Woof.
Monday, 2 July 2007
Had the immense pleasure of working with a guard dog for part of the evening. Well, that's a bit of a stretch - he actually belonged to a guest but she left him down by the main gates with security while she went inside (dogs aren't allowed in the complex.) His name was Manny, and as you can see he came straight out of Turner and Hooch.
(Not me in the photo.)
He was a real softy but totally looked the picture. So much so, in fact, that when I walked him around the place and took him up to the prick who promised to come back with "tools" last night (who was back inside before I arrived for work), the guys' eyes widened to the point where he may have actually shat himself. He left soon after. I'd love to work with a pair of Manny's, possibly attached via chain leads to a metal bar that I held. Man, that would rule.
I made a massive fucking gaff tonight. We'd closed up and were all sitting around having a drink after the shift. One of the new agency guys - Jones - fancies himself as a bit of player and his current 'bit' is the rent-a-tart who works down the lower bar five days a week. He was all over her tonight, and along with everyone else (90 per cent of the people where I work smoke), they kept nipping outside for a cigarette. Well, one time, they didn't come back in with the others, and we started making the usual jokes. Bilbo hadn't come back into the club either, and so I suggested that maybe he was operating as a "fluffer" between them, which got a few laughs. Or that one or both of them had "strapped him on" and was using him as a dildo (he's a small guy, you'll remember.) Or, I said, picture this... Jones is shagging the tart from behind and Bilbo is licking his arse out.
"I can't see how," a voice piped up, "Given that I'm in here."
He'd only been in the fucking room the whole fucking time.
I was sitting at an odd 45-degree angle and he was to my left, and I hadn't seen him come back in. Christ almighty, I felt like such a cunt. Nobody else had seen him too (he is small, as I said), but that didn't really matter. I quickly changed the subject - an event which he noticed - but the look on the poor bastard's face. It didn't help that Jabba, who was oblivious to my fuck-up, then started making a bunch of cracks about his bald spot. Five more minutes and Bilbo would have strung himself up from the ceiling.
I apologised to him afterwards and he seemed to accept that it wasn't anything nasty on my part, but it's not like me to cock-up like this. I blame the Blackthorn. That shit's gonna be the death of me.
posted by Sheamus @ 3:00 am
