Little Moby Homemaker: Domestic God

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Parolee Party

Moby Homemaker

I am an out of work "At Home Dad" who has risen from the ashes like an overweight, over worked, under paid phoenix to become a "Domestic God"

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My blatant distaste and hatred of others, particularly for those of the hillrod persuasion, was reaffirmed last night/this morning at the  Shorewood Shores Resort in Lake Wazupemonte, WI.  See, I was up there doing some job interviewing that involved an overnight stay.  Yes, this Domestic God may actually someday find a way out of his personal hell at home to the fruitful bounty of the working world!  But, as anyone knows (and Marilyn Manson sang), it's a long, hard road out of hell.  Apparently, that trip passes directly through the Sherwood Shores Resort.

During the 1950's and 60's Shorewood Shores was the preeminent summer resort getaway for the Chicago and Milwaukee elite.  Think "Dirty Dancing', just with lots of beer and cheese.  Unfortunately, for various reason, the years have not been good to the Shores and the resort has lost much of its luster.  So now, the Shorewood Shores has been relegated to the preeminent resort spot to house galas for the recently paroled.

After a nightmare check-in at the front desk, which involved my reservations being lost and a difficulty for the staff to "find an open room" (in a place that couldn't have been 25% full), I dropped my belongings off at my room and made my way to the nearest local neighborhood restaurant/bar.  Mind you, I called this "on site" establishment  a "local neighborhood" one because it took only about 12 f'ing minutes to walk there from my room!

I immediately knew I was in for a hellacious go of it when I found it that it was "Karaoke Nite" at "Loopey's By Da Lake Bar & Grill".  But, I had no other nearby dining choice, so I ordered a $40 8 oz strip steak, an $8 local brew and a $5 appetizer.  Of course, being in Wisconsin I would be remiss if I didn't order the official state appetizer--cheese curds!  Damn, I love fried cheese! While I dined on my overpriced lakeside meal, I was forced to watch in horror as a large group of rowdy hillrods, dressed in their very finest wife beaters and visible tattoos, commandeer Loopey's karaoke stage to belt out hillbilly meth head anthems by Nickelback and Evanescence.  One rough-looking dude after rough-looking bitch left it all on that stage cranking out shitty tunes and shrieking "shout out" respect to their boy, Coy--who apparently "just got sprung!".

Undoubtedly, the most heartfelt moment of this entertainment debacle occurred when Coy's mother asked her recently paroled son to join her on the stage for a stirring and barely coherent rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man".  Following the duet, Coy's mother, who was visibly moved to tears by the on stage classic rock reunion, was able to top even that moment by doing several shots of Jack Daniel's with her convict son before an adoring crowd of what looked to me as real life gypsies, tramps & theives...and meth heads.

This was quite a scene, and I was made to lay witness to it as I ever so quickly gobbled up my over priced dinner.  Noticing that this was not what I would consider a group of "happy drunks", I got the hell out of Loopey's and headed back to my quarters---quarters that eerily resembled something out of "The Shining".  After a couple of hours, I finally dozed off to sleep, only to be awoken by a pounding on my hotel room door.  Normally, I would have never responded, but I heard what sounded like several giggling women outside.  Was this the Penthouse Forum fantasy that I had read about as a teenage boy incarnate??!!

I opened the door to find three of the trashiest meth addicted tramps I have ever laid eyes on.  If this were indeed the Penthouse fantasy--I wanted out!  Luckily, the  rough and tumble broads quickly got it through their drug addled brains that they were at the wrong destination.  They headed up a nearby flight of stairs, of course never once offering any sort of apology for waking my old, tired bones up.

About two minutes later, I realized what the confusion was.  These dumb bitches meant to go to the room located directly above mine for an apparent Parolee After Party.  From the sounds of it, a Parolee After Party was just what I thought that it might be... a bunch of people crammed into a small hotel room cussing and screaming, some sing alongs, a couple of fights and what I consider an air of "general carrying on".

However, the pinnacle of this display occurred at approximately 3:45am.  This is the moment when I heard some douche bag hillbilly deluxe fuckhead lean over the upstairs balcony and begin the loudest human wretching I have ever heard!  His projectile vomiting spew onto my concrete patio below at an alarming and near inhuman rate.  Ahh, the soothing sound of prick puke violently hitting the hard pavement  is quite a noise to sleep to!  I see some big money in the relaxation cd market...

That was the final fucking straw.  I knew that I could not confront these nasty mother fuckers on my own.  Frankly, they'd have killed me!  And judging from my check-in experience, I knew the people at the Front Desk would be of absolutely NO assistance.  So, I felt as if I had no choice but to do the most evil thing possible that I could to the cast of "Hee Haw: Meth Edition" above me.  I called Mr. Johnny Law.  That's right, the cops!  At about 4:15am the authorities stampeded in like stormtroopers and escorted several of the ne'er-do-well party guests off of the  Shorewood Shores premises-in cuffs!  My sincere prayer is that the "Parolee of the Hour" and his crew will not be eligible for another celebration for at least 2-3 years.  This morning, Coy learned his lesson the hard way--you don't fuck with this Domestic God's slumber!

If only I were interviewing for a prison guard or parole officer job this morning...



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1 Comment

Daisy said:

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Oh my golly! What an ordeal, Moby! YIKES! I'm glad law enforcement came in to clear out the riff-raff. I hope the interview went well, at least. Good luck on getting the job!

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