I'm staying in the same hotel for 2 weeks! Actually, that's not true, my team is staying in the same hotel for 2 weeks. I fly home Monday. By home I mean my mommy's house. The compound where I grew up across the street from the school I vandalized and up the hill from the Steinberg's where I stole poptarts and chocolate milk as a bored teen.
This hotel is weird. If I walk to the laundry room, it's 333 steps by way of the hallways. But if I cut through the courtyard during daytime, it's 241 steps. I counted. I FUCKING COUNTED THE STEPS TO THE LAUNDRY ROOMMMMM! What the hell is wrong with me?
Is there any normal sane person out there who would do such a thing? I'm almost afraid to ask...
Booby glanced at my notebook the other day as I was taking notes of credit card expenses for work. He freaked and said "Shit one day if I'm found dead they'll take your notepad as proof that you may have killed me, only psychotic people write notes like that!"
Come back in a few hours, I may have scanned a sample page. But then again, why would I do that? To prove to you that I'm a demented psychotic freak? (oh please, don't tell me your son is a demented-psychotic-freak-type and that I've offended you... please, I don't need any drama today!)