Since I can remember, I have always wanted to be a writer. Children's books, poetry, crime fiction, etc. So, since I'm turning 30 in a couple months (okay, LESS than a couple months) it might be time to actually give it a shot... for real. And so this blog came to be. I realize that I don't have a normal mind, and I think of really weird things - REALLY weird. And since they are strange and random and I really can't just walk up to anyone and say them, I figured that this would be my spot to jot, if you will. And at the same time, I am hoping to get more habitual about my writing.
I may not always make sense. I may not even have a point (like right now). I'm just pushing myself to write something, anything, until something worthwhile comes out.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
A bong, bong time ago....
Actually, it was only last week that I became a Realtor. I've worked really hard to get my license, and waited seemingly forever for my little slip of paper that makes everything legal. So of course I was really excited to go on my first official showing. I would have been downright nervous if it wasn't for the fact that I was showing houses to a very good friend of mine. He was looking to buy an investment property to either flip or rent, and I had a handful of forclosures that just popped up for sale.
The first house we went to was at the top of our list only because there were tenants living there, and I had scheduled a showing time with the three guys so they would be out of the house when we were there. It was three blocks from the University campus, and I realized these tenants were a pack of college dudes as I tripped over beer bottles while making my way up the sidewalk.
The interior was beyond my comprehension. It had that college guy funk about it... A sort of 0f beef stew-like mixture of beer, sweat, sex, and Lysol covering up something else that I couldn't quite name. It wasn't a "Bachelor's Pad" - it was a shrine to Keystone Light and naked bitches. Crunched beer cans were strewn about the end tables, couch, beds, toilet tank, etc. My shoes stuck to the hardwood floors as I walked through this fantastic display of not living with mommy for the first time. The Christmas tree in the corner of the living room was made completely out of beer cans... with an empty Barton's Vodka bottle on top. Beer boxes adorned the do-it-yourself bar area built in the dining room like wallpaper. Pieces of beer boxes were taped to the ceiling fan blades. Beer boxes were taped over the windows to serve as either curtains or insulation. Posters of naked chicks were everywhere - in fact, the 20 plus pairs of bedroom eyes looked as if they were following me and pretty much creeped me out. The bedrooms smelled like vomit and drunken skanks. In the kitchen, what looked like a half-eaten sandwich jumped up and scurried away when I entered the room.
But the crowning jewel in this man cave was actually found by my client (thank God I wasn't showing to a random stranger!). Right there, sitting on the coffee table like an artistic center piece, was a foot-tall glass water bong. Ah, yes - now I know what the Lysol was trying it's best to conceal. Fucking awesome. These dudes don't have enough time in their busy schedule of banging bar whores and passing out in class to at least try to hide their reefer? Or maybe they came home at lunch and got baked before class, and toooootally spaced it. The whole thing was hilarious to me, and even started to remind me of the good ol' days of just not giving a fuck.
My friend seriously considered buying the dump just so he could go over and party.
Moral of the story? My first showing - the house was shit, the bong was a hit.
The first house we went to was at the top of our list only because there were tenants living there, and I had scheduled a showing time with the three guys so they would be out of the house when we were there. It was three blocks from the University campus, and I realized these tenants were a pack of college dudes as I tripped over beer bottles while making my way up the sidewalk.
The interior was beyond my comprehension. It had that college guy funk about it... A sort of 0f beef stew-like mixture of beer, sweat, sex, and Lysol covering up something else that I couldn't quite name. It wasn't a "Bachelor's Pad" - it was a shrine to Keystone Light and naked bitches. Crunched beer cans were strewn about the end tables, couch, beds, toilet tank, etc. My shoes stuck to the hardwood floors as I walked through this fantastic display of not living with mommy for the first time. The Christmas tree in the corner of the living room was made completely out of beer cans... with an empty Barton's Vodka bottle on top. Beer boxes adorned the do-it-yourself bar area built in the dining room like wallpaper. Pieces of beer boxes were taped to the ceiling fan blades. Beer boxes were taped over the windows to serve as either curtains or insulation. Posters of naked chicks were everywhere - in fact, the 20 plus pairs of bedroom eyes looked as if they were following me and pretty much creeped me out. The bedrooms smelled like vomit and drunken skanks. In the kitchen, what looked like a half-eaten sandwich jumped up and scurried away when I entered the room.
But the crowning jewel in this man cave was actually found by my client (thank God I wasn't showing to a random stranger!). Right there, sitting on the coffee table like an artistic center piece, was a foot-tall glass water bong. Ah, yes - now I know what the Lysol was trying it's best to conceal. Fucking awesome. These dudes don't have enough time in their busy schedule of banging bar whores and passing out in class to at least try to hide their reefer? Or maybe they came home at lunch and got baked before class, and toooootally spaced it. The whole thing was hilarious to me, and even started to remind me of the good ol' days of just not giving a fuck.
My friend seriously considered buying the dump just so he could go over and party.
Moral of the story? My first showing - the house was shit, the bong was a hit.
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