It’s time for a housing update.
I’m not a happy girl.
We have not heard from the bank that owns the foreclosed home we put an offer on as of yet. It would appear as if they are drawing this out as long as possible so they can get the best offer. I can’t say I blame them… I just don’t personally feel they are making the best decision because everyone knows the best decision is ME!!
So I’m doing what I do best… retaliation! I’m throwing US Bank the bird and moving on. Take that!!
Umm, but US Bank, darling, if you are reading this, please get back to us soon because if you do, I promise I’ll be a good girl and buy the house.
I passed through a neighborhood last night that was La Mesa's equivalent to Mt. Helix. Some million dollar homes and some seriously crappy homes all scrunched up together. The better the view, the nicer the house. I drove around to find the house I saw on the internet and immediately knew which one it was before I spotted the bright Realtor sign. Ugliest one on the street? Yep, in our price range! I pulled up and spotted two matching brown 1988ish Ford Tempo’s in the drive. Directly across the street, parked in front of what can only be described as a mansion, were twin silver Mercedes. Oh sorry, I don’t think Mercedes makes the color ‘silver’, it’s probably ‘Titanium’, ‘Platinum’, or ‘Guetenshlagger’ which translates to “sucks to be poor but we wouldn’t know” in German.
All I could think was, my ‘Galaxy Gray Mica’ Mazda 3 would love to make friends with those Mercedes.
After my ‘lust fest’ with the neighborhood, I drove over to Vernski’s house. I used to work with him at my last job but despite us no longer being co-workers, he still has me house-sit whenever he goes on vacation. I guess some people find boring, non-partying, non-druggie people to be attractive house sitters – that and he knows I’m beyond afraid of hurting his brilliant white house so I generally quarantine myself to the kitchen.
Vernski went through the usual home care instructions and asked how the house hunting was going. I told him about our loan problems because of Chris’ damaged credit (thanks to those who did it to him!!) and how we had to put everything in my name causing our interest rate to go up. That’s when he suggested that we find a private investor who understood our situation. Yeah, like I’m friends with people who can drop a couple hundred grand… wait… Verski has a couple hundred grand. I almost asked him to be our slum lord but if anyone is going to be the lord of my slum, it’ll be me… but if he were to suddenly feel generous, I wouldn’t complain.
When will this be over!?!?!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
I’m on my sixth cup of coffee… and I hate coffee…
Long one… ignore unless infinitely bored.
OK, so I’m not drinking coffee. I’m drinking ‘All Natural’ Zip Fizz. Containing 41,667% of your daily allowance of B12, it’s about as ‘natural’ as a face lift or an artificial leg.
It’s supposed to be mixed with 20 ounces of water. I mix it with two ounces and take it like a shot. I can imagine this is what Listerine tastes like if I were to drink it.
It doesn’t energize me… it simply brings me to ‘functional’. The stuff barely counteracts last night’s sleeping pills.
Oh, did I forget to mention those? I haven’t slept in 4 days. I wake up thinking, ‘Should I re-do the budget?’, ‘Did I call GMAC?’, ‘Did we offer too much?’, ‘Did we offer too little?’, and most important, ‘When is Sanjaya going to be booted from American Idol because really, I’m losing faith in the American public’.
I took three pills last night and snuggled in bed looking for a deep slumber. 1 AM, 2AM, and 3AM all came and went as I fretted sleeplessly. The pills eventually kicked in… shortly after my alarm clock chimed. The clock started to laugh at me so I smashed it with my boot. Perhaps it was a bit harsh but I swear on everything holy it was saying ‘Neener Neener Neener!! Ha Ha you have to get up!!’ instead of ‘Beep Beep Beep’ like it was supposed to.
I’m in a walking sleep state. The Zip Fizz keeps my tongue from sticking to the side of my mouth. I sound slightly less like a severe stroke victim but slightly more like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman.
The past couple of days have been an insane roller coaster ride.
Chris has been handling it well. He stays just out of arms reach so he doesn’t get hurt and if I ‘happen’ to throw something he can duck. I haven’t thrown anything… that hit him anyway. Darn those reflexes huh?
Yesterday AOL had a poll with the question, ‘Who will you vote for in the next presidential election?’ with the choices, ‘Republicans’, ‘Democrats’ and the one I triple Rainman clicked on, ‘Don’t know, Don’t care’.
Something is wrong with this picture people, something is s-s-s-s-seriously wrong.
OK, so I’m not drinking coffee. I’m drinking ‘All Natural’ Zip Fizz. Containing 41,667% of your daily allowance of B12, it’s about as ‘natural’ as a face lift or an artificial leg.
It’s supposed to be mixed with 20 ounces of water. I mix it with two ounces and take it like a shot. I can imagine this is what Listerine tastes like if I were to drink it.
It doesn’t energize me… it simply brings me to ‘functional’. The stuff barely counteracts last night’s sleeping pills.
Oh, did I forget to mention those? I haven’t slept in 4 days. I wake up thinking, ‘Should I re-do the budget?’, ‘Did I call GMAC?’, ‘Did we offer too much?’, ‘Did we offer too little?’, and most important, ‘When is Sanjaya going to be booted from American Idol because really, I’m losing faith in the American public’.
I took three pills last night and snuggled in bed looking for a deep slumber. 1 AM, 2AM, and 3AM all came and went as I fretted sleeplessly. The pills eventually kicked in… shortly after my alarm clock chimed. The clock started to laugh at me so I smashed it with my boot. Perhaps it was a bit harsh but I swear on everything holy it was saying ‘Neener Neener Neener!! Ha Ha you have to get up!!’ instead of ‘Beep Beep Beep’ like it was supposed to.
I’m in a walking sleep state. The Zip Fizz keeps my tongue from sticking to the side of my mouth. I sound slightly less like a severe stroke victim but slightly more like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman.
The past couple of days have been an insane roller coaster ride.
Chris has been handling it well. He stays just out of arms reach so he doesn’t get hurt and if I ‘happen’ to throw something he can duck. I haven’t thrown anything… that hit him anyway. Darn those reflexes huh?
Yesterday AOL had a poll with the question, ‘Who will you vote for in the next presidential election?’ with the choices, ‘Republicans’, ‘Democrats’ and the one I triple Rainman clicked on, ‘Don’t know, Don’t care’.
Something is wrong with this picture people, something is s-s-s-s-seriously wrong.
It would take too long to write what’s happening but the short of it is - we still don’t have any answers.
Sing with me now, ‘Does that make me craaaaaazy? Does that make me craaaaazy?’
Monday, March 19, 2007
I’ve been biting my nails for 3 hours now…
This weekend we looked at houses again. Our first stop was a house at the end of a cul-de-sac. It’s on nearly a half an acre and the house itself is 1,400 sq. ft. The house is in desperate need of a tidy housekeeper. There was…fecal matter… in the toilet and food in the sink. The floors didn’t need cleaning as much as they needed replacement. The living and dining rooms are covered floor to ceiling in faux wood paneling. Don’t be jealous, it’s super hot. There was a pool… somewhere buried under the waist high weeds. The dark shadows at the bottom made me wonder if somehow, the previous owners dropped a body (or two) in there. The house comes with a duck. He was swimming happily in the swamp – I mean – pool. The exterior was recently re-stuccoed… by a fifth grader… and not one of the smart ones from the TV show. We’d probably have to have it re-done.
The only thing younger than 10 years old at this house is a bent up Wal-Mart gazebo in the backyard – and it probably doesn’t come with the house.
I’m not going to lie…
It wasn’t my first choice for the home I’ll live in for at least the next 10 years -
But Chris practically screamed with excitement at the thought of a ‘fixer upper’.
There was another couple looking at the home with us. As we left, the gentleman said, ‘That house was great! Nothing a nuclear disaster couldn’t fix!’
Why didn’t I marry that guy?
We looked at 7 houses but you can still probably guess which one we put an offer on.
I guess I should buy some duck food.
Any name suggestions?
'Ducky'?
If we get the house…
No one is allowed to come over until the inside is painted and cleaned. Oh and the pool can no longer look like a vat of leprechaun puke.
The only thing younger than 10 years old at this house is a bent up Wal-Mart gazebo in the backyard – and it probably doesn’t come with the house.
I’m not going to lie…
It wasn’t my first choice for the home I’ll live in for at least the next 10 years -
But Chris practically screamed with excitement at the thought of a ‘fixer upper’.
There was another couple looking at the home with us. As we left, the gentleman said, ‘That house was great! Nothing a nuclear disaster couldn’t fix!’
Why didn’t I marry that guy?
We looked at 7 houses but you can still probably guess which one we put an offer on.
I guess I should buy some duck food.
Any name suggestions?
'Ducky'?
If we get the house…
No one is allowed to come over until the inside is painted and cleaned. Oh and the pool can no longer look like a vat of leprechaun puke.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
But I’m trying to be a good wife!!
The only phrase more deadly to marriage than, ‘Honey are you OK?’ is…
‘Sweetheart, you’ll never believe how much I saved while shopping today.’
I literally saw Chris’ eyes glaze as they rolled backward after I uttered those damning words.
I bought some beautiful deep red towels yesterday (a smokin’ sale at Target – and I mean SMOKIN’) because I want to redo the colors in our bathroom. What bathroom? The one we WILL have… someday. I think.
Try explaining the necessity of the aforementioned towels to a man who owns nearly 20 – the same man who doesn’t own a home to put them in.
‘But they aren’t THESE towels’ I whined (half pleading so I wouldn’t have to return them – returning towels is such a pain in the bum).
He threw in the required, ‘Why do I work so hard just so you can spend money on things we don’t need?’ and ‘We don’t even OWN A HOUSE!!’ before kissing me on the forehead and conceding.
Why the concession? I talked to him smack in the middle of the ESPN report. Mamma didn’t raise a fool.
Man I’m going to miss cable. How will I ever buy anything!?
The North has declared war on the South… of my face that is. I’m 26. There is no denying that I’m starting to show my age. My eyes are starting to crinkle at the corners…even when I’m not smiling. Those annoying fine lines on my forehead just never take a break.
But…
Nothing drives me more insane than the lower part of my face resembling a pubescent teenager. Aren’t you supposed to stop breaking out when you’re, like, 16!!??
The vengeful South is reacting to the aging North in an effort prove it’s still young. It wants to show it’s still a MILF despite its age. (‘Membrane I’d Like to Flaunt’ – get your minds out of the gutter!!)
What person watches Proactiv AND Botox commercials with equal interest?!?!?
Perhaps I can convince Chris that Botox is a requirement.
… but I might have to wait until the Super Bowl.
In the mean time… I still have Photoshop.
‘Sweetheart, you’ll never believe how much I saved while shopping today.’
I literally saw Chris’ eyes glaze as they rolled backward after I uttered those damning words.
I bought some beautiful deep red towels yesterday (a smokin’ sale at Target – and I mean SMOKIN’) because I want to redo the colors in our bathroom. What bathroom? The one we WILL have… someday. I think.
Try explaining the necessity of the aforementioned towels to a man who owns nearly 20 – the same man who doesn’t own a home to put them in.
‘But they aren’t THESE towels’ I whined (half pleading so I wouldn’t have to return them – returning towels is such a pain in the bum).
He threw in the required, ‘Why do I work so hard just so you can spend money on things we don’t need?’ and ‘We don’t even OWN A HOUSE!!’ before kissing me on the forehead and conceding.
Why the concession? I talked to him smack in the middle of the ESPN report. Mamma didn’t raise a fool.
Man I’m going to miss cable. How will I ever buy anything!?
The North has declared war on the South… of my face that is. I’m 26. There is no denying that I’m starting to show my age. My eyes are starting to crinkle at the corners…even when I’m not smiling. Those annoying fine lines on my forehead just never take a break.
But…
Nothing drives me more insane than the lower part of my face resembling a pubescent teenager. Aren’t you supposed to stop breaking out when you’re, like, 16!!??
The vengeful South is reacting to the aging North in an effort prove it’s still young. It wants to show it’s still a MILF despite its age. (‘Membrane I’d Like to Flaunt’ – get your minds out of the gutter!!)
What person watches Proactiv AND Botox commercials with equal interest?!?!?
Perhaps I can convince Chris that Botox is a requirement.
… but I might have to wait until the Super Bowl.
In the mean time… I still have Photoshop.
Friday, March 9, 2007
My standards… they are a changin’…
This recent loss of my ‘dream’ home has changed my perspective. When I first started this search, my standards were high. Only the best neighborhoods with the best construction were acceptable.
Then, when house after house shot off the market (from those who made offers within days of the house being listed) leaving me empty handed, I realized changes had to be made for me to survive.
Now I look and say, ‘Hmm. Four walls? Check. Roof? Kinda. Check. Neighbors? No gun racks or apparent drug dealers. Check.’
At this stage I feel like a 45 year old looking for a date. The options are few and rejections frequent.
You know the feeling.
It’s like you’ve been rejected by every cute boy in school because you just aren’t appealing enough. Someone other girl was cuter… richer … and faster at telling the boy she liked him.
Well, I’ve been rejected by every San Diego homeowner… darn those cute girls who tell the boy they like him faster and get the house *cough* I mean, the date.
So I’m reaching. I’m a 45 year old. Reaching.
Then, when house after house shot off the market (from those who made offers within days of the house being listed) leaving me empty handed, I realized changes had to be made for me to survive.
Now I look and say, ‘Hmm. Four walls? Check. Roof? Kinda. Check. Neighbors? No gun racks or apparent drug dealers. Check.’
At this stage I feel like a 45 year old looking for a date. The options are few and rejections frequent.
You know the feeling.
It’s like you’ve been rejected by every cute boy in school because you just aren’t appealing enough. Someone other girl was cuter… richer … and faster at telling the boy she liked him.
Well, I’ve been rejected by every San Diego homeowner… darn those cute girls who tell the boy they like him faster and get the house *cough* I mean, the date.
So I’m reaching. I’m a 45 year old. Reaching.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
And they countered…
We received a counter offer from the homeowner and the bank that happens to have control of their home. Let me preface the following with this statement:
We offered the homeowners (and the bank) what they were asking. We didn’t ask for a deal. We didn’t make them ‘bend over’. We just said, ‘Hey, that number sounds kinda fair, we’ll go for it.’
Sounds reasonable right?!?!
Their counter offer? WAS MORE THAN THE ASKING PRICE!
… and coincidentally 40 GRAND MORE than we offered.
Listen Mister Banker, if you want more for the house… ASK MORE FOR THE HOUSE. Don’t waste my time!!!
And worse, the house has been sitting vacant for 3 months and we were the FIRST offer! You’d think they’d be excited at the interest but nooooo.
Frankly I’m not sure what kind of high potency ganja these dudes are smoking… but it must be the good stuff. Did they have too many ‘special’ brownies? Are they celebrating St. Patty’s Day early and took a double shot before replying?
Needless to say, we’re wiping our hands clean of their silliness. I have to admit, I’m more than a little bummed. So if I’m a little weepy today… just excuse me.
Back to square one folks.
We offered the homeowners (and the bank) what they were asking. We didn’t ask for a deal. We didn’t make them ‘bend over’. We just said, ‘Hey, that number sounds kinda fair, we’ll go for it.’
Sounds reasonable right?!?!
Their counter offer? WAS MORE THAN THE ASKING PRICE!
… and coincidentally 40 GRAND MORE than we offered.
Listen Mister Banker, if you want more for the house… ASK MORE FOR THE HOUSE. Don’t waste my time!!!
And worse, the house has been sitting vacant for 3 months and we were the FIRST offer! You’d think they’d be excited at the interest but nooooo.
Frankly I’m not sure what kind of high potency ganja these dudes are smoking… but it must be the good stuff. Did they have too many ‘special’ brownies? Are they celebrating St. Patty’s Day early and took a double shot before replying?
Needless to say, we’re wiping our hands clean of their silliness. I have to admit, I’m more than a little bummed. So if I’m a little weepy today… just excuse me.
Back to square one folks.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
And it begins…
We put an offer on the El Cajon house this morning. It’s a bit… stressful.
I washed my hands this morning and checked my reflection in the mirror. Yup. I did it again. Several bright red broken blood vessels in my eye glowed back at me. I look like a druggie. Boo.
But for those who are concerned, there is no need to worry. I am HEAVILY medicated. I’ve got two bags of doctor prescribed Cadbury eggs in the top drawer of my desk.
Mom’s gone on vacation which means I’m visiting a lot of my friends these days. Hello, Carl’s Jr., Alpine Taco Shop, and Salsa. Hey! I never said my friends were actual people!
It's not that I can't cook for myself... I just... can't cook for myself.
Monday, March 5, 2007
I still have my hair… right now anyway.
Oh what a weekend. We searched far and wide for the perfect home… or perfect enough for us anyway. In our price range, perfect is a LONG way away. Heck, we’ve barely made it to habitable.
Friday night we looked at 3 houses. A synopsis…
House #1 – Holes in the walls. Exposed drywall with no texture. Plywood kitchen. Filthy walls, floors, and ceilings. Unfinished ceilings. Florescent blue paint in the living room. Weeds creating a jungle scene in the yard.
House #2 – Smelled so severely of dog feces I had trouble keeping my dinner down.
House #3 – An adorable corner lot, cute house in a great part of town.
I thought the winner would be easy. Option 3 right?
Well, marry Mr. Fix-It and you marry his visions of greatness. He LOVED house #1. He could practically hear the saw blades spinning. He would walk around saying, ‘Do you think this wall is a supporting wall because I think I could just knock the thing out’, and ‘All I need is a weed wacker.’ All I could think was, ‘All I need is a wrecking ball and a dumpster’, and ‘This place looks great. At night. With all the lights off. After you’ve had a few.’
Needless to say, I don’t see his vision – but I’m along for the ride. He’s trying to work out some ideas with the bank to get some cash … but I’m secretly praying it won’t work out.
Oh and just because my luck is so hot right now… Option 3 sold…this morning… along with all my hopes and dreams for happiness.
So we are back to the El Cajon house with the pool – which happens to be my personal favorite. Why? It should be about location, quality, blah, blah, blah but the real reason I’m dying to have it… matches our Tiki theme.
I’m off to eat some Cadbury Eggs for lunch.
Friday night we looked at 3 houses. A synopsis…
House #1 – Holes in the walls. Exposed drywall with no texture. Plywood kitchen. Filthy walls, floors, and ceilings. Unfinished ceilings. Florescent blue paint in the living room. Weeds creating a jungle scene in the yard.
House #2 – Smelled so severely of dog feces I had trouble keeping my dinner down.
House #3 – An adorable corner lot, cute house in a great part of town.
I thought the winner would be easy. Option 3 right?
Well, marry Mr. Fix-It and you marry his visions of greatness. He LOVED house #1. He could practically hear the saw blades spinning. He would walk around saying, ‘Do you think this wall is a supporting wall because I think I could just knock the thing out’, and ‘All I need is a weed wacker.’ All I could think was, ‘All I need is a wrecking ball and a dumpster’, and ‘This place looks great. At night. With all the lights off. After you’ve had a few.’
Needless to say, I don’t see his vision – but I’m along for the ride. He’s trying to work out some ideas with the bank to get some cash … but I’m secretly praying it won’t work out.
Oh and just because my luck is so hot right now… Option 3 sold…this morning… along with all my hopes and dreams for happiness.
So we are back to the El Cajon house with the pool – which happens to be my personal favorite. Why? It should be about location, quality, blah, blah, blah but the real reason I’m dying to have it… matches our Tiki theme.
I’m off to eat some Cadbury Eggs for lunch.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Things are simply… out of control.
Sorry for the long space between updates – I’ve been a bit busy as of late. Lizard has been in town so I find myself spending less time at the office, and more time hanging out. It may be the only time I get to see them this year so I’m trying to squish in every minute.
My stress level has been a bit on the high side. That may be due to the booming metronome type beating in my ears saying, ‘Higher interest rates, taxes,100%’ over and over again. I can imagine this is what menopause feels like to those who haven’t had children. It’s a suffocating, life consuming thought. Our taxes are due April 17th but we have to have the cash in our account during escrow so we really have to buy quickly before the cash is gone. To add more straw to this camels back, banks are phasing out 100% financing – and last time I checked, we don’t have 80+ grand for the 20% down. Chris has been working weekends so time is tough to come by.
Tick tock screamed the clock.
I have a problem I would like to bring to light… I’m addicted to books. I rent books on CD from the library and listen to hours and hours of the classics on my ipod. Well, I’m not sure if my most recent ‘Historical Romance’ was a ‘classic’ per se, but it was a good book. I didn’t realize this was a problem until I was in the middle of payroll and found my eyes welling with giant tears while I shouted, ‘Why did Richard have to die?!? How will Florentina go on?!?!’ Think that’s bad? Oh it gets worse. I found myself interjecting into a conversation saying, ‘I had a friend who attended Radcliff. She met JFK’… umm, now I’m addressing fictional characters as close friends?!?
I need a life.
Easter is fast approaching and that can only mean one thing…Cadbury chocolate eggs. I love them and I hate them. Love because I could eat an entire delicious bag of chocolate goodness in a day… hate because that bag has nearly 100 grams of fat. Perhaps I could learn all the lyrics to ‘I Like Big Butts’. It will be applicable to me shortly.
Speaking of big butts, Lizard, Colegate and I went shopping the other day. Cole has been shedding a worrisome amount of weight and is teetering and the fringe of weighing less than me. Problem? She’s 2” taller. As we shopped in Buckle, the girls constantly complained from the dressing room, ‘Do you have a SMALLER size?’. I stood outside with the kids and stared at my reflection in the mirror thinking… ‘When did I turn into the chubby sister?!?!’ I’ve always been the smallest or the second smallest!! Even worse, since when do my sisters make all 124 pounds of me LOOK chubby in comparison?!?!
So am I looking into laying off the Cadbury Eggs for the season?
Heck no! (I say as I’m drinking my Super Big Gulp from 7-11) I’m looking into force feeding the Olsen twinesque sisters of mine cheeseburgers. Perhaps I can tell Cole they are ‘South Beach Diet’ approved.
My stress level has been a bit on the high side. That may be due to the booming metronome type beating in my ears saying, ‘Higher interest rates, taxes,100%’ over and over again. I can imagine this is what menopause feels like to those who haven’t had children. It’s a suffocating, life consuming thought. Our taxes are due April 17th but we have to have the cash in our account during escrow so we really have to buy quickly before the cash is gone. To add more straw to this camels back, banks are phasing out 100% financing – and last time I checked, we don’t have 80+ grand for the 20% down. Chris has been working weekends so time is tough to come by.
Tick tock screamed the clock.
I have a problem I would like to bring to light… I’m addicted to books. I rent books on CD from the library and listen to hours and hours of the classics on my ipod. Well, I’m not sure if my most recent ‘Historical Romance’ was a ‘classic’ per se, but it was a good book. I didn’t realize this was a problem until I was in the middle of payroll and found my eyes welling with giant tears while I shouted, ‘Why did Richard have to die?!? How will Florentina go on?!?!’ Think that’s bad? Oh it gets worse. I found myself interjecting into a conversation saying, ‘I had a friend who attended Radcliff. She met JFK’… umm, now I’m addressing fictional characters as close friends?!?
I need a life.
Easter is fast approaching and that can only mean one thing…Cadbury chocolate eggs. I love them and I hate them. Love because I could eat an entire delicious bag of chocolate goodness in a day… hate because that bag has nearly 100 grams of fat. Perhaps I could learn all the lyrics to ‘I Like Big Butts’. It will be applicable to me shortly.
Speaking of big butts, Lizard, Colegate and I went shopping the other day. Cole has been shedding a worrisome amount of weight and is teetering and the fringe of weighing less than me. Problem? She’s 2” taller. As we shopped in Buckle, the girls constantly complained from the dressing room, ‘Do you have a SMALLER size?’. I stood outside with the kids and stared at my reflection in the mirror thinking… ‘When did I turn into the chubby sister?!?!’ I’ve always been the smallest or the second smallest!! Even worse, since when do my sisters make all 124 pounds of me LOOK chubby in comparison?!?!
So am I looking into laying off the Cadbury Eggs for the season?
Heck no! (I say as I’m drinking my Super Big Gulp from 7-11) I’m looking into force feeding the Olsen twinesque sisters of mine cheeseburgers. Perhaps I can tell Cole they are ‘South Beach Diet’ approved.
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