I feel like ass. I still have that weird sinus/throat/snot overload thing going. It's pleasant, for sure. How is it possible I can personally create this much phlegm? Add in a headache and a hacking cough and you have a lovely picture, suitable for framing. However, none of this seemed to stop me from competing in my first sport class race on Monday.

By moving up from beginner to sport, I more or less agreed to lose every race from here on in. Yay for losing! The race on Monday was no exception. I came in dead last, by quite a margin. I didn't feel 100% great physically though, so I wasn't exactly trying to keep up with the pack. My goal was to finish the race and I did do that. It was fun and hopefully I'll suck less next time. Here's the fun thing- my last-place lap time still beat the winner of the beginner women's race, so it's nice to know I can still stomp some puny beginner ass. (I'm a peach, aren't I?)

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Hey Kid, Want to Buy a House?

Anyway, the last two days have been a lesson in how to buy a house...or not. We saw this great house on Monday night and fell in love with it. It was a tad close to the highway, but was otherwise perfect inside and out. It was a 1930s era Cape Cod with a renovated kitchen, hardwood floors, fresh paint, and a screened in porch. Adorable. Sigh.

Kenny and I talked it over and decided to make a bid. Last night we went back to look at it and then went to the realtor's office to write up the contract. What a fun task that was. He laid out the money we'd need for all kinds of insanity- appraisal, inspection, credit report, closing this, closing that, blah blah blah. Then there was the negotiation bit, the offer, the deposit check, the massive amount of signatures. We were both pale and sweaty by the end of it.

But, by this morning we'd pretty much gotten used to the idea and had mentally moved into our new house. I was placing furniture in my head all morning and planning future paint colors. Meanwhile, our lender continued to not answer the phone and to forget to fax pertinent documents (and then fax the wrong document), which was really, really helpful, if by "helpful" I mean incredibly frustrating.

But finally the contract was finished and the offer was made at noon. And...we didn't get it. Some squirrelly bastard beat us to it and the owner accepted without waiting to see our offer. I said Goddamn.

Memo to the owner of the adorable house:

I PETTED YOUR CAT! I COMPLIMENTED YOUR TASTE IN PAINT COLORS! ALSO, I'M PRETTIER THAN THOSE OTHER FOOLS! WHY DID YOU FORSAKE US? MAYBE IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH YOUR UNCLE BEING THE LISTING AGENT? Hmph. Favoritism.

Anyway, we were crushed and annoyed but we learned our lesson. If you want a house, bust in and immediately throw fistfuls of cash as the owner, while simultaneously moving in your boxes. Don't bother with that "make an offer" business. Remember, possession is 9/10ths of the law, whatever the hell that means.

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Loan Center Notes.

Today was the monthly "Spirit Awards" ceremony and you know what that means- the Spirit Council greeting! Yes, upon arriving at work, bleary-eyed and sleepy, I had to immediately run the Spirit gauntlet- eight people, armed with cow bells, who shrieked "GOOD MOR-NIN!" at me while I cringed my way through them. I'd like to punch whoever thought of this. Die, Spirit bitch, die.

And now, I give you the musical stylings of Work Friend, who was inspired by the lively freak show atmosphere of the loan center.

(to be sung to the Eagles� tune of �Hotel California�, by brilliant Work Friend)

In a dusty corner cubicle. Air conditioning in my hair. The warm smell of the Chik-Fil-A and chicken wings. Rising up through the air. Up ahead in the distance. I see Jorge�s dirty glasses shimmering in the light. My head grows heavy, and I grit my teeth. I feel like screaming out of fright. There he stands by my cubicle. Is he a woman??-- I can�t tell. But I am thinking to myself, yes this is my mother fucking hell�

But then the cross dresser walks by, and she shows me the way. There are voices down the corridor, and I hear them say�.

Welcome to the Loan Processing Center!!
Such a lovely time
Such a lovely time (background)
In the land of the bovine...
But Plenty of room at the Loan Processing Center
Any time of year
Any time of year (background)
You can get fat here
You can get fat here

We call him Rufus �cause he�s twisted. There�s nothing about him we defend. He got a lot of broke-assed girls. That he calls �friends�. How they dance in his cubicle. Cause he makes them feel good� Some like him for his free candy. Some like him for his Aryan wood.

So I called up the Boss Lady. Please bring me my work! She said. The last smart-ass like you made me go berserk. And still those voices are calling from far away. Wake you up in the middle of the shift. Just to hear them say�

Welcome to the Loan Processing Center!!
No, I don�t snore
No, I don�t snore (background)
It�s the girl next to me dressed like a whore�
They're �flexin�� it up at the Loan Processing Center
What a nice place to work
What a nice place to work (background)
Bring your own plate, spoon, and fork�

Florescent lights on the ceiling. Good Caffeine on ice. And Work Friend says:

We are all just prisoners here. Of our own device. And in the cafeteria. We all round up for the free feast. They try to poison us with their warm potato salad. But they just can't kill the beast. Last thing I remember. I am sprinting for the door. I have to find the passage back to the place I parked my car. �Relax,� said the little supply room man. We are programmed to believe. You can check out any time you like BUT YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE�

0 chatty monkeys