glove bombs and mustard cannons.

When you work in a hotel like I do, crazy, wild, stupid, unbelievable shit happens pretty much every day. ( and you see a lot of people having sex, whether you want to or not!) But some of the most insane, stupidest crap comes from the very people you work with.

The day before I had the misfortune to sprain my wrist trying to move the ice cream cooler, and yesterday it had swollen and turned an unpleasant bright red and was making me want to cry, so I filled a laytex glove up with ice and put it on my wrist. ( I learned this trick after having prince, when they gave me a glove of Ice to put in the very sensitive area after childbirth. Its kind of like being fingered by the grim reaper but it definately works.) After a while all the ice had melted and the two tylenols I had taken began to take effect, so I set the glove full of cold water aside. Will, GIrl Lifegaurd, who likes to visit was up with me and Boss. Boss told her to put it down, and of course, she viewed that as a direct challenge and made like throwing it at him. Then overtaken by a clever idea, she grabbed a new glove, filled it with water at the sink and poked a hole in the middle finger so she could use it like an udder. She tried to squirt it at Boss. Boss grabbed it. The glove udder exploded water in a four foot radius I had barely moved out of. Hilarity ensued.

Then Girl Life Gaurd returned to save drowning folk and then Boss's Boss came in. We discussed the water on the floor ( not involved) and whether or not my monogram ring is actually my name ( it is, you idiot, it goes first initial, Last Initial, middle initial and my last and middle initials are the same. You ask this EVERY DAY) discussed my Nazi neighbors ( unfortunately involved) and what to do about my wrist ( no, I don't want to file a damn report, it's not going to fall off.)

And then, quite suddenly, Dave ( boss's boss) pick up our new, Mega-condiment dispenser, that hold five pounds of either ketchup or mustard and says "HAve you figured out how far these things can shoot?"

Um, no, Dave. No we haven't because launching mustard bombs is a waste of mustard.

But that doesn't stop him, oh, no, no way! He flips that thing up, points it straight at me and FIRES!!!!!! I barely escape into the far corner of the storeroom. Mustard shot literally 20 feet, from the far side of the counter, across the kitchen and halfway across the storeroom. I was 8 inches away from being struck by mustard. It could have been very traumatic. And ruined my pants. But it didn't so I laughed.

And thus we had the hilarity at work yesterday.

Nazis will be explained at a later date. Maybe tomorrow. If I can fet the balls enough to talk about them, because Nazis are bad, bad, bad. ANd they might come for me.