It was just a little twist.
I was on my way to the pool.
The sun was out.
I couldn't deal with ray overloads.
Back to the room.
Angel was showing Emmy her new clothes.
Angel is an Iban ladyboy and Emmy an Indonesian cleaner.
I joked some.
Nice clothes. Even Emmy was eyeing them off.
Angel is a real swell girl.
She's decent and professional and has the perfect grace of a receptionist. She also doubles up as a cleaner. The hotel I'm staying at is a shag short time hotel.
Terry is her gay friend.
I have nothing against their gender.
I bitched to Angel about Emmy, the other Iban receptionist.
Angel was totally sympathetic and almost embarrassed that another Iban could act so arrogant.
I put the words out in the right channel for Emmy to reform.
She's sweet as apple pie these days.
She's in her forties and really means well. She just likes to show off in front of Iban guests but to her own detriment.
'I'll block you from checking in tomorrow,' she said, after accusing me of talking too much.
It's really not hospitality material, I told Andy and Joseph, the two Malay receptionists. And they forwarded the complaint.
I only want her to be better I said.
I deferred from complaining directly to Cindy the manager.
She hates Najib and knows I'm a fan of him. So if I complained, I feared she would actually not let me check in another night.
That's what Emmy the receptionist was banking on.
As I said, just a little twist.
The knee didn't swell but it kicked up a storm.
There was a wild Bronco bucking and carrying on inside my knee.
It had me in a funk.
Where was the morphine?
I found a piss bucket. It leaked.
I'm no stranger to pain.
Steve Cartwright was playing support unit.
'I play with pain levels,' he said.
So was I. I was doing test runs up and down the stairs.
Pain came, pain went. Steve kept on sending funny and encouraging tweets.
The next morning I'm expecting the worst.
I can walk. That jarring pinched pain has gone.
What the fuck?
This is miracle material.
I'm going to either a mosque, temple or church and I'm getting down on my wobbly knees and paying my respect to my maker.
In the depths of my pain, I promised my god I'd not annoy anyone.
It's something I'm seriously considering.
I was on my way to the pool.
The sun was out.
I couldn't deal with ray overloads.
Back to the room.
Angel was showing Emmy her new clothes.
Angel is an Iban ladyboy and Emmy an Indonesian cleaner.
I joked some.
Nice clothes. Even Emmy was eyeing them off.
Angel is a real swell girl.
She's decent and professional and has the perfect grace of a receptionist. She also doubles up as a cleaner. The hotel I'm staying at is a shag short time hotel.
Terry is her gay friend.
I have nothing against their gender.
I bitched to Angel about Emmy, the other Iban receptionist.
Angel was totally sympathetic and almost embarrassed that another Iban could act so arrogant.
I put the words out in the right channel for Emmy to reform.
She's sweet as apple pie these days.
She's in her forties and really means well. She just likes to show off in front of Iban guests but to her own detriment.
'I'll block you from checking in tomorrow,' she said, after accusing me of talking too much.
It's really not hospitality material, I told Andy and Joseph, the two Malay receptionists. And they forwarded the complaint.
I only want her to be better I said.
I deferred from complaining directly to Cindy the manager.
She hates Najib and knows I'm a fan of him. So if I complained, I feared she would actually not let me check in another night.
That's what Emmy the receptionist was banking on.
As I said, just a little twist.
The knee didn't swell but it kicked up a storm.
There was a wild Bronco bucking and carrying on inside my knee.
It had me in a funk.
Where was the morphine?
I found a piss bucket. It leaked.
I'm no stranger to pain.
Steve Cartwright was playing support unit.
'I play with pain levels,' he said.
So was I. I was doing test runs up and down the stairs.
Pain came, pain went. Steve kept on sending funny and encouraging tweets.
The next morning I'm expecting the worst.
I can walk. That jarring pinched pain has gone.
What the fuck?
This is miracle material.
I'm going to either a mosque, temple or church and I'm getting down on my wobbly knees and paying my respect to my maker.
In the depths of my pain, I promised my god I'd not annoy anyone.
It's something I'm seriously considering.
