Shit and Get Off the Pot...And When You Do, Come Down to the Front Desk Your Damn Self, Shall We Say, to Clear the Air...

A lot of times at the hotel, parents are too damn lazy to peel their asses off the couch to come down to the front desk and ask a question. Instead they send their personal assitant/s. Er, child/ren.

It's kind of a pain in the ass to explain to an eight-year-old how to hook up to the wireless internet. And it becomes a very intricate game of 'telephone' when said children return to their parents to explain the process.

Though, as they say, every cloud has a silver lining.

Kid: Hi!

Zube: Hi, what can I do for you?

Kid: Well, my Mommy wanted me to come down here and tell you that the toilet is clogged. But she didn't want me to tell you she did it.

Zube: *Stifling a smile* We'll send someone over to help you out with that.

Kid: Thanks! *whispering* But she did do it!

Zube: I gathered.

Lesson to lazy ass parents: If you're guilty of plugging up the shitter, don't expect your kid to cover for you (and also, again with the lazy ass, there is a PLUNGER in your bathroom right next to the toilet...the one YOU clogged). I do, however, appreciate your shameless offer to be the highlight of my otherwise fairly mundane day.