Insomna-blog September 11, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Life, Marriage, Music, The Man, World.
1 comment so far
I feel simultaneously amazed it’s already been nine years since September 2001 and also like it just happened. I guess that’s a fairly common thing. And selfishly, this anniversary always brings about other, more selfish feelings of unpleasantness, as it was September 12, 2001 the day I found out about Brian and the other woman. Last night during a bout of morbidness, I was thinking about whether or not Brian ever thinks about her (he’s human, so the answer to that would be yes) and when he does, what does he think about now about that whole thing. I still sometimes talk to the guy I passed my time with during our separation, but at this point there are no romantic feelings left, probably because I was never in love with him to begin with. It says a lot about Brian’s character that he’s aware of this and doesn’t seem bothered by it…although I’m sure it’s probably not his favorite either.
One of my friends said, But how would you feel if Brian still talked to HER? Well, okay – and this sounds like a lame justification but it’s different. He had a brief but intense relationship with her, whereas mine was more of a friendship that turned into something physical and that was mostly to help my damaged ego at the time. I never once considered ending my marriage to be with the other guy (I’ve had The Other Guy by the Little River Band in my head all week – coincidence, I think not), whereas Brian seriously entertained thoughts like that about her. Shudder.
The Redneck Couple friends of ours finally made it official with a divorce a few weeks ago (everyone who knows them is very relieved) and we were talking about it the other day. Once you bring lawyers into it and have the actual papers drawn up; well, that’s about as final as you can get. For months Nick tried his hardest to convince Sheri he’d change – stop drinking and smoking (tobacco and other substances), cajoled, threatened, plead his case to her mom and in a final stab of desperation got her name tattoo’d on his NECK. Sheri’s brother had the best comment about that: “Well THERE’S a perfect way to save a troubled marriage.” While Brian and I had some serious arguments and hurt feelings and crying marathons, we agreed the other day neither one of us ever came close to calling a lawyer. As messed up as everything was, I guess we both kind of knew if we rode it out for awhile we’d end up back together. Obviously that’s what happened, so in retrospect thank God.
It’s amazing the things you can remain intact through.
Today, nine years later, I can honestly say I would never have been able to picture back then. He’ll be waking up soon, singing and getting his freshly washed Gamecocks jersey on. Friends of his will be coming over this afternoon to watch the game with him and it’ll be his typical fun Saturday in Fall. I will be heading out later to drive a mere half mile to go see Kid Rock, who’s unbelievably playing a concert for the troops stationed here at Fort Jackson. So my day is going to be rather fun as well. It’s funny – my first ever blog post (on MYSPACE, my God) was about a Kid concert I’d just seen. I think that had been the fourth time I’d seen him and this is the eighth. Hi, I’m a well-adjusted super mature adult.
Those old scars will never fully heal, but maybe they’re not supposed to. If they serve to just remind me how grateful I am that we survived something like that, well good.
Sunday Babble January 24, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Books, Fam Damily, Home Life, World.
I’m scared to talk about any of this, since the last time I went public with it I of course sabotaged myself and fell so far off the wagon, I landed in a pile of dust never to be seen again. But screw it: I’m back on the weightloss train. Taking small steps at first, of course, but slowly coming back. For a week I’ve had nothing to drink except coffee and water and if you know me and my deep love of soda you know that’s a biggie. Also cut out most sweets which is another big weakness. We’ll see what happens, but I already feel the difference adequate water consumption makes and it’s all good.
We went to the book sale yesterday and this was what we brought home:
Brian knew about my shopping ban, but he also knew how cruel it would be to let me go without any new books while he loaded up, so he paid for the six I picked out. These sales only happen four times a year and we usually only make two of those, so it was a fun time. We always have fun on book dates. After them, I always feel happy I married someone who loves reading as much as I do, and who understands the love of holding a book in your hands. It always kills me when someone says, (Like one of his cousins did yesterday) “Ha, I HATE to read; I don’t know how you do it!” like they’re all proud of themselves and I’m the dumbass. Okay, buddy – good on you.
The Haiti stuff is killing me and I only allow myself a few minutes a day to watch/read about it. I caught a news story the other night about how a bunch of babies who were up for adoption were brought over here and united with their adoptive parents in a day. And while that made me very happy, it’s also a little disappointing that all the red tape that usually goes along with adoption was so easily skirted. Sooo…why the red tape at all? Another thing upsetting me: I’m wondering how much easier it would be for people like us, or let’s just say US, to adopt now that this situation is here. There are plenty of baby-less parents and now a lot of parent-less babies…but I can tell you that would never happen, and it’s for a shitty reason. Any potential child we’d adopt would most likely be white. Fuck, I hate even writing that. This is not because of me, or even necessarily because of Brian, but because of his family. You’re thinking, Uh, what does his family have to do with what you do? Unfortunately, a lot.
When we moved back here, we knew his parents would be more involved in our lives than ever before. Hell, we moved into one of their houses. And though they’ve (hardly) ever pulled that card, it has come into play at times. Nothing is free; everything has a price. You can judge, that’s okay – it’s just the way it is. I don’t love his parents any less for it; it’s just the way they are and I accept that. For the most part. They were also responsible for most of the cost of the whole fertility experiment last year; they’re very generous with us. But with something like this…it’s just frustrating.
My desire to be a parent hasn’t lessened at all…it’s just been tabled for the time being. And I hate, HATE feeling like it’s out of my control. I don’t accept that. So in the next few days I’m having another talk with an adoption specialist and I plan to gather some information. A little information never hurts.
If there’s a way out there for me to make my family complete, I’m going to find it.
The Innocents November 10, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Life, Nail Biter, Uncategorized, World.
When I was in Florida visiting with my pretend daughters, the conversation turned to sex as it always occasionally does. They’re getting to that age (14 and 17) where I’m starting to get very a little nervous about some situations they might soon be facing and since I’m not actually their real parent, they’re a lot more open with me. This is both heartwarming and terrifying for me.
We’ve somehow established a funny little routine where I ask them “Innocence?” and they know they have to tell me yes or no. Yes as in they still have it or no as in okay, let’s take a ride down to the health department where we can stock you up with condoms and then we’ll need to stop at the liquor store on the way home so I can buy myself a bottle of whatever will obliterate my memory the quickest. I’m guessing tequila. Anyway, so far they’ve both always answered yes, (and then we have a moment where I freak out for a few seconds, wondering if I asked the question wrong and they’re telling me yes they’ve had sex then they reassure me no they haven’t had sex and we all share a nervous laugh) but then the conversation heads towards more uncomfortable ground and they inevitably start asking ME questions. I feel obliged to answer of course, because if they feel I’m open with them they will hopefully continue to be open with me. I’m really hoping that’s the case anyway, otherwise I’ve done nothing more than filled two teenage girls in on way, way too many details regarding my sexual history.
They’re growing up in the same small town I grew up in. I used to think this was a benefit, as small towns seem more innocent than big cities in a lot of ways. Less drugs, strong sense of community, parents who all went to school together and who are more than happy to rat out somebody else’s kid should they catch them doing something wrong, etc. But then I remembered the late 80’s/early 90’s in that same small town and the ridiculous lack of things to do there. Movie theater. Roller rink. Hanging out in McDonald’s parking lot to see where the party was, finding someone of age who has done nothing with his/her life to buy alcohol for everyone, then going out to the woods to drink beer and have sex. Unless somebody’s parents were away for the weekend, in which case there was the luxury of having a house to fornicate and underage drink in. That’s about it.
One of the cliche’s I reiterate to them is it’s always, ALWAYS okay to say no. This sounds like a big ol’ DUH, I know, but saying no is something I’ve had a problem with throughout my life, whether it’s a thankless task at work no one else wants to do to going to a social function I know I’ll hate to doing sex stuff with a dude I didn’t necessarily want to do. I was lucky enough never to have actually been pressured to the point it became a crime, but looking back I know there are several guys I could subtract off my List had I just been persistent enough to stick with my first instinct and not give in because it was just easier. I know I’m what’s known as a “pleaser,” and I see that trait in both girls as well. I think it’s a female thing to begin with anyway, for the most part. And while my husband certainly benefits from it, those girls don’t need to be pleasin’ any-fucking-body.
Even with their virginities intact (thankyougod, thankyougod) they’re both way more sophisticated than I was in my mid-teens. While it’s shocking to hear them joke around and use words like “jizz” and “vag” and “fingerbang” (okay, I’ll admit – I taught them that last one – but still), I think they’re actually at an advantage compared to me back then. The world in general is a lot filthier now and their parents are way more liberal in what they’ve allowed them to be exposed to than I was. At 14, Elizabeth sees almost every Rated R movie that gets released, whereas I had to carefully scheme and plot and hope my parents would sleep deeply to be able to sneak and watch Endless Love when it finally premiered on HBO by sitting two inches in front of the TV with the sound turned almost all the way down. Becky is on the Internet so much, SHE showed ME where to find the naked pictures of Pete Wentz. A lot of people view this as the crumbling of civilized society, but I see it more as de-sensitization. Oh, look at that – another penis, big deal.
Okay, not really. But it helps me sleep at night, okay?
Vent September 16, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Whatever, World.
Being a citizen of South Carolina is a dubious distinction lately. First our hot-to-globetrot Governor unwittingly invented a new code for when you plan to sneak off with your extramarital lover – just tell people you’re going to “hike the Appalacian Trail, heh heh heh” and they’ll know exactly what you mean. Then of course our Congressman last week, whose two little words will forever be far more remembered over the several thousand worded speech the President gave.
Heather wrote a thoughtful post about it the other day and this is by no means an answer or retort to that, as she always gets her point across very clearly and I happen to agree with it. But some of the fallout I’ve experienced as a citizen of this state in the aftermath has gotten my hackles all hacked up in a big way. I get both sides of this thing: it was an inappropriate time and place for the rude outburst, but also that the man who did it feels very passionately about the issue and in fact was correct in his statement (something the media pretty much glossed over) (of course). Either way, he quickly apologized to the President, the President graciously accepted his apology, and they both said let’s move forward from this and have a civil discussion about it.
My question is, is it even possible to have a discussion like that anymore? A lot of things have been building for so long and people feel the issues we’re facing now are so crucial that many of us are letting our emotions lead the way, causing complete divisiveness. We feel we need to pick a side, any side, politically, socially, religiously, Team Jon or Team Kate. It’s black or white, with no room for gray areas whatsoever. Shit, dude – I LIVE in gray area. And I think if we’re going to be able to have civil conversations with each other, we have to be both educated about the topic, whatever it may be, and open-minded enough to listen to an opposing view without regressing back to 2nd Grade name calling.
The day after the infamous Fall 2009 You Lie Healthcare Reform speech, one of my Facebook “friends” posted this as her status message: “I don’t care what your politics – RESPECT – HE IS THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!!!!!!!!!!! Shame on you Joe Wilson! You should’ve just finished it with the “N” word and really made your point!”
Please hold on just a minute while I reattach the top of my skull.
This is someone I went to high school with, the sister of a close friend of mine. She’s half white, half Philippine, married to a black man, and was the girl in our small(minded) hometown known as the one who “goes out with black guys.” So I’m willing to bet she’s had to deal with some bullshit in her life. But someone please, and I’m serious here, PLEASE explain to me how disagreeing with a Presidential policy and vocalizing it by calling him a liar automatically means the Congressman is a racist. Anybody? Is she using deductive reasoning and presuming that Congressman + South = Prejudiced? Seems to me all she’s done there is to simply perpetuate another stereotype. And rightly or wrongly, I took offense to it, as its something I’ve been accused of before, and I don’t know about you, but it makes me almost feral with rage.
Right before the election I was with my extended family for a long weekend in Disney, our annual reunion. We’d gotten into a spirited political discussion (always a good time) and when it became obvious who I wouldn’t be voting for (I am without question the minority in my family regarding political leanings), my cousin’s wife incredulously said, “So you’re a racist?”
I was too shocked at the time to come back with any kind of thoughtful retort, but now close to a year later I’ve thought of a few.
“No, I’m not a racist; are you a sweeping generalist?”
“No, I’m not a racist, but neither am I a Socialist. Or a narcissist. Or a cellist. But my birthstone is Amethysist.”
“If you’re speaking with regard to his being black, no. I’d be more than happy to vote for Condoleezza Rice or Alan Keyes but neither of them are running for President.”
“No, I’m a Jew, just like you. I’ve also had two very close friends, one who is a black woman and the other Korean. My bedroom walls used to be entirely covered with Michael Jackson, Eddie Murphy and Prince posters. I once caused a stir one night at the Roller Barn in eighth grade when I dared to ‘couple-skate’ with a black kid in my class. I used to be so naive to the many small nuances of racism that I once asked my friend if she wanted to share a large Coke when we were at the movies and was completely shocked when she told me we shouldn’t because people would flip out if they saw us drinking out of the same straw.”
I could go on, but I feel stupid enough already having to quantify it this much.
There are a lot of things going on right now that are scaring the holy bejeezus out of me. I don’t want to have to be scared to voice my opinion when I feel strongly about something; I need to keep a clear head, remain calm and not get derailed when someone tries to steer the conversation with cheap shots and take the focus off of the issue at hand. Nothing will be solved that way, nothing. And right now? There are a lot of problems that are going to need solving very, very soon.
God bless the Internet, man.
I somehow wandered onto this site that gifts us with the fifteen creepiest vintage ads of all time. I love this stuff, I really do. And while I’ve seen a lot of vintage stuff that is unintentionally horrifying, I never ever imagined I’d see something like the following. Seriously, Lysol?
Later, June – None too Soon June 28, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Bloggie Friends, Holidays, Home Life, Weather, Work, World.
Can I take a moment here and express how absolutely effing THRILLED I am that the month of June is about to be over? Wooohooo, yeeeahh boyyy, yeee haaawww, rock the casbah!!! Whew! Thank you.
Besides jumping (literally) back on the diet/exercise wagon, I can’t really think of one positive thing that has occured over the last thirty days. I don’t have to reiterate all of the stuff that’s happened in the news. Though most of it doesn’t affect my life directly, I’m still saddened over it. Although maybe the governor situation will end up affecting us somewhere down the line – unfortunately that situation has done nothing to change my opinion that most politicians do not give two shits about the people they purport to serve and protect.
For us, this month has been all about work, work and then some more work, with hardly any downtime at all. This is good in the sense that we can always use extra money, bad in the sense that even the dog is depressed over how little he’s seen Brian lately. If all goes according to plan, they should be finished with the tile job on Tuesday and then he’s done with toiling over extra work for awhile. He’s scheduled to take a test to get his pesticide license at the beginning of August and even though he’s taken a similar test for it in Florida, he’s going to need to spend some time preparing. I think a little mental work done in the air conditioning will be a welcome change for him.
Which brings me to my third and final complaint. I may have mentioned it once or twice or five thousand times before, but this weather sucks hairy testicles. The August temperatures decided to visit us two months early this year and it just makes everything that much more trying. Brian even said he knows he snapped at me the other night only because he was so hot and irritable and that when he told Chris about it, Chris told him he had just snapped at his sweet little mom in a similar fashion. I understand; it’s just misery. I’ve always said this is where I want to live the rest of my life, but somewhere on down the line I could see us moving a little further north. A mere two hours would make a huge difference.
So I’m very excited for July. It’s a four-day work week and a three-day weekend coming up that includes one of my favorite holidays. I’m hoping we’re able to actually do something fun next weekend, even if that is only seeing fireworks. I love me some fireworks.
Before I go, I gotta do some big pimpin’ for my good bloggie friend Crisitunity, who’s facing some big life changes in the upcoming few weeks. She’s handling it by being positive and pro-active and I admire the hell outta her. Stop by her place and show some love, wouldya?
Step Away from the Television June 23, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Tee Vee, Whatever, World, Youth.
I’ll keep it brief, I promise, but here are a couple of Lessons I’ve Learned from Jon & Kate:
1. As tempting as it may be to sell out your family’s privacy for a reality TV show, don’t do it.
2. If you feel a need to verbally castrate your husband, don’t do it in front of a national audience. Repeatedly. For four years.
3. If you feel a need to verbally castrate your husband at all, you maybe shouldn’t be married to him.
4. If your husband tells you he’s not happy, believe him. Seriously. If you don’t, the next thing you know there will be pictures of him on the front of US Weekly partying in bars with women who aren’t you.
5. Never, I repeat NEVER get a haircut like that.
Besides that trainwreck last night, I also decided it would be a great idea to watch this MTV show. I know – I think I was trying to see how many IQ points I could subtract off of my total number. This is what happens when Brian isn’t home at night and I have nobody but the dog to witness this embarrassing choice of viewing. Anyway, it was this docu-style, “reality” type drama, set at a college in Madison, Wisconsin where five or six college freshman film themselves with shaky, jerky cameras and narrate what’s going on to capture the “college experience.”
The worst part is I can’t even claim to have watched it by accident, as it was on the MTV On Demand channel, so I actually had to push several buttons on the remote to see it. And I watched almost three full episodes before I snapped out of my mouth-breathing, zoned out trance, punched myself in the face and turned it off in disgust. Not disgust for them, for myself. No, the kids on that show pretty much embody everything I picture a college freshman to be these days. One dude got a $2400 tattoo, even though his sister reminded him their mom “makes necklaces” in order to pay for him to be in school. Another one got kicked out of his dorm room (not clear about the reason) after his mom had sent the $6000 housing payment and ended up getting an apartment with two 21-year-olds – you know, for the sweet partying opportunities.
It was…not shocking. Really the only thing that sort of bothered me was how much the girls lived up to the slutty college girl stereotype. I understand that the average 18-year-old female and I have a very different set of sexual ethics, but even when I was that age I never acted like I was being filmed for Girls Gone Wild. I’m not claiming by any means to be morally superior; I’ve done my share of cringe-worthy things. But damn. Seeing how these girls acted during Spring Break – dude, I LIVED there. I’ve done the Daytona Beach thing many times and yeah, that included getting drunk and having sex. But I always knew the first and last name of the person I was having sex with and I never lost any blocks of time due to blackouts. They just act like they have it all together; they know what the hell they’re doing…and, wow do I sound old right now. Get off my lawn you little troublemakers!
This is why I don’t watch a lot of TV, especially in the Summertime. But I am excited for tonight – he has to work late again, so I’ll totally get to watch Paris Hilton’s My New BFF! Ha. Not really. He didn’t get home until 11:00 last night and we stayed up until 1:00 just so we could catch up with each other which sucked ass, so tonight I’m going over to where they’re working so I can be his tile apprentice. Or be their errand girl. Or try to build some brain cells back up by reading a book. Whatever; it doesn’t matter.
I’m a little nervous about the consultation appointment with Dr. Fertility Thursday, but I’m doing my best not to dwell on it too much. There will be plenty of time for worrying when I can’t sleep Wednesday night. Wow, planning ahead for worrying. That has to be really healthy.
It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I have gas April 30, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Whatever, World.
Yesterday I joked on Twitter that I was scared of getting swine flu but then remembered I’m Jewish. (Thanks Annette for joke inspiration) Then I wake up this morning to the disturbing news there are now seventeen confirmed cases of it not only here in S.C., but in Newberry County which is the next county over from WHERE I SIT RIGHT HERE. Not that I’m panicking; don’t be ridiculous. I’m Jewish, remember? But seriously, Sundry mentioned Stephen King’s The Stand, which is one of those I re-visit every few years or so; you know – the story where the flu wipes out all of civilization? Not recommended for early summer reading right now. I first read that as an impressionable teenager and I can’t understand why I didn’t become a paranoid germaphobe recluse. Oh, wait.
I’ve oft joked about Brian’s propensity toward run-for-the-hills survival procedures. The ever-growing gun collection (now with more ammo!), the various survival guides. The honing of the hunting skills. I could argue when we moved back here to be close to his family again that was the first step in our preparations for the apocalypse, except we moved from a large city to a semi-large city, which is also the Capital of a state, and our neighborhood now is spitting distance from the entrance gates to a major military base. Oops. But! If you think he hasn’t scoped out some property in the country very close to here that has definite bunker-type potential, you are so wrong. And don’t worry – the compound is big enough for us and about thirty of our closest friends and I’m looking forward to the start of my very own compound. It’s always been a dream of mine. Except no Mormons allowed – this isn’t some Big Love shit up in this piece. Unless Bill Paxton is involved; then I’d be more than happy to share.
So, let’s see – conspiracy theorists, whatcha think. 2012 – was that Mayan calendar on the money? Biblically, things are starting to freak me out and I don’t even know the Bible that well. But that Revelations part I read in seventh grade kind of stuck with me over the years. Politically, haha! Oy, don’t get me started. Well, I think I have it. Here’s how you know when you need to make suitable preparations for the end of the world: the day I announce I’m pregnant. Should you get that announcement here, do not panic. Just let me know if you want to be part of my new compound and you’ll get in on the ground floor. And by ground floor, I mean literally it’ll be made out of dirt. There are a couple of my good friends who, especially on nights when we were Not-sober, well, we’ve discussed the compound idea at great length, let’s just put it that way. At least I know AC/DC was right then; my friends ARE gonna be there too!
Up for sale soon, my new t-shirt: “Where are we going and what am I doing in this handbasket?”
Land of the Midnight Sun March 17, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Dreams, Travel, Whatever, World.
I’m looking for any and all diversions this week; bear with me. Bear. Ha, that’s…nevermind.
We have this weird fascination for Alaska. Neither of us has ever been there, but we’re a little obsessed with the idea of it and if there is ever something about it on the telly, odds are we’re going to watch it. Which reminds me – if any of you watch DeadliestCatch, Season 5 starts next month (Yay!)but as of my last check on the Discovery Channel website (yes, I’ve been checking daily – what?) they haven’t listed a start date yet. A show about crab fishing in the Bering Sea – me? Yes. I love it. I made the mistake of watching a marathon a few years ago and have been hooked (pun totally intended) ever since. I may or may not even have a crush on one or two or all of the fishermen.
Last night Brian told me he’d taped something he thought we might like. It’s called Alone in the Wilderness, a documentary about a 51-year-old man who went to Alaska in 1968 to see if he could live there by himself for one year and documented his daily life with a camera and a journal. His name is Richard Proenneke and here is the badass himself:
Not only did he live quite well for that year, he liked it so much he ended up living the next THIRTY-FIVE years there. By himself. He made his own tools. He built his own cabin. He grew and caught his own food. The dude was amazing, and if you ever get a chance to check out the movie or his book, (and oh, we will be getting the book, trust me)I highly recommend it.
I guess what we like about people like this is that they kind of put things into perspective a little bit. Here we are, worried about the economy, caught up in whatever little dramas we all have, (some of which we create for ourselves), stressed out over work or family or whatever. People like this who have the balls to say, You know what? I quit this bitch. And then actually follow through with it; it’s just absolutely amazing to me. I’m jealous of that ability. He narrates the documentary and at one point when he’s done HAND BUILDING HIS LOG CABIN, he says, Falling asleep to the sound of the river rushing by is the best sleeping pill in the world.I believe you, buddy.
Brian watches things like that with obvious lust in his soul. I could almost hear what he was thinking last night as we watched. I know he’d love to try something like that, even if only for a few months. The closest he’s ever had to pure and complete happiness from a job was when he did commercial fishing, NOT in Alaska, down in South Florida, but still. I dealt with being apart for days, sometimes weeks at a time because I knew how much he loved it, for almost a year. I wish there was a way for him to do it again, of course without the separation part. A lot of people said he was being kind of selfish to do it. Maybe. All I know is it’s a pleasure to see your spouse that happy all the time. I would’ve felt selfish had I not agreed to let him do it.
I fervently hope someday we’ll take a trip to Alaska. Yes, that sounds a little crazy but it’s totally true. I think the closest we’ll ever come is the tentative cruise Johnann and I are planning for some year in the future. It might take ten years to save and plan for it, but it can be done. Something crazy too: many years ago (I want to say the fifties), one of my dad’s older relatives bought property there. Supposedly. We’ve never been able to locate any deed or anything to prove that; it was just something people in the family would bring up from time to time. I never used to care, but now? Damn. Could you imagine though if I ever found this evidence? Gah! Who knows, then; all bets would be off. I might just have to say I quit this bitch; I’m out! Governor, tell your teenage daughter to get ready to party and get a babysitter for the bastard grandchild because here we come!
People unaware of the concept January 11, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Home Life, World.
Out of all the chores I’ve done this weekend, I guess scrubbing chili off of Brian’s truck has to be the weirdest. I can say with complete honesty the last time I cleaned food product off of one of my vehicles, it was due to my own vomiting.
As a realtor, George’s job responsibilites cover a wide arrange of tasks and about a month ago, he asked Brian to help assist with an eviction. They attempted it back then, but the lady who owned the house was convinced she had the right to be there even though she hadn’t made any payments since August. I don’t know where she got her legal skills, but apparently she knew something, for she was able to file enough appeals so that they were unsuccessful in kicking her out the last two times they tried. She was overheard telling the officer on the scene that once Obama was in office, she wouldn’t have to worry about this mess anymore – he was going to take care of people like her. (?)
I don’t know about you, but if I’ve ever been late on paying for the place I live in, even by only a few days, I’m in utter panic mode, trying to figure out whatever I need to do to rectify the situation, spending sleepless nights and suffering stomcah problems and cold sweats until I solve the problem. I’ve never thought about any government official helping me out in this situation. I’m guessing that even though this President-elect is someone who is trying to help people, I don’t think that includes paying their mortgages for them? Did I miss something from one of the debates?
A few days ago, George told Brian it was eviction time again. On very short notice Brian lined up four more guys, as legally they were supposed to have six people there to remove the items from the home. They showed up bright and early and the lady met them outside, telling them this would all be taken care of again and that they were wasting their time. She also expected them to put everything back into her house the way they found it when the cops came in to save the day like they did last time. This time when the cop showed up, he had to give her the bad news that it wasn’t going to happen this time. She tried to get him on her side by complaining about “these bankers and real estate people” all being greedy crooks and the cop agreed with her, but then said it was also true you have to pay to live in a house you bought until the time it was paid off. I’m not sure what part of that she didn’t grasp.
Brian said the inside of the house was among the worst he’s ever seen in the time since we’ve been going into these places and cleaning them up. I won’t be involved in the cleaning of this one and for that I’m ever-thankful. He said he found about fifteen empty Windex bottles under one of the bathroom sinks and that was puzzling, since every glass surface he saw was filthy. Empty toilet paper rolls were everywhere and there were a few more things he told me I will spare you, as I wish I didn’t have the visual myself.
Except for one. On one of her living room walls was a gigantic, wall-size poster of Obama. The President Who Will Pay All Your Bills.
As they were removing the items from the house, Brian saw someone go near his truck but didn’t think anything of it at the time. When he got home he noticed a big orange/brown stain with little chunks of meat and with his keen powers of observation (sniffing) surmised it to be chili. Since it hadn’t been there that morning, he figured that was their way of showing their appreciation for the house cleaning.
For boring old people, we certainly do have some interesting days.