So there’s this new hottie @ the front desk, Cutie.  She started about 3 weeks ago, with a whole slew of new girls… but she’s like, um REALLY cute.  Brown girl.  Tiny, curvy, pretty, GORGEOUS smile.  Very chill vibe, sweet personality.  We never work the same shifts together… but I remember helping her out some during her training, we danced together @ the Christmas party, and the last few times I’ve seen her she’s always like, so smiley and touchy and (dare I say it?) flirty?  Yum!  I saw this morning on my way out and she asked abouy my New Years Eve plans.  I told her I was working.  She said they’d asked her to work overtime on NYE and she’d said no.. but that now maybe she’d take it on afterall.  This pretty much shot my ego through the glass roof, so I looked @ her and flashed a grin and said, “Good.  Now I’ll have somebody to kiss @ midnight.”  She smiled and said, “I know, right?  So we’ll have to go out afterwork and stuff.”  I consider myself to be something of an expert on the Art of Flirting and Acting Coy.  If this girl is toying with me, may her soul be damned.  I hope to have more updates on this, she’s hella cool and I like her game.  And to be honest, it’s nice to be reminded that throughout this recent drought? there’s still some life out there.

The city snow is pretty much gone.  Just a bunch of sludge and white crunch laying around.  It’s like living inside a coke-head’s nasal passages.  Ew.

Yeah, in addition for working 5 overnights this coming week, I’m also working New Year’s Eve (of course, b/c GayJay hates my ass). The lobby will be a madhouse.  We’re hosting a bigass party for Natalie Portman, another one for Dennis Leary, and also one for Britney Spears.  All of our bars, lounges, gardens, terraces, and penthouses are gonna be crammed full of rowdy A-list drunks, so I will be sure to take plenty of poloroids and leak them onto the Internet.  We’re gonna be completely sold out, too.  I feel a migrane coming on. Ehhh, whatever.  There could be worse places to be on NYE than @ the uber-cool Hudson, like sitting @ home alone in your apt, sobbing into your pillow and contemplating a midnight suicide… oh wait, that was Christmas Eve.

So, I spent the majority of my day napping and munching on holiday snacks.  I didn’t think to make a stop @ the grocery store before everything shut down all day, so I had a mighty big helping of G’ma’s fudge and Cheetos (thank God I bought the big bag).  I just kept thinking, Who the hell eats like this on Christmas?!  All I could picture was my family, all over @ somebody’s house somewhere in Texas, eating hot foods.  It was too depressing.  I went into BJ’s room and borrowed his sword (don’t ask) to prepare myself for a samurai-style suicide but ended up falling asleep before it got too drastic.   When I woke up it was 9pm and I had to get ready for work, so I took a look out the window and was FLOORED @ all the snow.  I had no idea it was going to snow like this today.  I got dresed in about 17 layers of flannel and ran outside.  It took like, 20 minutes to talk to the subway b/c the white was so deep, but also b/c I kept stopping to play in the snow.  It was EVERYWHERE!  Suddenly I wasn’t sad anymore, in fact I couldn’t stop laughing.  I felt about 6 years old.  It’s amazing how something that has nothing to do with any part of your day can comepletely change it anyway.  My first real, white christmas.

Monica Lewinsky checked into the hotel tonight.  I love it that we upgraded her from a Standard Room to a Deluxe Studio for no damn reason other than being a really popular slut.  I swear, kids, you know you have truly  arrived when your gag reflex gets you into places that you could never afford on your own.  So apparently, Little Misss Suckie-Suckie requested to be moved to three different rooms during her first hour of checking in.  she said the first 2 were smoking rooms and that she couldn’t stay in them b/c “… um, they like, stink of cigars.”  Heh, cigars.  The irony just doesn’t get any more delicious than that.  Not even if Alanis Morrisette is sitting on your shoulders, playing a guitar and singing a song about it.  Ahhh, I LOVE this shit. 

Work wasn’t too bad.  We had plenty of rooms so I knew it’d be a pretty smooth night.  What made it even better was when a little bird told me about the FREE FOOD that they serve every night in the kitchen after 12:30am!  I’m talking steaks and chicken and pot roast and meatballs and OH! MAH! GOD!  I ate like a greedy bitch.   I am so happy, I am so happy that I didn’t have to go the whole Christmas Day having only eaten chocolate and Cheetos.  Another cool thing about tonight, I worked with Dhalimu and out of nowhere he told me what a fantastic job I am doing.  I was like, “Huh?”  He said I’m proactive and upbeat, that he’s found my attitude to be my strongest attribute and thinks that I am the best one they’ve got right now.  Color me STUNNED.. and really touched.  Maybe all of the managers said the exact same thing to everybody on staff this week @ some point… who cares?  I am a rockstar, sometimes, and I am just gonna take ownership of this one.  It was sort of like a little Christmas present that I really, really needed.

  Merry Christmas, winners! 

It’s technically Christmas morning and I’m writing this entry from the Front Desk @ work… how sad is that?  We’re pretty much dead tonight, nothing going on.  Everybody I know has a life and isn’t up late on their computers chatting the night away of Instant Messenger (they’re not like me).  Hudson Bar closed early tonight so I have no drunk ppl to keep me entertained.  I love how everybody in the bar tonight was Jewish, though.  They were all like, “Jews actively NOT celebrating the birth of Christ, yeah!!! ”  And everybody’s going out to parties or coming back from dinners, they all have armloads of gifts and food and holiday shit.  They look so happy anf fucking cheery.  They keep looking @ me with these sad eyes and coo, “Awww, you’re stuck behind that desk tonight, huh?  That’s awful.  Anyway, can yu please send some champagne up to room number…”  I just smile and nod and make some lame joke until they walk away, and then I take a pair of scissors and give my Manager Voodoo Doll another jab in the crotch.

I’m sad.  It’s so damn dead tonight, I wish they could just let me go home.  The hotel is like an entirely different place @ this time when nobody is around.  It’s sorta cool to be the only person around here this late, I feel like it’s my house.  I almost kind of see what everybody loves so much about this place.  The design is really beautiful.

They say Christmas holidays is the time of year when the suicide rate is at its most high.  Ppl spend so much of their money on commercial shit (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and end up spending the better part of the New Year wallowing in debt.  Fortunately, I have nobody special to splurge on.  Um yeah… good thing.  Ugh, who wants to be one of those annoying happy couples on a Christmas morning anyway?  It’s so much more interesting to be bitter and jaded on all by yerself, at least what I keep telling myself this year.  My grandma in Texas sentme a Holiday Care Package full of fudge and rice krispie squares and cookies.  She sent a TARGET giftcard too.  I think this officially makes her my new best friend in the world b/c she’s the only one who sent me anything.  So I plan to spend the afternoon chillin’ in my warm bed, rotting my teeth with her snacks, and watching the “Felicity” marathon (pretending that they’re all my friends). 

  Bitter Christmas, party of one? 

The other day I was supposed to hang with my boy P, who I haven’t seen in months and months.  I showed up @ his place and the boy wasn’t there — sigh.  Who DOES that, dude?  Seriously, how do you invite somebody over to yer place to chill and then yu not be there?  IT sort of makes it impossible to hangout when only one of us showsup.  But whatever, P is a cool kid and I just told myself that he was off donating blood or teaching blind orphans how to save baby whales.  Anyway, I stopped by the movies to kill some time and ended up blacking out just as I got to the ticket booth.  When I came to, I was sitting in the theater with popcorn and a Big Gulp.  I don’t know how it happened but somehow I’d bought a ticket to Maid in Manhattan, the new, crapass Jennifer Lopez vehicle. 

My weakness for ensemble-oriented, working-class comedies goes back — way back to my childhood.  i always knew what it was like to be a middle-class kid with like, B-list shit and parents who only had one car… these real-ppl movies speak to me.  And yes, The J.Lo, despite her diva thing, kind of appealed to me.  Don’t get me wrong, I know she’s a horrfic actress, I know she cannot sing for shit (hew new “Jennie from the Block” song makes me want to beat my face against a wall), and I know that she has single-handedly spawned just a little bit of hatred for Puerto Ricans in all of our hearts (admit it)… but I cannot fight it, I cannot fight the power of The J.Lo.  The fact that the movie is set in New York with hotel maids as the main characters only intensified the spell I was under… I simply HAD to go see this shit.  This is really all P’s fault, if yu wanna know the truth, b/c he wasn’t home.  And also we should blame The J.Lo, too.  Damn them both.    I’m so uncool.   

If anybody asks me, I’d just gonna lie and say I went to see Star Trek.

I have a crush on Kelly Osbourne.  I was slow to admitting it b/c she sort of reminded me of this mean girl I used to work with a few years ago, same hairstyle and shit.  But as much as I fight it, I cannot deny her cute factor.  It’s won me over.  Yes, her “music career” should be cited in the Guinness Book of World Records as the Most Blatant Display of Nepotism (tm my gal J)… but she’s just a cute, cute girl with a funny sense of humor.  When she rants about something, I cannot stop howling with laughter.  I love how disgusted she gets with annoying things and ppl.  She’s curvy and plucky!  She’s british!  She likes to sing karoke!  What’s wrong with that?  In the last episode, she was seeing some grunged up little scruffball.  And I heard she was dating Gideon Yago, the indie kid from MTV.  Kelly, you can do WAY better than that — you could have ME.  I’d never fart in your car, I’d never lose your luggage @ the airport, and I’d never tell you how fucked up your family is.  It’s spriteboy@spriteboyworld.com, ok? 

Don’t be afraid, I’m a lot taller in person… with my big shoes.  Date me, Kelly! 

I am in the process of plotting the occupational demise of my former favorite manager-turned arch-nemises, GayJay.  The man has not only forced me to take on these damned overnight shifts, but has added 2 extra overnights to my schedule next week (including Christmas Eve and Christmas Day).  Even worse, he’s done it all without even consulting me.  I nearly went on a rampage when I looked @ the new posted schedule the other morning.  How does somebody get the balls to sit @ a desk and just dole out shit like that to ppl?  How do you just ironhandedly DECIDE from nowhere that someone is available and willing (and going) to work 11pm - 7am on Christmas?  How do you just ASSUME and DECLARE something so settled?  It fucking astounds me that he never even sat me down to ASK what I was available to work, or that he didn’t even notify me directly.  Instead, he just HEAPS this workload on me — FOUR OVERNIGHTS!!!  This was a shift that I was supposed to only take on two days a week for one month, and here I am heading into my 6th week of it.  The truth is, though I have hated the shift to death, I’ve learned to make the best of it.  I get along with the overnight manager, I made friends with the all-night housekeeping crew, I have steady banter with the security gaurds, I’m on a first-name basis with the hot cocktail waitresses from the HudsonBar, and the 24hr hotel operator BitchyRob and I are like, war buddies (he looks like Blade, I love it).  I have been an obliging team player and totally flowed with all the shit that has been handed to me — and done it all w/o complaining (out loud) or making a stink about things — but I’m afraid that the time to switch gears has come. 

I liked GayJay, a lot.  He was my favorite manager when I first started, but circumstances have pushed me to extremes.  It’s time to fight the power and take that bastard down.  I’m afraid going to have to employ my supernatural status as Personal Friend of Jax and have him relocated to someplace awful like Singapore, or the Bible Belt maybe.  Ohhhhhh the humanity of it all…  Vaya con Dios, GayJay.  May Jax have mercy on your soul.

So I’m a little bit sad about being stuck in the city for Christmas this year.  Everyone I know is leaving this weekend to go back home and see family and do all that sappy holiday stuff.  Normally I never let it phase me, but this time it’s sort of bumming me out.  I’ll head home in January, I think.  The truth is, I don’t miss Texas @ all.  Not one bit.  But I do want to see my family, it’d be great if they could just come out here.

They recently entrusted me with a CASHIER’S BANK @ work, which I pretty much dreaded b/c I only see it as a whole new way to confuse and frustrate myself.  I was so certain I’d fuck up my receipts every night and that nothing would add up or anything, but it’s actually gone relatively smooth.  When you add all your totals up @ the end of your shift and everything just MATCHES perfectly? it’s like, the greatest sense of fulfillment in the world.  You feel like this genuis.  I wasn’t very sharp with Algebra in school, but whenever I did understand, it just made so much sense.  Math is truly astounding, it’s just this perfect measure of space and order and I Iove it when it suddenly clicks in my head.  So, yayy me.  Although now that I’ve said this, I’m sure my bank balance will be off every single night from now on… just b/c that’s how my luck goes. 

Back to the ways of Insomnia lately.  Can’t fall asleep.  I have no idea what fuel I’m running on anymore, maybe it’s just pure horniness?  I swear, my body is going to give out on me one day while I’m walking down the street and only my perpetual hard-on will break the fall.  Ouch? and um, I’m sorry for the over-share.

We had the Secret Santa Exchange today.  It was a lot more fun than I expected.  Somebody got me a hat/scarf from the GAP which looks really good on me, I have to say.  You know, there’s something kinda cool about seeing a bunch of ppl just laughing and smiling @ each other… I guess it’s sort of a rare thing to be around in New York City.  Sometimes I feel like I don’t know a single person here, or just that they don’t really know me.  Then I wonder why it matters when I only see these ppl a few hours of my day… I never really understand why I think about things like that.  It just matters to me, sometimes.  Well, I ended up buying my secret match a gift card to COMP USA.  I’m such a techie nerd, I know… I just truly believe that all of life’s problems and little miseries can be solved and made better by an ambitious spree @ the electronic store.  Shoot me. 

I honestly can’t stand Puff Daddy/P.Diddy/Puffy/Sean Jean or whatever the hell he calls himself now.  Back in like, 1997, I was all about the love for Puffy.  He was cool!  “Can’t Nobdoy Hold Me Down” is currently on my MD mix!  But um… what happened?  Seriously, somebody put this old cow out to pasture.  I think we are all over his shit.  J.Lo dropped him, Arista dropped him, and last I heard he was opening for Brintey Spears on her last tour.  Isn’t that like, a sign of the apoclopyse?

I watched some of this new “Making the Band 2″ shit, which he’s behind, and I see nothing but a flashy little primadonna.  He is like, SO aware of when a camera is on him, you can see him trying to flex and slide all these gangster poses in.  It annoys me how blatanly open he is with his disses on these young aspiring artists on the show, you can see how much they look up to him and he’s such a little asshole.  The mindgames he’s playing with these kids are appalling, the hoops he makes them jump through… he fucking spray painted a motto on the wall of their house and makes them recite on command.  When they complete one of his little impromptu missions, he rewards them with clothes from his own line.  These poor kids… it just kills me b/c this whole thing is all purely for Puffy’s amusement.  Such a little ego trip for him.  I think he’s only doing this show so that ppl can see him being a businessman and being all tough and unimpressed by the whole hype.  It’s so damn deliberate.  Would somebody who’s truly @ the top of the music industry really need to do a B-list reality show like this?  The first “Making the Band” got freakin’ cancelled — why would you sign on for a new, R&B version of a failed sitcom?  Between his resturant, his clothing line, and his constant name-changing… ugh, I just find him incredibely false and contrived, every single thing he does is calculated but disguised as effortless and genuine.  I read that he’s trying to put a copyright on the letter “P.”  I swear, I want to find him and throw grapejuice on his white suit or something.

Back in the day, when a dog got old and only laid around being useless and quit pulling his weight around the farm, they’d take him out to the woodshed and shoot him.  Two words, Puffy: Old Yeller.

I recently accompanied my dawgs M&J on an embarassing little trip to some comic bookshop on St. Mark’s Place.  For fear that I would be spotted in such an uncool nerd store, I wore sunglesses, a trenchcoat, and answered only to the name Vladamir.  Once I started looking around I totally got into the shit.  Comics are like this whole underground cutlure, it’s sort of amazing.  The detail and stories are so intense, it’s just this whole new level of art to me. 

I actually met a very cool kid named Sal Cipriano a few months ago through Gorgeous Roomate.  As it turns out, he’s this huge up-and-comer in the whole underground cartoon/zine scene, most notably for his collection of work, “Altered Realities.”  He’s got a website on the way too, and I’ll link to it soon so everybody can see his work (his offbeat series Broken Donuts is the shit).  Big Big Props to my boy Sal, especially for drawing up these freakin’ cool cartoon sketches for my site and indulging my sad little ego.   

Do these Old Navy commercials with Morgan Fairchild and the American Idol kids annoy anybody else?  It’s not like those ads weren’t already America’s deepest, darkest shame, but now they go and add prime-time failures and aging primadonnnas into the mix.  What kind of a world is this?  I ask you, dammit.  I demand that Morgan Fairchild, as well as the A.I. losers,  be banned from any type of contact with the American public ever again.