Thursday, October 27, 2005

Inside Paris Hilton

OK so I'm currently inside the business section of the Paris Hilton, ok well the Hilton by the airport near Paris, not quite in the heart of gay paris, but I I'm not staying in this palatial place, I'm staying at the expensive and unrealiable IBIS accross the street, who have not been able to get their fucken internet up all day. So I came accross the street and charmed the front desk lady into letting me use their internet of course i had to buy a card, but I don't mind. I have bigger fish to fry, like the cow at the front desk of the IBIS 2 star cock-knocking hotel I'm at.--hold the phone-- some american guest here at the Hilton, or Funk and Wagner as I like to call it asked if I work here and if I could help her, I'm wearing a nice shirt for a change then the ones that smell of cheap beer, smoke and cum for all I know, once again I digress...I told her "no" but I should have said "yes" and just made shit up: "oh yes the pool, it is on the 16th floor, just knock on door 1607 and an attendant will open for you." Where was I? I have a fever, and feel like shit so I am out of it at the moment, in a swanky hotel, deciding if I should risk my cold and venture into Paris an hour a way or chill at the old Communist block ibis and pack for my flight. So I arrive at this hotel, and I thought it would be 59 Euros a night like on the website but no its 93 Euros, but she told me 10 minutes away there was another glorious IBIS, for 49 Euros and it was one stop on the train from the airport and I'm like "fuck yeah, I don't have to be attached to the airport, just nearby is good for me, my flight is not an early morning flight." I get to this fucken place and I have to go under a tunnel, accross a convention centre, trapeze a parking lot, through a little dirt pass to get to this place and I'm like no fucken way am I going to drag my tired ass, 2 valises accross fucken France for this shit and piss place. So I cancel my reservation and ask him to book it at the first IBIS, and back I go, shame I know, but lesson learned, if you are attached to the hotel fucken stay there. He makes a reservation I ask the bastard twice for a print out and he says I dont need it, and i'm like can I at least have a confirmation number, he relunctantly barks it out in French at me.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Marco bye bye come beck to Italy soon!!!!! translate . non farti piĆ¹ vedere stronzo manco chiami quando parti MERDA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

12:36 p.m.  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Listed on BlogsCanada Listed on Blogwise Blogarama - The Blog Directory
Search Popdex: