D-Day

They're coming.  The kids are coming.  440 of them will descend on my home between the hours of 1-5 pm.  They will be invading my front lobby, my elevators, taking my granny smith apples from the front desk.  I mentioned this to a couple of British Airways pilots sharing the shuttle with us today and their response went a little like this: "expletive, are you joking?  Expletive, expletive, expletive....".  I think they are excited, and why shouldn't they be?  440 teenagers with raging hormones and big brothers to buy them alcohol is any hotel guests idea of a pleasant stay.  I'm just glad I'm getting payed to be here.  

We've been warned about the poor flight crews who stay here also.  Not warned about them, just warned about how terrible it is for them to be waken up in the middle of the day by 40 kids acting out triage from a fake disaster.  I've seen 3 different airlines represented here so far.  I met a flight attendant from KLM today and made sure to tell her that when I was on a long layover in Amsterdam I stayed away from the naughty bits of town.  Although someone told me yesterday that the prostitutes there have their own union.  I can only imagine what happens when they go on strike.  The whole city crippled begging the city to meet the demands of the prostitutes.  The garbage piles up, the backpackers begin to up-rise and the baguettes cease to be fresh.  We can't have that.  

Wish me luck!  

WELCOME HOME

I feel like Eloise.  I live in a hotel. 

 A nice hotel.  And the people who work he

re are so cordial!  "Yes ma'am, we will drive you wherever you want no charge".  "Yes ma'am, we can bring a refrigerator up to your room at no charge".  My own mini-fridge at no extra charge?  I'll take it!  True, it may smell faintly like Indian food inside but so do Indians and that doesn't stop me from talking to them.  I have this great corner room with windows that wrap around showcasing the almost flat Houston skyline.

My bed is GINORMOUS 

and I just know that if I run around the hotel in my little black skirt/suspenders outfit that the hotel guests and staff would just laugh and laugh at all the little pranks I pulled just like Eloise.  The only downfall seems to be the lack of dental floss at the front desk.  They told me I'd have to buy it in the gift shop.  What?!  Me?  Buy my own dental floss?  Preposterous.  I almost jumped across the front desk and slapped Olga for that one.   Oh....and there is one more problem here at the Houston Renaissance Marriott - they couldn't make the sun come out for the 4th of July.  Oh well, guess you can't have everything.

Or can you?  Cause I'm getting my shoes shined right now for free and enjoying complimentary beverages from my mini-fridge.  HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!!

Saved

I'm living in Houston the entire month of July.  Which as anyone whose ever been here knows is the best month to come.  Everything in Houston during the month of July is in it's peak.  The humidity is at an all time high, the heat has almost reached its pinnacle and the smell of the freeway next to use is ripe for the pickin.  Mmmm....  But if I'm being honest with myself and my sister who reads this - it isn't that bad.  I mean, how bad can a place be if there is a church across the street that draws a crowd of 10,000 people every Sunday?  Would 10,000 people trek across the great state of Texas and who knows where else to sit in a crap hole on Sunday?  No, I think not (unless they live in Jersey because the whole thing is basically a crap hole).  

I know what you're thinking.  What is this church that draws mega-crowds?  Oh, you know it.  You've all seen it on TV.  You've all seen it and all wondered what was going on.  And you will all fighting back the rage blackouts from being sooo jealous after I show you this:

 

That's right.  It IS him.  Joel Osteen - or as one person on the internet put it, the caucasian pastor on BET.   Pastor of the Lakewood Church right across the street from my renaissance Marriott.  How can I hate a place that has given me the gift of a televangelist right next door?  I can't and neither can you.  But we can both hope for a photo opportunity and maybe a healing or two.  Turns out his wife speaks also.  Bum deal for her.  I always thought I would be so mad if I married someone who changed careers halfway through marriage or invested all our savings in some miracle fruit or work from home kit.  But this worse.  You marry a man who loves you and God and then suddenly you have to speak in front of thousands and shellac your hair with spray and wear stage makeup all the time.  Stage makeup all the time?  That spells d-i-v-o-r-c-e right there.  But at least loving God in this instance pays.  

I bet it even comes with Dental.

 

Another day, another measly dollar

Finally.  A hotel that I can borrow wireless from in my room.  It's amazing  that you could pay so much to stay in a nice hotel and not have internet.  Shameful.  But at least I didn't pay for the hotel.  I'm in a Marriott in Boca Raton bestowing my wisdom on how to be a good leader on the junior high school kids.  God bless the middle school age kids.  Nothing like the elementary babes I've been with the past two years.  I only had one boy cry tonight suddenly because he missed his mom.  Turns out this is his first time away from home and even though he was bragging to me half an hour earlier about his size 13 shoes he's still a little teddy bear inside.  He sniffled I encouraged.  He teared up I joked.  He called his mom, I let him go to the bathroom to wash his face.  Teamwork.  

I don't know why I keep doing these conferences.  Everyone here seems to love kids.  They are all teachers of some sort.  But I'm not.  I don't ever really want to be one.  You should see the teachers faces at the Elementary school I work at occasionally...rough.  I rarely see the smiles come out.  I don't want to be like that.  I don't want to do it.  Sure, I like kids.  But this is not my calling in life.  Trouble is I'm having a tough time figuring out my calling in life.  I'm pretty sure it's not "yeah, that shirt doesn't really go with those shoes" or "you just need to cut your hair- you just need to".  That doesn't translate easily to steady income.

How do you find your dream job?  Do you stumble into it one day or do you stay up every night for 8 years trying to decide?  Someone help me figure it out.  And don't say "it will just come to you" because it hasn't and yes, I have been patient.

Bag, Borrow or Steal

My uncle has a bumper sticker on his car that reads: Love is a red rock.  If I was the kind of girl who put a bumper sticker on her car it would probably read: Love is a L.A.M.B. bag.  Except I don't like putting stickers on my car and my hands are full of love in the form of my new L.A.M.B. bag!  Pictured here:

I am no longer the jealous girl staring at others with L.A.M.B. bags thinking "who is that be-otch and how does she have a L.A.M.B. bag?".  Yes, I am now the proud be-otch of my very own bag.  My graduation present to myself.  A bag I love soo much that I had to take it out to dinner twice for its debut into society.  It's over-the-top, way too much money and right up my alley.  It's no secret I have a thing for Gwen Stefani and anything she makes, but I couldn't help but swell with pride when I saw this picture on a gossip site yesterday:

She loves it herself!!!  We have the same bag.......swoon.  I couldn't be prouder of myself than I am now.  I know we aren't supposed to love possessions, frivolous purchases for lots of money, but c'mon!  Just look at it!  And if you are surprised or disgusted by my materialistic bag-centered blog then remember this if we are ever walking together and happen to get mugged because this be-otch is pushing you towards that mugger while whisking her L.A.M.B. bag to safety.