While looking for fodder for the blog, since she and Glamour Diva have decided to tone down all the rugby posts, galaxyMafia came across this gem from her electronic diary. Back in March of 2004, she was quasi-dating a Finnish dude with an ex-fishwish and two uppity Mexican daughters. Said Finnish man was an architect, and one weekend, he got a wild hair and wanted to go visit some building in Dallas which was designed by some famous architect whose name she forgets (actually, she probably never knew it to begin with). So, they set off on I-45 heading north, and ended up in Big D, where they checked into a room at the famed Adolphus hotel, which was founded by the Busch family, as in the people who make that cheap, lame ass Budweiser dumb frat boys chug during Happy Hour. Anyhoo. . .here’s a snippet of the trip.
This hotel does not exactly suck. I can’t be that harsh. But it lies. I was promised an ottoman. I was looking forward to the ottoman – alas, no ottoman. This why I do not travel to Dallas. No Yellow pages either. “What kind of hotel are they running here?” Tapio wonders. A hotel that promises ottomans but does not deliver them. Obviously.
God. This is how I know He loves me. I have learned a lesson. Don’t lie about saying you will have your own room when you know you won’t. Spent last night in the lion’s den. Said lion being one Hannu Tapio Pilaskari (or however the fudge you spell it). Lion roared all night. Used to think the expression “sawing logs” to describe snoring was just some writer’s attempt to be clever. Now know that I was wrong. The man sawed some logs last night. Sawed a forest. Somewhere in the Yellowstone National Park, trees are strewn about the ground as far as the eye can see, viciously cut down in their prime! I tried to sleep by the door. Did not work. The cacophonous snoring permeated every stinking square inch of the hotel. And that is a lot of unrestrained permeation when the room ain’t really 550 sq.ft. like the damn internet ad promised. Anyhoo, I think I got maybe three hours of sleep. Or maybe I only wished I had. Maybe I was dreaming. I got up and got a 7-Up from the bar. Drank it and burped. Seemed fitting at the time. Tried to sleep again. Somewhere, sometime in the ether of the night, the lion arose from his slumber to ask me why I had been up all night. Was lion serious? Lion then tried to gather me in his arms. Soon, he was promptly snoring in my ears. I managed to get away. Went to sleep by the door this time and was somewhat more successful this time. Until sounds of the guy in the next room hacking woke me up. Got up and used the bathroom. Washed up and brushed teeth. Considered leave a mountainous load of shit in the toilet for lion as a good morning surprise. But, that is unladylike. And I didn’t have to shit. Oh yeah, bathroom has a scale. Got on it and it said like 138. I have lost weight. Even after all the junk food I have been eating. Even after eating a bunch of bread, spinach and artichoke dip and steak at Texas Land and Cattle. Where, by the way, the little Asian-bitch hostess (sorry) put us in the very back of the restaurant where we were pretty much isolated from the other patrons. I have a theory. We are a zebra couple and Dallas does not quite cotton to zebra couples even as they are aware of them. So, we were placed in Siberia so as not to offend the other customers. Man. That’s another reason I don’t come to Dallas. Other than the fact that Dallas is Dallas, which should be reason enough on its own.
Copyright 2007. . .galaxyMafia. . .did NOT have sex in the hotel room with the Finnish dude, just in case you were wondering. . .which, probably you weren’t