Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Every time I open my mailbox at home and I see something from the good people of CARE, I sigh and say aloud to myself, "You donate to one fucking tsunami..."

Seriously, they won't let me be. I helped the bitches of Katrina, but I went to Habitat for Humanity for that disaster. So now I've got Jimmy Carter trying to hit me up for some cash. So I've learned my lesson. Don't give money. Or if you do, just give to one charity and stick with it, and let them be the only ones to occasionally bother you. Otherwise, you are going to get mail every day with pictures of some poor homeless kid eating a homeless guy's poo for dinner. Yeah, I know. I thought they went too far with that picture as well.

I wanted to donate to that Pakistani earthquake, because that was by far the worst disaster of the last year, but I've gots to save my money. Sorry, Pakky. I'll catch you on the flip flop.

So I'm down 150 bucks as of yesterday. Why? Because I lost a tuxedo jacket that I rented for my friend Kevin's wedding. 150! The bitch of it is that I know I left it somewhere at the hotel. I was getting ready to leave and check out, I checked the pockets, then I guess I put it down, called the front desk for a speedy check out, but forgot to pick up the jacket.

So I got home and realized it wasn't there and called the hotel immediately. The lady said that she would put a lost & found request in and get back to me within 24 hours. So I was all, "24 hours? Bitch, I was just in room 521 45 minutes ago, so send some bell hopping motherfucker up to 521 and scope it out." Except the only problem was that I said that in my head and not out loud. Instead, I was like, "OK, thanks." To be honest, I wasn't too concerned because I was 99% sure I left it on a chair in the room.

So they called me back the next day, just under the 24 hour deadline, and told me they didn't have it. She said that it was possible they didn't clean the room yet. So I was all, "Bitch. It's one day later. Don't give me this shit about not cleaning the room. I had some cleaning lady knocking on my fucking door at 9 in the morning! If they still didn't clean it, then what did she want at 9:00?!?! I wanna talk to a manager! Oh, I am furious!!!!!"

Again, though, I only said that in my head. I don't remember what I said out loud this time. So I called back later that day to see what was what. When she said it still wasn't found, I politely told her that I thought this was a little troubling, because I know the jacket was somewhere on their property. I don't know who would only want the jacket to a rental tuxedo, but I was imagining that a housekeeper's husband was now dressing a little classier.

Oh, one weird thing was the lady who called to first let me know about not finding the jacket. She ended her phone call with, "Have a blessed day." I thought that was odd for the people at Marriott. I hate when people say that, because it's like you aren't as great as them if you just say, "Have a good one." This bitch wants me blessed. And isn't there some sort of separation of church and hotel rule? Isn't that the whole reason they didn't let the baby Jesus in the inn? They used that whole, "We have no more room" as an excuse to keep out the Jesus freaks.

I brought the tux back to the Men's Wearhouse, where I had rented my wears, and the gal was like, "OK, just wait a moment while I verify that we have everything." So I say, "Well, I can tell you right now that the jacket isn't in there."

I truly believe I am the first person to have ever have lost a jacket. She was like, "You lost it?!" So I said, "Well, I know I left it at the hotel, but they are telling me they can't find it. I don't wanna talk about it."

So now she shouts to another lady way across the Men's Wearhouse, "Hey! He lost the tuxedo jacket!!! You have to- He lost the jacket! To the tuxedo! You have to tell me what to do!" That was kind of embarrassing, sort of the Men's Wearhouse equivalent of being at a supermarket and they are like, "Can I get a price check on the Fart-No-More medicine? And the Crippling-Dandruff-Be-Gone shampoo? And the Dr. Slippy Shits adult diapers?"

So the other lady had to come over because the girl didn't know how to charge me for it. The other lady asked me what happened, and I started to explain how annoying it was that they couldn't find it, and how I wouldn't be so annoyed if I was just a drunk idiot that left it somewhere, then I found myself again saying, "I don't wanna talk about it." That phrase became totally involuntary.

Anyway, I called the hotel one more time, talked to a different lady, and she was like, "I don't see a jacket." Now I am just picturing her sifting through this little lost & found box, waiting for her to ask me, "Um, you said it was black, right? Is it sunglass shaped?"

Finally, Tuesday night I got a call from housekeeping and they told me they found it. Hurrah! She then told me to have a blessed day. And I said to her, "Ma'am. It already is blessed. I thank you." That's not true. I just said, "Thanks. Now FedEx that shit to me, bitch!" Also a lie. I didn't say anything to her because she left me a message.

So I will get my money back from the Men's Wearhouse, and everyone will be blessed.

Dr. Slippy Shits. That was funny. Good one.
All material © Mike Toole; 2003 - 2006