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When you come out of your hotel room or answer the door for any reason, please PLEASE be dressed. I don't mean half dressed. You are not at home.
Exhibit A:
Old man in white, silk robe...and nothing else. How do we know there was nothing else? By the sickening flopping motion with every step. You may now all share a bottle of brain bleach. Don't use it all, though. You'll need it later.
Exhibit B:
Shoeless and carefree in a foodservice area. Maybe you eat breakfast barefooted at home all the time. The fact is, if you walked into a restaurant barefooted, they would make you leave. Why? Because it's a safety hazard. Health department regulations require us to make you leave and put your shoes on. Therefore, bitching at us about it isn't going to make us budge. You'd be singing a different tune later when you're barefooted darling catches a shard of that plate somebody broke earlier in his pwecious widdle toe.
Exhibit C:
Too old be be wearing your pjs/nighties out in public. Yes, a hotel, outside of your room, is in public. All you naive little teenage girls are old enough to attract the perverted stares of the still drunk/hung over crowd trying to ease the misery brought on by the previous night's excesses with the greasiest omelets I can muster. General rule of thumb: if you can't pass off band-aids as a makeshift bra any more, you're too old for this.
Exhibit D:
Speaking of bras...and speaking of D's...or DD's - if you are female and old enough to own a bra, wear it. Yes, we can tell. No, that sweatshirt doesn't make your torso shapeless enough that two dangling lumps are not visible all the way across the room. I'm sure if that kid were old enough to not be oblivious to it, they wouldn't want the whole hotel knowing that grandma's knockers knock her belt continuously while unrestrained. The whole hotel didn't want to know either.
Exhibit E:
Yes, that knock on the door means your room service order has arrived. Yes, you should probably answer the door. However, the hooker you had in the room with you had the sense and decency to cover herself up before the door was opened. Unlike you, you gigantic, shameless, sick, sick bastard. (And by gigantic, I mean morbidly obese, not plentifully endowed.) No, you didn't take your cues of propriety from a prostitute. Instead, you opened the door naked. Absofreakinglutely naked. The girl who brought you your meal was a new hire delivering her first room service order. Nothing like starting a new job off right. The only thing this poor girl did wrong was in her state of shock and uncertainty, she actually GAVE you the food and gave you the ticket to sign. All of this you accepted and sat your au naturel hiney down on the sofa to sign the ticket on the end table and return it to her. It never once dawned on you as this poor girl hastily retreated and your company for the evening sat wrapped in a blanket looking uncomfortable that something was wrong was this picture. Something horribly wrong. The words of the poor room service server inflicted with the nude visual might clarify this for you a bit: "There's nothing worse than balls when you don't expect them."
You may all now use the rest of that brain bleach.
P.S. I only heard the stories about Exhibit A, thank goodness I didn't work that day.
P.P.S. The room in which Exhibit E resided is now affectionately referred to as the "icky dick room" by the food and beverage staff.
Exhibit A:
Old man in white, silk robe...and nothing else. How do we know there was nothing else? By the sickening flopping motion with every step. You may now all share a bottle of brain bleach. Don't use it all, though. You'll need it later.
Exhibit B:
Shoeless and carefree in a foodservice area. Maybe you eat breakfast barefooted at home all the time. The fact is, if you walked into a restaurant barefooted, they would make you leave. Why? Because it's a safety hazard. Health department regulations require us to make you leave and put your shoes on. Therefore, bitching at us about it isn't going to make us budge. You'd be singing a different tune later when you're barefooted darling catches a shard of that plate somebody broke earlier in his pwecious widdle toe.
Exhibit C:
Too old be be wearing your pjs/nighties out in public. Yes, a hotel, outside of your room, is in public. All you naive little teenage girls are old enough to attract the perverted stares of the still drunk/hung over crowd trying to ease the misery brought on by the previous night's excesses with the greasiest omelets I can muster. General rule of thumb: if you can't pass off band-aids as a makeshift bra any more, you're too old for this.
Exhibit D:
Speaking of bras...and speaking of D's...or DD's - if you are female and old enough to own a bra, wear it. Yes, we can tell. No, that sweatshirt doesn't make your torso shapeless enough that two dangling lumps are not visible all the way across the room. I'm sure if that kid were old enough to not be oblivious to it, they wouldn't want the whole hotel knowing that grandma's knockers knock her belt continuously while unrestrained. The whole hotel didn't want to know either.
Exhibit E:
Yes, that knock on the door means your room service order has arrived. Yes, you should probably answer the door. However, the hooker you had in the room with you had the sense and decency to cover herself up before the door was opened. Unlike you, you gigantic, shameless, sick, sick bastard. (And by gigantic, I mean morbidly obese, not plentifully endowed.) No, you didn't take your cues of propriety from a prostitute. Instead, you opened the door naked. Absofreakinglutely naked. The girl who brought you your meal was a new hire delivering her first room service order. Nothing like starting a new job off right. The only thing this poor girl did wrong was in her state of shock and uncertainty, she actually GAVE you the food and gave you the ticket to sign. All of this you accepted and sat your au naturel hiney down on the sofa to sign the ticket on the end table and return it to her. It never once dawned on you as this poor girl hastily retreated and your company for the evening sat wrapped in a blanket looking uncomfortable that something was wrong was this picture. Something horribly wrong. The words of the poor room service server inflicted with the nude visual might clarify this for you a bit: "There's nothing worse than balls when you don't expect them."
You may all now use the rest of that brain bleach.
P.S. I only heard the stories about Exhibit A, thank goodness I didn't work that day.
P.P.S. The room in which Exhibit E resided is now affectionately referred to as the "icky dick room" by the food and beverage staff.
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