2.27.2008
2.25.2008
IMPROG: ARTIFICIAL is the word.
Artificial is my improg word today. And isn’t that funny that Susan had hip today.
I had to say “penis” in front of my 14 year old peers. It may not be a big deal to kids now, but I was mortified. Of course, saying dildo was probably worse than having to say penis, in hindsight. In fact, that probably was a turning point in my life and having stage fright.
I am sure they had a huge laugh about THAT in the teacher’s lounge that day! And it is really, really funny. Now, at least.
I don’t know much else I can say, except to leave you with this joke:
Thank you very much. I’ll be here all week. The 9:30 show is completely different than the 7:30 show. Try the veal. Don’t forget to tip your waitress. I’m outta here.
This probably wasn't what Susan expected when she gave me the word ARTIFICIAL to improg.
Check this out if you want to know what Margerie's daughter thinks a TENDU is.
Every time I hear the word artificial, I am taken back to my health class in 8th grade. For some reason, we were trying to guess what the “D” stood for in Mr. D. Stangby’s name.
Everybody was taking turns guessing. The usual came out of most people’s mouths: David, Donald, the name Dick even got a few snickers from some of us. Remember - we were in 8th grade. I had a new word and I was proud to use it. I didn’t quite know what it meant, but one of my friends had called somebody by that name, and I thought it was funny. So, I said, quite loudly...
DILDO!!!!!!
Not quite half of the people in the room even knew what that meant. My friend who had introduced me to the word turned around and her eyes were huge. She obviously knew what it meant (she had older brothers and sisters, and no, it wasn't Melody). Mr. DAN (not Dildo) Stangby, stopped in his tracks. He looked at me and asked me to repeat what I had said. For somebody as loud and as obnoxious as I was (am), I muttered under my breath:
DILDO.
He sent me to the library to look up the word in the dictionary. I was shocked and appalled that was what those things were called! And to think, I had just called my teacher a dildo! And can we even talk about the fact that they weren't really used for your face and neck muscles?
When I got back to class, he made me stand up in front of the class (remember, I had stage fright), and tell everybody what it was:
DILDO: An artificial substitute for a penis. DILDO.
I had to say “penis” in front of my 14 year old peers. It may not be a big deal to kids now, but I was mortified. Of course, saying dildo was probably worse than having to say penis, in hindsight. In fact, that probably was a turning point in my life and having stage fright.
I am sure they had a huge laugh about THAT in the teacher’s lounge that day! And it is really, really funny. Now, at least.
I don’t know much else I can say, except to leave you with this joke:
Q. What do soybeans and dildoes have in common?
A. They are both artificial meat substitutes.
A. They are both artificial meat substitutes.
Thank you very much. I’ll be here all week. The 9:30 show is completely different than the 7:30 show. Try the veal. Don’t forget to tip your waitress. I’m outta here.
Check this out if you want to know what Margerie's daughter thinks a TENDU is.
2.22.2008
How to SHORT SHEET a bed.
I thought the American public (and those of you who are on the opposite side of the world reading this) deserved to know the proper way to short-sheet a bed.
Trust me - it's easier with pictures. The first thing I had to do was to pick one of my dog's toys to illustrate this (I don't have kids, so there are no random barbies or dolls or GI Joe's laying around). As you can see, the dogs have issues of eating the faces off their babies. I decided to go with Mr. Lion. Even though he is flat, at least he has a face.
#1
Start with an ordinary bed. I have colored coded this for demonstrative purposes:
- Bottom sheet is ORANGE
- Top sheet is BLUE
- Pillow is fuzzy teal (and yes it is a sock)
- Bedspread is PURPLE
#2
The first thing you do is remove the bedspread, and Mr. Lion. Perhaps you can give him movie money, or send him out for lattes. You are left with the bottom sheet, top sheet and pillow.
#3
The top sheet is now going to become your bottom sheet. Simply move the top of the blue top sheet to the head of the bed, underneath the pillow. The orange sheet is now hidden by the blue top sheet.
#4
Fold the bottom half of the blue sheet to the top of the bed (simulating top sheet). You will see the orange sheet, but only in this step. You will notice that this sheet is "short" now!
#5
Bring the bedspread back to the bed, place it on top of the blue sheet and fold the blue sheet over the top of the bedspread (just as you do when making a normal bed). This secures it.
#6
Walk away and snicker uncontrollably.
Your friend, parent, child or whomever's bed you chose to "short-sheet", will try to get into the bed as they normally do. The "short" top sheet (turned into both top and bottom sheet) will only allow them to get their feet a few feet into the bed and cause mass confusion.
A FEW IMPORTANT NOTES:
Don't attempt to do this to a drunk person. Trust me, it will be completely lost on them. I know this from experience.
If you are married, doing this to your spouse does not work, as you will ultimately be short-sheeting your own bed.
A seasoned professional (me) can perform this in mere moments.
If you are attempting this at home, please allow 5 minutes for the first time. Practice makes perfect. There is nothing worse than getting caught.
Now go out and short sheet all beds you can!
2.21.2008
I bought a car. On e-bay!
If you had told me 25 years ago that I would have bought an old grocery getter, I would have said you were crazy.
If you had told me 15 years ago that I would have bought a car on-line, sight unseen, I would have said you were crazy.
If you had told me 5 years ago that I would have bought a Mercury car product, older than myself, I would have said you were crazy.
Alright all you crazy people out there. I just bought a 1965 Mercury Comet Station Wagon on e-bay from a guy in Bethel, New York. A mere 2906.47 miles away from my home in San Luis Obispo, California. I have never seen it. I have never driven it.
I happen to think this a a brilliant move for Comet Realty. We will be known as “those people with that car!” Hopefully this doesn’t qualify as 15 Minute Lunch Guys description of Wanda Sykes as the Applebee’s Apple. I think it is slightly less annoying.
And just for the record, it IS driveable. At least I think it is. Purchased originally from a little old man who lived at the Grand Canyon all his life and then drove it out to New York. 18 times R/T, uphill, in the snow. Or maybe only once. Who knows? And then from a guy whose kids didn’t think the car was cool. At all.
Buying a car from e-bay is very interesting, indeed. They have a page where you can get driving directions from Google; an Expedia link to get a plane ticket to go out and get it; and a list of transport companies and what they charge to bring it on out here. And after the auction closes? Ebay then gives out your email and phone number to all the salesmen from transport companies so they can call you and e-mail you all day to see if you have already arranged transportation. If I had that prejudiced-Realtor-and-salespeople-hating gals phone number, I would have given out HER number. (AHA! Note to self: must do research).
I have a picture from the auction for you to check it out. You can see it is less ugly than the previous Comet station wagons. Someday it will be pearl white. Remember, it’s all about a moving billboard for Comet Realty.
I must have a name for it. Any suggestions will be appreciated and given my utmost consideration. When the car finally gets here (Transport company said 3 weeks), I will post more pictures and its new name. Stay tuned.
So much for instant gratification.
If you had told me 15 years ago that I would have bought a car on-line, sight unseen, I would have said you were crazy.
If you had told me 5 years ago that I would have bought a Mercury car product, older than myself, I would have said you were crazy.
Alright all you crazy people out there. I just bought a 1965 Mercury Comet Station Wagon on e-bay from a guy in Bethel, New York. A mere 2906.47 miles away from my home in San Luis Obispo, California. I have never seen it. I have never driven it.
I happen to think this a a brilliant move for Comet Realty. We will be known as “those people with that car!” Hopefully this doesn’t qualify as 15 Minute Lunch Guys description of Wanda Sykes as the Applebee’s Apple. I think it is slightly less annoying.
And just for the record, it IS driveable. At least I think it is. Purchased originally from a little old man who lived at the Grand Canyon all his life and then drove it out to New York. 18 times R/T, uphill, in the snow. Or maybe only once. Who knows? And then from a guy whose kids didn’t think the car was cool. At all.
Buying a car from e-bay is very interesting, indeed. They have a page where you can get driving directions from Google; an Expedia link to get a plane ticket to go out and get it; and a list of transport companies and what they charge to bring it on out here. And after the auction closes? Ebay then gives out your email and phone number to all the salesmen from transport companies so they can call you and e-mail you all day to see if you have already arranged transportation. If I had that prejudiced-Realtor-and-salespeople-hating gals phone number, I would have given out HER number. (AHA! Note to self: must do research).
I have a picture from the auction for you to check it out. You can see it is less ugly than the previous Comet station wagons. Someday it will be pearl white. Remember, it’s all about a moving billboard for Comet Realty.
I must have a name for it. Any suggestions will be appreciated and given my utmost consideration. When the car finally gets here (Transport company said 3 weeks), I will post more pictures and its new name. Stay tuned.
So much for instant gratification.
2.20.2008
2.18.2008
IMPROG: Stage (n.) is the word
IMPROG: Stage is the word
Today as I pulled STAGE out of Susan’s envelope, I could envision what she wanted me to write about. The reason I knew was because she told me to use it that way:
That, or she was trying to send me a message and I am supposed to figure out the key. She has done that before, so I wouldn’t put it past her! Hopefully she wasn’t trying to tell me she was trapped under something heavy and needed help, and she really wanted me to improg about a stage. The kind you stand and perform on.
Most of you who know me know me to be loud, obnoxious (in a really great way), funny, loud, and the center of attention. While this is true, I am also deathly afraid of public speaking.
The only way I can explain it is that if most people are listening to me in a room I can handle it. When all people are sitting down and staring at me waiting for me to say something brilliant (or stupid, or funny), I begin to freak out. My knees lock. My palms sweat. My fingernails dig into my palms. My eyelids sweat.
Today as I pulled STAGE out of Susan’s envelope, I could envision what she wanted me to write about. The reason I knew was because she told me to use it that way:
STAGE (n.)
That, or she was trying to send me a message and I am supposed to figure out the key. She has done that before, so I wouldn’t put it past her! Hopefully she wasn’t trying to tell me she was trapped under something heavy and needed help, and she really wanted me to improg about a stage. The kind you stand and perform on.
Most of you who know me know me to be loud, obnoxious (in a really great way), funny, loud, and the center of attention. While this is true, I am also deathly afraid of public speaking.
The only way I can explain it is that if most people are listening to me in a room I can handle it. When all people are sitting down and staring at me waiting for me to say something brilliant (or stupid, or funny), I begin to freak out. My knees lock. My palms sweat. My fingernails dig into my palms. My eyelids sweat.
Oh wait, I seem to be also describing one of my beloved hot flashes.
In my childhood, I can remember doing group activities on the stage (choir, volleyball), but when it came time to do a play at church, I was the first one to say that I would help with makeup and do the lights. This was right up my alley. I can still boss people around and be involved, but nobody is going to judge me.
Isn’t that what it is all about? Having people judge you. Worrying about what other people think about you.
When I was asked last year to participate in a show benefitting breast cancer (Sapphire Moon’s Ascending) I immediately said yes. Of course. Anything for the cause. I figured I would help write the acting parts, maybe help with makeup, lights, marketing, my usual stuff. I met with the director and the next thing I knew, I was not only writing, but acting in 3 numbers. I was in a daze and wondered how the hell that happened.
It was months of rehearsing and getting to know the parts (I have a different respect for performers after this). Then it was time to get up on stage. At first, during practice, it was people who were also on stage (mostly dancing) and had gotten to know me a bit, so there was some sort of familiarity. Then something happened. Stepping onto that stage, I wasn’t afraid. Nervous, yes, freaked out and scared, no.
It wasn’t about ME! There were 6 other women up there who were doing the same thing I was: delivering a message, performing, and helping the cause. One gal said it best when she said, “It’s all about the boobies.”
It was a sudden transformation, an inner make-over if you will. It didn’t matter what people thought about me. It didn’t even matter if I screwed up. They weren’t there to judge me harshly, or wonder what the hell I was doing on stage. They were there to support me and the cast, to be entertained and to raise money for breast cancer research.
And honestly, what is the worst that could happen? It’s not like I was going to be bald in front of people (the chemo already did that). It’s not like the people were going to wonder why I had gained weight (the steroids and the lack of estrogen in my body did that). It’s not like it was going to give me cancer (I already kicked breast cancer’s ass).
It was what alcoholics refer to as “a moment of clarity.”
It didn’t matter. We were all there for the same reason. To raise money for breast cancer research. Of course it also helps that when you are on a stage - the lights are blinding and you can’t tell if there is one person in the audience, or 100.
And now???? I applied to be the spokesperson for 2007 Susan Komen 3Day Events (of course, I didn’t get it, otherwise you would know about it). I will apply again if the opportunity comes up. I have just been asked to speak at the opening ceremonies for American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life in May. I even know what I am going to speak about.
The moral of the story???
The world is your stage.
In my childhood, I can remember doing group activities on the stage (choir, volleyball), but when it came time to do a play at church, I was the first one to say that I would help with makeup and do the lights. This was right up my alley. I can still boss people around and be involved, but nobody is going to judge me.
Isn’t that what it is all about? Having people judge you. Worrying about what other people think about you.
When I was asked last year to participate in a show benefitting breast cancer (Sapphire Moon’s Ascending) I immediately said yes. Of course. Anything for the cause. I figured I would help write the acting parts, maybe help with makeup, lights, marketing, my usual stuff. I met with the director and the next thing I knew, I was not only writing, but acting in 3 numbers. I was in a daze and wondered how the hell that happened.
It was months of rehearsing and getting to know the parts (I have a different respect for performers after this). Then it was time to get up on stage. At first, during practice, it was people who were also on stage (mostly dancing) and had gotten to know me a bit, so there was some sort of familiarity. Then something happened. Stepping onto that stage, I wasn’t afraid. Nervous, yes, freaked out and scared, no.
It wasn’t about ME! There were 6 other women up there who were doing the same thing I was: delivering a message, performing, and helping the cause. One gal said it best when she said, “It’s all about the boobies.”
It was a sudden transformation, an inner make-over if you will. It didn’t matter what people thought about me. It didn’t even matter if I screwed up. They weren’t there to judge me harshly, or wonder what the hell I was doing on stage. They were there to support me and the cast, to be entertained and to raise money for breast cancer research.
And honestly, what is the worst that could happen? It’s not like I was going to be bald in front of people (the chemo already did that). It’s not like the people were going to wonder why I had gained weight (the steroids and the lack of estrogen in my body did that). It’s not like it was going to give me cancer (I already kicked breast cancer’s ass).
It was what alcoholics refer to as “a moment of clarity.”
It didn’t matter. We were all there for the same reason. To raise money for breast cancer research. Of course it also helps that when you are on a stage - the lights are blinding and you can’t tell if there is one person in the audience, or 100.
And now???? I applied to be the spokesperson for 2007 Susan Komen 3Day Events (of course, I didn’t get it, otherwise you would know about it). I will apply again if the opportunity comes up. I have just been asked to speak at the opening ceremonies for American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life in May. I even know what I am going to speak about.
The moral of the story???
The world is your stage.
Dance as though no one is watching.
Love as though you've never been hurt.
Sing as though no one can hear you.
Live as though heaven is on earth.
2.16.2008
Nice prejudice, huh?
I had an experience last week that has been bugging me quite a bit. Since you know I don’t need therapy because I have a blog, you get to hear about it too!
Background:
Meanwhile, back to a few Saturdays ago:
I was hosting an open house for some clients of mine. We did a twist on this one and invited my seller’s friends and family to a special open house as well. One of the first clients through the door was a couple who were really nice when I introduced myself to them quite simply, “Hi. I’m Hayley.” As we began talking and she found out I was a real estate broker, you would have thought I told her that I had leprosy.
She was in the kitchen telling my sellers that they did a great job (which they did) and that if she were in a market for a house, this would be on the top of her list. She then stopped talking, looked me straight in the eye and said snottily, “But I’m NOT in the market, so don’t bother me.”
WOW. I was baking cookies that SHE was eating. I had bought bottled water that SHE was drinking. And I hadn’t said anything to her about the house, nor my company, nor my services.
I must have given her that “go-to-hell” look that I get (if you know me well, you know the look!) because she said, “It’s just that I HATE salespeople, especially realtors.”
I had been reduced to something she perceived as “bad”. It wasn’t the color of my skin. It wasn’t where I grew up. It wasn’t because I hadn’t gone to college. It wasn’t because I had cancer. It was simply because of my job.
And she let it be known that she hated me. I was so taken aback that I didn’t even have time to respond to her the way I wish I would have (curses, foiled again!) Thank goodness for blogs.
I can honestly say that if she called me today (or any other day) about finding her a house, or selling her current home, I would not help her. I might, however, refer her to Ms. I’m-Better-Than-Everybody - that annoying realtor that drives the BMW station wagon and thinks her shit doesn’t stink (see blog below). The two would probably hit it off perfectly, and they definitely deserve each other.
The best part of this? As she was walking out the door, and I was thinking to myself that she shouldn't let the door hit her in the ass on the way out, I made myself notice that she is Japanese-American. Nice prejudice, huh?
Background:
- In high school, I took Spanish, because my boyfriend's grandmother didn’t speak English.
- I moved to Arkansas my senior year in high school. I was told by one of the white kids that I was never going to be popular if I kept hanging out with the black people (guess which one I chose!)
- I don’t care what color my friends skin is, or where they are from, what their education is or what they do. The only requirement is that they make me laugh, or at least that they laugh at my jokes.
- I live in California.
- I am a Real Estate Broker (among other things). I’m good at what I do and pride myself on this.
Meanwhile, back to a few Saturdays ago:
I was hosting an open house for some clients of mine. We did a twist on this one and invited my seller’s friends and family to a special open house as well. One of the first clients through the door was a couple who were really nice when I introduced myself to them quite simply, “Hi. I’m Hayley.” As we began talking and she found out I was a real estate broker, you would have thought I told her that I had leprosy.
She was in the kitchen telling my sellers that they did a great job (which they did) and that if she were in a market for a house, this would be on the top of her list. She then stopped talking, looked me straight in the eye and said snottily, “But I’m NOT in the market, so don’t bother me.”
WOW. I was baking cookies that SHE was eating. I had bought bottled water that SHE was drinking. And I hadn’t said anything to her about the house, nor my company, nor my services.
I must have given her that “go-to-hell” look that I get (if you know me well, you know the look!) because she said, “It’s just that I HATE salespeople, especially realtors.”
I had been reduced to something she perceived as “bad”. It wasn’t the color of my skin. It wasn’t where I grew up. It wasn’t because I hadn’t gone to college. It wasn’t because I had cancer. It was simply because of my job.
And she let it be known that she hated me. I was so taken aback that I didn’t even have time to respond to her the way I wish I would have (curses, foiled again!) Thank goodness for blogs.
I can honestly say that if she called me today (or any other day) about finding her a house, or selling her current home, I would not help her. I might, however, refer her to Ms. I’m-Better-Than-Everybody - that annoying realtor that drives the BMW station wagon and thinks her shit doesn’t stink (see blog below). The two would probably hit it off perfectly, and they definitely deserve each other.
The best part of this? As she was walking out the door, and I was thinking to myself that she shouldn't let the door hit her in the ass on the way out, I made myself notice that she is Japanese-American. Nice prejudice, huh?
2.14.2008
IMPROG: Tired is the word
My word today is tired. This fits in so many ways! I know that Susan was tired when she wrote this word, and I happen to be exhausted today, too!
I have been going non-stop on projects, home sales, and phone calls!
The hard thing about being commission only, is that if you don’t work, you don’t make money. I find myself on the computer the second I get up (okay, so I stop to get a cup of coffee first), and end up checking my email last thing before I go to bed. It isn’t odd at all to find me on the computer when my husband comes home after he plays soccer at 9pm, even though I have been on it all day (since that first cup of coffee!!!)
Even though I end up doing a lot of surfing, blog reading, blog writing, playing on Facebook or MySpace, I still do lots of work. It varies between finding houses for my clients, trying to find a literary agent for this fantastic book that Susan and I have compiled, and trying to find time to write.
Last week, I got up early (for me) so that I could go on realtor caravan to see all the new houses that had been listed in SLO. There were about 15 that we wanted to see. Our buddy Zeena has this amazing property listed + she was serving breakfast, so we went there first to say hi, enjoy the view and have some of Z's homemade strata. This house is pretty spectacular - it is literally on top of the world in Avila Beach. The view is of the hill tops (which are green for right now), and you can even sneak a peek at the ocean from there. The weather was 65 degrees and spectacular. We hung out on one of the porches and just chatted with a few other Realtors who were also there. The drive up there is kinda hairball, as the road is one of those twisty turny things and on the way up there are a few of those big round mirrors, so you can see if anybody is coming around the corner. Perhaps that should have been a sign.
There is a certain RE Broker who shall remain nameless that showed up a bit after we did. She is one of those snotty Realtors (you know what I am talking about) who thinks she is better than everybody else. I wanted to push her off the porch and into one of the holes that had been dug to put a fruit tree in it, and then cover her up, much like a cat does with its poop. (Oops, did I just write that for all to see?)
Anyway, we decided to leave (plus we have 14 other houses to go to, if you remember from earlier in the story). One of our buddies was behind us. As bad as the road is to get to the top of the world, the driveway is nice and asphalted, but it is a one lane road. And twisty and turny. As we came around one of the turns, there was another Realtor trying to drive up the road. He was about 20 yards from the main road, and as easy as it would have been for him to back down, it would have been torture for us to back up (1/4 mile?). But he was cool, he had his truck and he decided to pull off one side of the road (our side was a drop off) and let us go by.
You need to know that it has been raining here quite a bit. And on top of the world there are natural springs that criss cross under the land. The second Dan's tire hit the mud, he sunk about 2 feet down and his car was very lopsided. In addition to the car being lopsided, he also couldn't get out and we were all stuck on a driveway at the top of the world. Luckily, the people who were there at the time were like "Oh well, at least it's a beautiful day and we have a terrific view." Even after the tow truck said it would be 45 minutes to come get him out. About that time, Ms. I’m-Better-Than-Everybody comes down in her little BMW station wagon to find us all stopped, and is looking pissed. When we told her what had happened, she did one of those really heavy sighs, said, "Well at least I have my books on tape and my cell phone, so I can make some client calls." Then she proceeded to roll up her window and stayed in her car for the next hour.
The rest of us were out laughing and joking and enjoying the day. I let my dogs out and they were running around. Ms. I’m-Better-Than-Everybody never even got out of her car, or even rolled down her windows again the entire time.
I trudged back uphill to the house for a pee break and some provisions, and brought some food back for the rest of us, but she never even looked in our direction. She just sat in her BMW with that pissy look on her face like she was SOOOOOO busy and couldn't be bothered. Now, we are all busy. But she just acts like she is the only one who is busy and can’t be bothered to stop.
So, that is the story about me getting stuck on top of the world with Ms. I’m-Better-Than-Everybody. She needs to stop and smell the roses. Or her shit, cuz I am pretty sure it stinks.
And in case you are wondering what this has to do with me being tired???? I realized, as I was sitting on top of the world, without a computer and not on my cell phone, I was tired. And I have not been taking advantage of all the world has to offer. And perhaps, I too, needed to stop and smell the roses.
I have been going non-stop on projects, home sales, and phone calls!
The hard thing about being commission only, is that if you don’t work, you don’t make money. I find myself on the computer the second I get up (okay, so I stop to get a cup of coffee first), and end up checking my email last thing before I go to bed. It isn’t odd at all to find me on the computer when my husband comes home after he plays soccer at 9pm, even though I have been on it all day (since that first cup of coffee!!!)
Even though I end up doing a lot of surfing, blog reading, blog writing, playing on Facebook or MySpace, I still do lots of work. It varies between finding houses for my clients, trying to find a literary agent for this fantastic book that Susan and I have compiled, and trying to find time to write.
Last week, I got up early (for me) so that I could go on realtor caravan to see all the new houses that had been listed in SLO. There were about 15 that we wanted to see. Our buddy Zeena has this amazing property listed + she was serving breakfast, so we went there first to say hi, enjoy the view and have some of Z's homemade strata. This house is pretty spectacular - it is literally on top of the world in Avila Beach. The view is of the hill tops (which are green for right now), and you can even sneak a peek at the ocean from there. The weather was 65 degrees and spectacular. We hung out on one of the porches and just chatted with a few other Realtors who were also there. The drive up there is kinda hairball, as the road is one of those twisty turny things and on the way up there are a few of those big round mirrors, so you can see if anybody is coming around the corner. Perhaps that should have been a sign.
There is a certain RE Broker who shall remain nameless that showed up a bit after we did. She is one of those snotty Realtors (you know what I am talking about) who thinks she is better than everybody else. I wanted to push her off the porch and into one of the holes that had been dug to put a fruit tree in it, and then cover her up, much like a cat does with its poop. (Oops, did I just write that for all to see?)
Anyway, we decided to leave (plus we have 14 other houses to go to, if you remember from earlier in the story). One of our buddies was behind us. As bad as the road is to get to the top of the world, the driveway is nice and asphalted, but it is a one lane road. And twisty and turny. As we came around one of the turns, there was another Realtor trying to drive up the road. He was about 20 yards from the main road, and as easy as it would have been for him to back down, it would have been torture for us to back up (1/4 mile?). But he was cool, he had his truck and he decided to pull off one side of the road (our side was a drop off) and let us go by.
You need to know that it has been raining here quite a bit. And on top of the world there are natural springs that criss cross under the land. The second Dan's tire hit the mud, he sunk about 2 feet down and his car was very lopsided. In addition to the car being lopsided, he also couldn't get out and we were all stuck on a driveway at the top of the world. Luckily, the people who were there at the time were like "Oh well, at least it's a beautiful day and we have a terrific view." Even after the tow truck said it would be 45 minutes to come get him out. About that time, Ms. I’m-Better-Than-Everybody comes down in her little BMW station wagon to find us all stopped, and is looking pissed. When we told her what had happened, she did one of those really heavy sighs, said, "Well at least I have my books on tape and my cell phone, so I can make some client calls." Then she proceeded to roll up her window and stayed in her car for the next hour.
The rest of us were out laughing and joking and enjoying the day. I let my dogs out and they were running around. Ms. I’m-Better-Than-Everybody never even got out of her car, or even rolled down her windows again the entire time.
I trudged back uphill to the house for a pee break and some provisions, and brought some food back for the rest of us, but she never even looked in our direction. She just sat in her BMW with that pissy look on her face like she was SOOOOOO busy and couldn't be bothered. Now, we are all busy. But she just acts like she is the only one who is busy and can’t be bothered to stop.
So, that is the story about me getting stuck on top of the world with Ms. I’m-Better-Than-Everybody. She needs to stop and smell the roses. Or her shit, cuz I am pretty sure it stinks.
And in case you are wondering what this has to do with me being tired???? I realized, as I was sitting on top of the world, without a computer and not on my cell phone, I was tired. And I have not been taking advantage of all the world has to offer. And perhaps, I too, needed to stop and smell the roses.
2.04.2008
DRIVE - Improg Word of the Day
Welcome to my improg. What’s an improg, you say?
IMPROV + BLOG = IMPROG
I have a hat full of little slips of paper, sent to me by my counterpart improgger, Susan. We are going to be doing random acts of blogging.
Rules for us: pull out a piece of paper and blog on whatever is on it.
Rules for you: read it, pass it on.
Want to get in on the action? Send a message to improg@CometRealty.com and our office administrator, Trixie, will get the ideas to us. Sometimes we will be blogging on the same topic, sometimes separate. At any rate, we are both funny and incredibly insightful, and you should put us in your favorites.
DRIVE…is the word of the day.
Odd, but for some reason when I read Susan’s suggested improg word, I kept hearing music. That would probably be because when I am driving by myself, I like the top down, pedal to the metal and the music really loud.
DRIVE, by the Cars comes to mind. Can you believe that was 1984? Incubus has a song called DRIVE. Can anybody forget the Beatles Drive My Car? REM did a DRIVE. Dave Matthews Band took it one step further and went Drive in, Drive Out. Blind Melon did a Drive. Garbage is going to Drive You Home and apparently they hooked up with QUEEN who was Driven By You. One of the best bands in the world – RUSH is Driven and Verve Pipe wants to Drive You Mild. Scorpions did a Drive. Ziggy Marley did a Drive (should he be driving?) Rob Halford also did a Drive, and Sting is Driven To Tears. Fixx is Driven Out and Ratt Drives Me Crazy. Sugar Ray did a Drive By and I couldn’t even begin to tell you what Alien Sex Fiend did. Beach Boys went to the Drive-In, possibly with Def Leppard who went to the Drive-In on Saturday. Foo Fighters Drive Me Wild, while Hootie & The Blowfish have Driver 8, which probably goes along with Chris Smither’s Drive You Home AGAIN. Johnny Cash is off to Drive On.
And so am I. Here is my plan: Make a new i-tunes play list with all the songs that have to do with driving. Then it’s top down, pedal to the metal, music really loud.
I’m going to drive! But first, I will get Lucy the dog off the trunk of my car, and into the front seat.
IMPROV + BLOG = IMPROG
I have a hat full of little slips of paper, sent to me by my counterpart improgger, Susan. We are going to be doing random acts of blogging.
Rules for us: pull out a piece of paper and blog on whatever is on it.
Rules for you: read it, pass it on.
Want to get in on the action? Send a message to improg@CometRealty.com and our office administrator, Trixie, will get the ideas to us. Sometimes we will be blogging on the same topic, sometimes separate. At any rate, we are both funny and incredibly insightful, and you should put us in your favorites.
DRIVE…is the word of the day.
Odd, but for some reason when I read Susan’s suggested improg word, I kept hearing music. That would probably be because when I am driving by myself, I like the top down, pedal to the metal and the music really loud.
DRIVE, by the Cars comes to mind. Can you believe that was 1984? Incubus has a song called DRIVE. Can anybody forget the Beatles Drive My Car? REM did a DRIVE. Dave Matthews Band took it one step further and went Drive in, Drive Out. Blind Melon did a Drive. Garbage is going to Drive You Home and apparently they hooked up with QUEEN who was Driven By You. One of the best bands in the world – RUSH is Driven and Verve Pipe wants to Drive You Mild. Scorpions did a Drive. Ziggy Marley did a Drive (should he be driving?) Rob Halford also did a Drive, and Sting is Driven To Tears. Fixx is Driven Out and Ratt Drives Me Crazy. Sugar Ray did a Drive By and I couldn’t even begin to tell you what Alien Sex Fiend did. Beach Boys went to the Drive-In, possibly with Def Leppard who went to the Drive-In on Saturday. Foo Fighters Drive Me Wild, while Hootie & The Blowfish have Driver 8, which probably goes along with Chris Smither’s Drive You Home AGAIN. Johnny Cash is off to Drive On.
And so am I. Here is my plan: Make a new i-tunes play list with all the songs that have to do with driving. Then it’s top down, pedal to the metal, music really loud.
I’m going to drive! But first, I will get Lucy the dog off the trunk of my car, and into the front seat.
2.02.2008
Simple easy ways to impress a landlord.
I have been a homeowner for quite some time. This is a good thing, since I am also a Realtor at times when I am not doing any of the other jobs I like to do (writing, decorating, entertaining).
One of my duties when I am being a Realtor is property management. I am a great landlord, and usually end up with great tenants. The lady from the Gas Company yesterday asked me how I pick a good tenant.
Here are few tips of what I (or any other decent landlord) might be looking for:
Well, let’s see, if you are going to email me, for crying out loud, spell MY name correctly, and try to get as many of the words in your email spelled correctly. I took first place in Riverview Elementary’s spelling bee, and if I am not mistaken, there is a flippin’ button for spell check, in case spelling isn’t your forte.
BTW, I understand that texting has somehow screwed up the English language, and we have our own little virtual shorthand, but you need to be aware that there are lengthier words that can be used on a computer. Especially when you are a potential renter. LOL.
If I give you the address of the house, chances are, the numbers are marked clearly on the house. Example: If it’s 123 Main Street, please don’t call me to ask if I mean the white house with the picket fence that is across from 140 Main Street. Chances are – if the numbers are not on the house you’re in front of – you are at the wrong place. Did I tell you that it was the white house with the picket fence that is across from 140 Main Street? Or did I give you the address – 123 Main Street? Listen carefully.
If you do come to view the property, and it isn’t for you, a simple, “Thanks, but no thanks” will do. I do not need you to tell me what problems there are with the place. You do not need to open and close every drawer – scoffing - if you have no intention of renting the place. This is not the Taj Mahal. Chances are good that the house wasn’t built yesterday with all the latest and greatest appliances.
Don’t be an asshole and say, “You’re asking HOW much for this dump?” Because I have 6 other people who would gladly step in a ring with the other 5 applicants, because they love the place. In fact, you are lucky I am considering you at all.
And another thing, if I tell you that I am having the electrical re-wired so that it works better in the room (and pointing to the plugs), you don’t need to point out that the electrical plugs are MIA. I just told you that. Listen carefully.
If the ad says that the house is available immediately, don’t tell me that you need a house in June. I am not going to just hand you cash for the next 3 months, simply because I think you might be a good tenant. If you are going to pay rent for the next few months, and then you want to move in, that is fine. But the world does not revolve around you. The ad didn’t say “house available in June”.
Spell check.
Listen carefully.
Don’t be an asshole.
Listen carefully.
Don’t expect me to “save” it for you.
Listen carefully.
In general? Don’t be stupid.
You only get one chance to make a first impression. Nobody likes an asshole.
Once you have passed these simple tests – you are a fantastic candidate for one of my rentals. Only then will I hand you an application so I can check references and do a credit check.
There you have it. Simple easy ways to impress a potential landlord. Doesn’t seem that hard, does it?
One of my duties when I am being a Realtor is property management. I am a great landlord, and usually end up with great tenants. The lady from the Gas Company yesterday asked me how I pick a good tenant.
Here are few tips of what I (or any other decent landlord) might be looking for:
Well, let’s see, if you are going to email me, for crying out loud, spell MY name correctly, and try to get as many of the words in your email spelled correctly. I took first place in Riverview Elementary’s spelling bee, and if I am not mistaken, there is a flippin’ button for spell check, in case spelling isn’t your forte.
BTW, I understand that texting has somehow screwed up the English language, and we have our own little virtual shorthand, but you need to be aware that there are lengthier words that can be used on a computer. Especially when you are a potential renter. LOL.
If I give you the address of the house, chances are, the numbers are marked clearly on the house. Example: If it’s 123 Main Street, please don’t call me to ask if I mean the white house with the picket fence that is across from 140 Main Street. Chances are – if the numbers are not on the house you’re in front of – you are at the wrong place. Did I tell you that it was the white house with the picket fence that is across from 140 Main Street? Or did I give you the address – 123 Main Street? Listen carefully.
If you do come to view the property, and it isn’t for you, a simple, “Thanks, but no thanks” will do. I do not need you to tell me what problems there are with the place. You do not need to open and close every drawer – scoffing - if you have no intention of renting the place. This is not the Taj Mahal. Chances are good that the house wasn’t built yesterday with all the latest and greatest appliances.
Don’t be an asshole and say, “You’re asking HOW much for this dump?” Because I have 6 other people who would gladly step in a ring with the other 5 applicants, because they love the place. In fact, you are lucky I am considering you at all.
And another thing, if I tell you that I am having the electrical re-wired so that it works better in the room (and pointing to the plugs), you don’t need to point out that the electrical plugs are MIA. I just told you that. Listen carefully.
If the ad says that the house is available immediately, don’t tell me that you need a house in June. I am not going to just hand you cash for the next 3 months, simply because I think you might be a good tenant. If you are going to pay rent for the next few months, and then you want to move in, that is fine. But the world does not revolve around you. The ad didn’t say “house available in June”.
Spell check.
Listen carefully.
Don’t be an asshole.
Listen carefully.
Don’t expect me to “save” it for you.
Listen carefully.
In general? Don’t be stupid.
You only get one chance to make a first impression. Nobody likes an asshole.
Once you have passed these simple tests – you are a fantastic candidate for one of my rentals. Only then will I hand you an application so I can check references and do a credit check.
There you have it. Simple easy ways to impress a potential landlord. Doesn’t seem that hard, does it?
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