Truth, Justice, Yada Yada Yada

When I started this blog, I made a few rules for myself. One was to not identify which hotel I work at. Two was not to use my real name or have my friends post it here, even though Jeremy the Dummy already did that. These rules were made because I respect my workplace and don't want to bring any accidental bad attention to it. Not that it really matters, as far as I know only friends of mine read it, which is awesome. If I don't know you and you found this blog, feel free to email me at graveyardchicago@gmail.com or leave me a comment here. I want to be virtually popular. The third rule I made for myself was not to use the real names of guests who stay here (unless they are celebs who have already checked out or hotel room porno makers). In my other blog, I have poked fun of people's names at my old property, but I've matured beyond that and gained respect for privacy. Until now. I cant help it. I am going to break rule number 3.

Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Bruce Superman is staying over tonight.

Holy shit. Bruce Superman! There's no way anyone could really have this name! Well, the credit card he used swiped the name Superman, B into the system, so KAPOW non believers! Now, I haven't met Bruce Superman. I don't think I need to. I know everything I need to know about him. Or at least everything I decided that I am going to pretend I know about him. Even though I'm sure this is impossible, but I want to make sure I like Bruce Superman and couldn't bear to take the chance to have him look down on me if I ever disappointed him. Who knows what Bruce Superman would do if his bath towels didn't come up in time.

What I know about Bruce Superman:
He's an AAA member, he'll drop $120 on room service, and another $150 in assorted restaurant charges. Obviously a man with developed palate and a heightened sense of bargain hunting. He hasn't rented a porno, but I doubt Bruce Superman has ever needed pornography. He also enjoys scented bath balls.

What I can assume about Bruce Superman:
He is a bad ass. If he was born Bruce Superman, no kid would ever mess with him. He probably never had to fight anyone in his life, unless they were a bully from another school who made the mistake of jumping the wrong kid for milk money. Granted, there is a strong chance that he decided to become Bruce Superman. If this is the case, he either is a laid back dude with a good sense of humor or he was forced to become Bruce Superman after his parents were shot down in an alley and rocketed out to an exploding planet. So he may be a witty swashbuckling crime fighter or a dark brooding vigilante. Or he might be an above average accountant. Whatever he does, I am sure he does it well and with honor for the American way.

Of course, being Bruce Superman has to have some downsides too. He probably had a hard time with his ID while trying to get into bars when he turned 21. And I'm sure some of his coworkers (under either identity) may tease him behind his back. And of course he has to hear the same comments over and over and have people stare at him with a stupid smile on their face when they first hear his name. Morons. You have not the right to judge Bruce Superman, just be thankful that he is in your presence! And of course, Bruce Superman has to have some arch enemies. Like that goon in shipping named Lex DrDoom. And his nosey landlord, Zod Magneto. Or his untrustworthy on again/off again ex girlfriend, Selina Mystique. Bruce Superman probably has a couple serious trust issues. He's been hurt before, emotionally and once thrown into a vat of acid sharks.

I am sorry that I had to broke my third rule, but it's quite obvious I did so out of respect to you, Bruce Superman. I hope your Mediterranean suite was as comfortable as your cave of solitude. Thank you for staying with us and we do truly hope you come back someday. Check out is at noon.

Pet Friendly

Highlight of the day:

A working seeing eye dog going ape shit when passing the front desk since he knew we had treats at the front desk. Not very professional, dawg.




Sorry. I punned.

If The Shoe Fits

Stereotyping is bad, right? Well, yes, I suppose it is, but sometimes people make it so very easy to lump them into a category. I didn't make up the stereotype and I am not the one enforcing it. But I guess someone did and some people just wear it well.

Anyway, we had a wedding tonight that fitted into a stereotype that is probably safe politically correct wise to make fun of. Hill billies! Everywhere. I heard a "YEE HAW!" and a "Git er done!" yelled within 10 seconds of each other.

One guy came by the front desk and asked if I was a California surfer dude. I said no, born and raised in Chicago. Then he told me he doesn't like Chicago weather and how in Texas he likes to ride around on his motorcycle while wearing shorts. Uhm, ok. And he asked me what we do when NASCAR comes to town.

You did it. You said NASCAR. You have been judged. It is out of my hands.