pool.  once they hit the water, they are transformed.  they start laughing, giving friends a hello hug, trading recipes, or gossiping about the older gent who swims slow laps around them.  they are like a beautiful gaggle of geese!

i think the water feels so good because it's forgiving.  those ladies leave their canes by the side of the pool, and suddenly they can walk without pain.  we all float.  we move.  and it feels lovely.

my favorite part of the pool is the point where the floor of the pool starts to drop off.  going from 3 feet, 4 feet, 6 feet.  i love walking down that steep ledge and feeling the moment where my feet leave the floor and i start to float...

what the dogs have taught me.....

 i took gilly to get her nails cut on my lunch break. i brought griffin too.  he loves to ride in the car. i left him in the car in the shade since it was a quick appointment. he had a bowl of water and was happy to hang out.

 gilly & i  walked in to the waiting room and there was this huge, ancient dog.  some kind of a great dane.  he was black with a lot of gray hair.  he struggled to get up and walk over to gilly.  she sat calmly (odd for her.)  he sniffed the top of her head for a moment and then went to lay back down by the man who held his leash slack in his hands.

the woman standing next to him smiled and said, "well old buddy, at least you got to play one last time..." and then she started crying.  i looked back at the dog and saw his bones jutting out.  he was dying, she explained, and they were there to put him out of his misery.

of course i started crying.  the man holding the old dogs leash wiped away some tears.  all i could think to say was, "he's very handsome.  i bet he was a beautiful dog in his day."

the nurse came in to call them back and the man gave up on the leash and picked up his dog and carried him back.  the woman followed behind.  before she went through the door she turned and said, "thanks for letting him meet your puppy.  take care..."

we went back and got gilly's nails cut.  she behaved perfectly and the vet techs commented on how pretty she was, and well behaved.  i was still crying and i asked them how they could stand to work there, seeing all the sad cases & old dogs being put down.

one of them answered me (i noticed she had been crying too).  she said, "we love these animals, and sometimes we cry, like today.  but we get to smell puppies and play with kittens too."

after that, i took gilly & griffin to the park for a long walk,  we found a path that led down to the water and they both walked in.  they were wet & muddy and had a good time.

we're home now.  everyone has had lunch and the dogs are napping.  gilly is on the couch snoring.  i wonder if she's thinking of that handsome old dog she met today....

all of this has me thinking about my life with dogs, and what they've taught me.  i don't have any big philosophical message.  each dog was so different.  it's funny to think of them all now... and really, what they have taught me is that i should enjoy the time we have together.  stop worrying about the bills, the house, how old griffin is getting... have fun whenever there's the chance for fun.  i think that's it.

here are the deep and meanful lessons each dog has taught me:

have fun!

work your cuteness...

be dignified at times....

be shiny and handsome....

take lots of naps........

and be able to laugh at yourself....

i was a morbid kid....

recently copax mentioned reading about the 30 year "anniversary" of the jonestown massacre. (i hate the word anniversary for such unhappy dates.) as a child i actually saw the news footage of the senator being shot on the airstrip, up late one night watching tv when i should have been sleeping. i remember the shock of seeing someone being shot....

this got me to thinking about what a morbid kid i was. i spent hours reading an old paperback copy of "sybil" i found in my grandma's attic. i was also fascinated with "helter skelter". i followed the ted bundy case in grandma's reader's digest. there was something about real life horror stories that intrigued me.

elementary school- racism & MLK jr's murder was a big obsession. then i saw a film about the holocaust (the movie "julia" made me cry so hard i missed a day of school). i kept pestering my grandpa about it (his family left yugoslavia before WWII). he'd get me to shut up by telling me the story about the time his mom chopped the head off a sheep and it chased him for a mile.

junior high- hiroshima & nagasaki. i wrote 3 different reports on those nuclear bombs and the devastation, until a teacher finally told me to stop writing about it.

high school- back to racism, MLK jr's assassination, serial killers, the moors murders, and finally my senior year a 50 page report on oscar wilde (with a focus on his tortured life in the closet and grotesque death.)

some other random evidence that i was an odd kid:

age 4: organized a neighborhood "run away from home" initiative. we loaded up a red wagon with important supplies (stuffed animals and crackers) & headed for the park at the end of the street. i'd seen some houses up on a high hill at the back of the park, and thought my friends and i could find a place to stay there. sadly, my dad busted us 1/2 way up the street and most of my friends (but not me) got spanked.

age 5: snuck into my grandma's basement with my best friend and created something i called "fagnotion". really, i don't know how i got that name. it was supposed to be a magic potion. we got a huge bucket and poured in cleaning supplies, koolaid and candy. it foamed up and spilled all over and we got in trouble. thankfully there were no explosions.

age 7: at a sleepover i organized a "stay up all night and drink vinegar" party. why? because i heard if you drank vinegar it would make you as pale as a vampire. so i snuck a bottle of vinegar out of the kitchen and tried to get my friends to drink it. they all balked and fell asleep before "big chuck & hoolihan" came on, and i was pissed.

i also wanted to be in a wheelchair. i speed-read judy blume books and highlighted the naughty parts for my lazy friends who didn't like to read books. i turned my barbies into mummies.


so i guess it's not suprise i ended up living with a well behind an old barn, full of old dolls. or that we have an antique wheelchair with a life-sized replica of my friend's son, know as "the creepy henry doll." we buy him halloween outfits. it all makes sense!

i'm anti-children, wishes, dreams & miracles

i'm home today, cooking & cleaning up a storm before having groundcat's family over for dinner. i love this kind of stuff and my secret dream is to be a 1950's housewife. except i'm not in a dress and pearls, and instead wearing old man pajamas (with awesome bed head.)


i was expecting an important business call at 10:30am. the phone rang at 10:25 am & i jumped to answer it. it turned out to be the strangest telemarketer call ever.

me: hello

him: hello there. may i please speak to dan or mrs. hearn?

me: that would be me!

him: i'm calling from the children's wish miracle foundation (or something like that)

me: oh gosh, we're not interested, but thanks for calling

him: what aren't you interested in? (raised voice) you only know our name! what exactly aren't you interested in???

me: um.... wow.... well.....you're..... interesting...

him: well, i'm just curious to know what you're not interested in!!! (raised voice now includes sarcastic tone)

me: um.....ok...... well...i'm not interested in donating money over the phone. we donate to other groups already.

him: but you don't even know anything about our group!!!!

me: wow..... well... i guess i'll have to say that i'm not interested in children. i'm not interested in miracles or wishes either. and i'm not trying to be rude, but i'm expecting a really important business call in 1 minute.

him: well, good luck with your important business call!!! click.

it was just so bizarre. he was so confrontational, sarcastic and emotional, like he was taking it personal. and i tried to be so nice about it! i think i need to go back to screening all my calls... but i was cracking up afterwards over telling someone i wasn't interested in hope & dreams.... he he he.....

in other news- john mccain & sarah palin are going to be at mentor high school on thursday. that's in walking distance of our house!!! i wonder if they'll want to come pose in front of our barn? i'll be home that day. i'm gonna have to paint over the bicenntenial logo and replace it with an "obama in 08" mural!!! or maybe this sign.....

yearbook photos...

my old pal T found another great meme that i'm stealing!

renny!


here's some of my work:

chippewa lake amusement park

here's great wesbite for chippewa lake. i hate to hear it's been bought and going to be turned into a "health resort." boring!