I finally got a good night’s sleep in, and was enjoying the first day this week that I didn’t have to be up super, ass crack of dawn early. Then Wifey burst into the bedroom saying something like “THE CLOSING’S AT 9:20 NOT NOON!!! SHE TOLD ME NOON! SHE TOLD ME NOOOON!! IT’S IN MY CALENDAR!! I SWEAR!! Oh, and she said that the buyer wants us to remove some cabinets and some other shit from the garage.”
With that we quickly showered, and gathered that was justneeded as we proceeded to finally rid ourselves of two mortgage payments (luckily after just a few months!), all the while sending texts to our realtor saying I’m done, I’ve done a million things just short of a sloppy ass, shocker type cunnilingus festival to get tthis woman happy (I’m not above such things, but still), and I’m done. OK, I said something like that. But if she would PAY me for such a “fest” I might re-write.
We arrived at the office, and were immediately asked if we had just heard from our realtor. “Ummm , no, now what?” “Well the woman buying your house was in an auto accident on the way here, so we need to do things a bit differently.”
OH, FOR FUCCCCCCCKKKKKKK’S SAKE!!!!!!!!
We proceeded to sign the usual million papers, find out the woman was thankfully going to be OK, and hopefully will sign everything later.
After that cluster I headed to everyone’s favorite place to spend 1 to 6 hours of their day–the DMV (known as the Secretary of State here in Michigan) where I needed to register the xB, change my address, and register to vote.
Yes, yes, yes… I FINALLY registered to vote for the first time since the great American fuck up known as the 2000 election. Since then I have said “fuck it, apparently voting doesn’t really matter in this country, let the shit fall where it may,” and denounced American politics while flying a liberal, libertarian, left-wing, semi-socialist, borderline nihilist, banner of the party known as FUCK IT! Seriously, we’re all going to die sooner than later, and end up worm food, so drink beer, ride bikes, take photos, watch soccer football, eat good food, and enjoy your female (or male) friends as much as you can, ’cause hanging out and doing stuff with them is pretty freaking awesome, and it feels real good.
However, these are dangerous times, and even though I think that Mr. Trump never, ever, ever, ever, EVER intended to actually be nominated, the Republican party as it once was, is far gone, and now fueled my intense hate, religious fuckwad dickheads, rampant racism, gun wielding freaks, and fear mongering. Trump’s threat is very, VERY real. I am no fan of Hillary, and a bit sad that she may be our first female lady in office (I always sort of thought Wifey would be), but she ain’t no Trump, so I’ll vote for her for that very reason. And if Trump wins? Hello Mexico!!!!
Next up Wifey, B-Man and one of his friends headed back to PA to visit, show one of his best friends our old, pretty darn good (as cities go) city, see a Riverhounds match, and goof off for a few days while I get to stay here and watch Jake (the dog).
Once they left I proceeded to Home Depot (God, I hate that place) to get some stuff to continue some repairs on an egress window on the side of the house, and some downspout issues. That went fine, but then I got the stupid idea to trim back a tree by our front porch in the hot as balls sun, as bees buzzed around me.
I pruned, I trimmed, I cut, got jabbed in the forehead by the sharp end of a limb, cut my palm on a saw, then trimmed some more. “Oh fuck, this is looking like shit! Maybe just a little more.” I cut, I trimmed. “Shit, this thing is fucked!” I soon remembered my #1 Rule of Manscaping… CUT IT ALL!!! BUTCH PELVIS!!
Two minutes later I was on the phone to multiple friends asking for chain saw assistance to get this thing out of the freaking ground, “‘Cause Wifey is gonna have a fucking shitttttttt fit when she gets back!!!”
I took a few steps back, said those two words that I love so much (“fuck it”), realized it will grow back at some point (or be ripped the hell out by chain saw wielding landscapers, or angry members of the Association), and all will be fine.
So, I cleaned up everything and proceed to load up the back of the xB with limbs and brush for a trip to the recycling center where one of the nicest women in the world took my money for a crap ton of tree limbs.
On my second trip to the recycling center, I went to get out of the xB and was immediately stung in the (fat) back by a bee. Grrrrrrrr!!!!
I think I may have sweat out the weight of 2-year-old kid (roughly 100 pounds American), and decided that my evening would be spent listing to Men In Blazers, having a drink or ten, grilling, and going to bed in hopes of getting a ride in at some point tomorrow. It’s days like this that I realize that while I might not have a “real” job, I do a crap ton to keep our small family running, and as Wifey (my wife of now 19 years) thankfully pointed out to me during a recent moment of Sad Bastardness, without me, and my one time shit employer that I hope goes bankrupt any day now, our new home would not exist. Thanks Wifey! Fuck you Trib, you shitty Republican fish wrap! That buy out and crap 401K has finally paid off. Until it doesn’t and I’m turning tricks for pocket change, late night at the local park. Still, I’d rather have to do that than work for you!!
By the way, I rode on Tuesday. It was extremely windy and hot as balls, it was the worst ride I’ve had in some time, and I was glad to see it end. Heat, wind, crap legs, and crapper photos. Such is life. Cheers.
Morning Edit: I thought about deleting some of this rant, but instead will just add that this post was brought to you by the fine folks at Seagram’s.
Later.