I hate the Federal Government and the State of California…

Chris and I both recently received our W-2's so last night I decided to do our taxes.
After a brief estimation of how much we OWED, yes, OWED, I stopped breathing.

Upon finishing my final calculations, I started coughing blood.

Three THOUSAND six HUNDRED eighty two dollars.

Yup, $3,682.00

With an amount like that, one would assume we haven't been paying anything all year, but let me tell you friends, we paid more than the value of my CAR in taxes last year. They want this on TOP of that amount. We have nothing to claim, no kids, no write off's so we pay top dollar.

That check will hurt my soul to write.

What do I get for my money!?!?

Excuse my language, but, DAMN taxes!!

So for all those paying taxes this year...

Bend over.

Oh the weekend...

Friday night the girls (Lindsey, Casey, Beth) and I went to see 'Catch and Release' while the boys saw 'Smoking Aces'. Our movie was fantastic - definitely beating out the significantly more violent boy choice. And ohhh the eye candy in that movie...

Saturday morning Chris and I attended our first golf class. Judges ruling? I suck. But with work, I hope to take down the sucky notch at least a little. The whole 'golf' stance/swing/etc. just feels awkward to me.

The house hunting...the first was an immediate no. If I could barely open a bedroom door from all the stuff inside (seriously, stuff no human should have), I'm just not interested! They told us they had been cleaning all day and I bit my tongue before I could interject and say, 'Exactly WHAT were you cleaning?' They looked hurt as we quickly escaped (before something fell on us and we were crushed) but I tried to smile apologetically as I ran past.


The second house was clearly photographed by someone who was a WIZ on Photoshop. The pictures made me think it could quite possibly be the house of our dreams but the reality was a smelly scary place. They evidently had a black cat, a fact they couldn't hide by all the black hair left behind. Apparently the cat preferred to use the carpet as a litter box. Eww.


The third house was our first jackpot of the day. Owned by Mister and Mrs. Clean, it was a sparkling white gem in a quiet neighborhood. Since it was most likely out of our price range, we dragged our feet and left.


The search continues this weekend.


Sunday after church Chris asked me why I don't sing loud enough to be heard. I explained that my father is totally tone deaf and I have a terrible fear of being awful and not knowing it. That's when he kindly said, 'Honey I've heard you sing before, you're great! I mean, you couldn't sing in front of the church or anything but definitely from the pews!' Gee thanks hon. Quiet singing it is! God can hear me.
After church we joined Lindsey and Johnny at the bridal bazaar. Why? First, because it's fun to hang out with them. Second, Hello!!?!? Free cake!

Trouble is brewing…

For those who wonder why my driving habits are so horrible… I give you this...

I was driving along the freeway minding my own business and obeying the speed limit laws to some degree when this jerk in a truck cuts me off. I gave him the friendly 'don't tick me off' headlight flash - everyone knows this is a step under a honk - which trust me... is as nice as I get. In response, he slams on his brakes. Now, if you know me at all, you know I don't take that. Yes, I'm constantly one gas petal away from getting my own deluxe set of metal bracelets from the Highway Patrol. So I may have, you know, in theory, turned on my brights for 7 miles and honked my horn for nearly that long. You know, theoretically of course.

I'm not going to say exactly what happened over the next 12.37 miles, but the stupid truck driver ended up off the side of the freeway precariously close to a guardrail - his hazard lights blinking as his own little 'white flag' of surrender.

Unfortunately I forgot to mention the fact I was driving a company vehicle.

Afraid it would somehow come to bite me in the butt; I told my dad what happened - including the whole chasing the driver off the freeway part. I literally braced the table waiting for the backlash.

Instead, I got.

'Nice one Bekah! Someone has to teach those guys a lesson! I'll bet he never does that again!'

As if somehow, I'm making the world a better place.

He then launched into his own story... making mine look like child's play. So next time you ask why I'm such a bad driver, I'll point straight to my family tree. Did they find a mean driver gene in the human genome research?

And that my friends... is why there is NO Christian fish on my car - though I am considering putting a 'Democrat for Life' sticker on my car. I could make Republicans out of every San Diegan!

Sorry... I think this is the longest note EVER. Apologies off the top. Thanks.


As the house hunt has officially begun, I have started to pick and choose my favorites for walk throughs on the weekend. Before work, during my lunch break, and after work I spend loads of time pouring through real estate websites. I have really begun to obsess... you just have no idea.

ANYWAY, I found an adorable house in a FANTASTIC neighborhood. It has a beautiful brand new pool that consumes most of the backyard space - and it's a GORGEOUS pool. Sparkling blue and everything. The inside of the house is lined with beautiful honey colored hardwood floors. Assuming I had found our dream house, I sent the info to Chris carefully including all the pictures, location, etc. His thoughts weren't quite what I expected.

"Wow, that's a lot of hardwood flooring" Was his short reply.

"Yeah, isn't it wonderful!!??!!" I couldn't hold back my excitement.

"Um. No. Hardwood floors are cold! And the pool in the ENTIRE backyard? No lawn?"

By then, I was getting kinda steamy. "We don't even own a lawnmower and you want a freaking lawn??!?! Didn't you play water polo? You should like pools!! And I'll have you know Mister, hardwood floors are more sanitary!"

Things went downhill from there.

I tend to get... 'passionate' about my beliefs. Some refer to it as 'anger', but I don't particularly like that word.

So I'm looking for a new husband. One who likes hardwood floors, likes pools, and has an allergic reaction to lawns.



Perhaps my anger, oops sorry, 'passion' was left over from an earlier conversation I had with our insurance agent. Chris was hit on his front end in a parking lot and the glorious retard who did it, didn't leave a note (Do they ever?!?!). I called our agent to discuss our coverage. She responded with a laugh and said, 'Of course you are covered! It's not like you went and hit your car yourself! No one does that!!'

That's about when I said, 'Um about that...'

The same weekend as the incident with the retard, Chris was moving furniture. Somehow the furniture broke and slammed into the side of Chris' truck, leaving a lovely dent.

I asked if that was also covered.

There was silence.

She finally seriously replied, 'We don't cover self inflicted damage.'

Grrr.

Money's a bit on the tight side with us with the whole house thing so if anyone knows a good repair place willing to do a two for one repair, let me know.

Eh, it's only funny if you live here.

Every street name is either in Spanish or Spanish related, and you're surprised when other areas don't have this.

You can determine the accuracy of someone's "i'm ghetto" claim by knowing their high school. For example, El Camino High School or Crawford High School

You see weather forcasts for four different climate zones in the same county, and aren't remotely surprised.

You've gone to Mt. Helix or Mt. Soledad in July and known you still need a jacket.

You've tailgated at Qualcomm Stadium, and for bonus points, also tailgated when it was Jack Murphy Stadium

You've been to the Wild Animal Park but can't remember the last time you went to the Zoo.

You've been on a field trip to see an Imax movie at the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center.

You still call it the Del Mar Fair.

You understand what May-Gray and June-Gloom is. ( you mean other places dont have this??)

A famous skateboarder/surfer/singer lives in your town.

There's a North County, a South County, and an East County but no Central County or West County?

"Mossy Nissan! Mossy Nissan! Mossy Nissan Moves You!"

You know what it means when two guys are walking in Hillcrest.

You know what it means when a girl in a short skirt is walking on El Cajon Blvd.

You've gotten stuck in the Horton Plaza parking structure traffic after a Padres game.

You know what "The Merge" is, and will plan your entire day around not being on it during rush hour(s).

You've been to Belmont Park and rode the Big Dipper.

You've taken the Coaster and laughed at people sitting in traffic on the 5.

You know the difference between Clairemont Mesa, Kearny Mesa, and Mira Mesa.

You can correctly pronounce Jaccumba, Tierrasanta, La Jolla, Rancho Penasquitos, San Ysidro, Otay Mesa, and El Cajon. Same goes for streets, too. Can you say... Cuyamaca? Jamacha?

You've ever gone to Sea World on a warm day and sat in the first few rows at the Shamu Show to get cooled off.

You've been delayed at the Border Checkpoints on the 5 and the 15.

There are more bands than people.

Your house doesn't have air conditioning.

You know it's San Diegan, not San Diegoan, or San Diegoite.

No matter what the weather is, there is always someone walking around in a t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops.

You live on, near or are surrounded by hills.

You hate tourists and their bad driving.

You have family and or friends that have moved to Arizona or Texas.

There are four distinct seasons: Nice, Nice, Nice, and A Little Chilly.

Your house is worth more than the GDP of some small countries.

You know what IB, OB, and PB stand for.

You used to, and sometimes still do ride the carousel at Seaport Village.

You or someone you know doesn't own pants, and have a neighbor who doesn't seem to own a shirt.

Your high school had a surf team.

You know what Santa Ana's are, and that they have literally nothing to do with the city of Santa Ana.

You know what a California burrito is.

You never, under any circumstances call it anything other than "the Gaslamp."

You don't consider L.A. as part of SoCal.

You have ever eaten a REAL Fish Taco.

When you hear "Hells Bells" by ACDC, you get chills running down your spine.

In elementary school, you were forced to down countless "Duck and Cover" earthquake drills.

Your mother ever told you "Don't go in the water after it rains...you will get sick from the 'runoff'".

You hear "Ryan Leaf" and immediately look for someone near to throw something at.

Your childhood dream was to become a Dolphin Trainer at Sea World.

You know countless guys under 5'9'' tall that own huge lifted trucks to account for their shortcomings.

Winter is "Desert Season" for you. Summer is "Fire Season" for you.

You own a surfboard, a dirtbike, a skateboard, a snowboard, and can ride them (well) on the same day.

Blink 182 wrote the anthem to your childhood.

The year is filled with more raging wildfires more often than cloudy days.

You recognize the smell of Julian Apple Pie.

When it rains, you know by experience that everyone else on the road will freak out and slow down to a ridiculous speed and piss you off.

You spell country, "K-S-O-N"

You know the "Golden Triangle" is NOT a gay-bar.

You know the difference between the Cox Arena and the Sports Arena (and you REFUSE to call it the iPayOne Center) and you remember when the Q was the Murph

There are more taco-shops than there are Starbucks.

You go to Mexico if only to buy tacos and cheap sunglasses.

You know what towns are a part of the ghetto list, and agree with it as follows: El Cajon, Chula Vista, National City, Sweetwater, Otay Mesa, Normal Heights, Escondido, Vista , Oceanside.

The name of your favorite Mexican resturant ends with "-berto's"