Ho Jo, or Yo Ho (as in Yo Ho is waiting - or Stanky Johnson) was a hovel. We decided not to stay there before we even got inside. It was unanimous. I later insisted on getting a disposable camera to capture the magic in case anyone at work had anything to say about us cancelling our reservations. I'll post those and one of the outhouse as soon as they're developed and scanned. Outside, the parking lot was dug up in preparation for repaving, the balcony was falling down (ok, just the facade, but still), rotting wood was everywhere, and the area just looked skanky.

We went inside to cancel our reservations, and I looked for a restroom. I didn't see one in the tiny lobby, so I asked. "Oh, you go behind the coffee machine." Uh huh. Luckily none of us were obese or even overweight, or we'd have not fit behind there and had to squat outside. The bathroom looked clean, but had one of those mystery smells. You couldn't tell where it was coming from or what it was. It was so bad I tried to hold my breath the whole time. No such luck. Now, if the lobby bathroom is this bad, what must the rooms be like?

The guy at the desk tried to give Crandall a hard time about the cancellations and said, "I'll have to speak to my manager." Crandall said, "Speak to whoever you have to, we're cancelling." We just told them that someone was holding rooms for us, which wasn't true. I left a comment on the conference evaluation form about it, and will probably email the company.

We then went to Courtyard Marriott, which was sold out. They sent us to Microtel, which was nice enough, but only had rooms for Wednesday night. We didn't want to hunt for another hotel the next day. We then went to the Hampton Inn, which was nice (like the one in Charleston was). They were sold out, and said that everyone was sold out. I said, "Oh no, there's four rooms at the Ho Jo if anybody wants them, 'cause we don't." From there we went to the hotel farthest from the conference venue, Suburban Lodge. Luckily there were four rooms, though 3 were doubles and one was a handicap access room. It was clean, quiet, and available. After the Ho Jo, our expectations had lowered substantially.

The conference itself was just about too dull to mention. It was a bunch of "Give yourselves a hand" and "I'd like to welcome you" garbage. Thank gods for Diet Coke and peanut M&Ms. I won't bore you further.

I was in my pajamas until around 1:30 on Saturday. I was incredibly tired due to lack of sleep this week. Wednesday night was particularly bad. Thursday night I had such a bad headache that my head was spinning. Well, not literally. The same headache was back in full force Saturday. The aspirin only knocked the edge off of it.

Jeff says I didn't sleep in Athens because I was paranoid. I was a bit on edge from having a room with an exterior door. It was next to the highway and I was alone, and I still have the trial in the back of my head. Actually, the insomnia had started the previous Sunday. I had been sleeping good for a month or two, then started a bad period Sunday night. That's usually how it goes lately. It's good for a month or two, then a week or two of bad.

We went to the mall Saturday night. We looked all over for a pocket watch for Jeff's dad. He needs one that clips to the belt instead of the belt loop, and it needs to be easy to read. We finally just got one at Sears and will keep the receipt in case he doesn't like it.

Jeff also got me an early christmas gift - Hugo Boss Deep Red perfume. That shit smells goooooood! I happened to get a sample in a Sephora catalog and loved it. It's rare that I smell a perfume and have to have it. The last one was Angel. Luckily Deep Red was not as expensive, but close.

Dull dull dull. OK, that's it. Hopefully the pictures will be up here soon. I just hope the stankosity comes through on film.

Exchange at the mall Saturday night: (Yes, I'm stealing from Weetabix's repertoire.)

As we were sitting eating dinner (red beans & rice, cornbread and collard greens...mmmmm) -

Jeff: There goes a hootchie.

Me: Hootchie? *looks up to see a girl wearing high heel thigh high boots and a skin-tight miniskirt* Oh. Wait a minute, you try to get me to dress like that!

Jeff: Yep.

Me: So are you going to call me a hootchie if I dress like that?

Jeff: Yep, I'll say, "Come here, hootchie."

He's really quite funny sometimes.