Tag Archives: BFE

Wal-Mart. A Love Story.

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So I wrote this back in early December, and for reasons to be revealed in the blog post I couldn’t post it. Until now.

Happy New Year’s yall!!

– Peach

 

 

 

Every. Fricking. Time.

Today: found an item on my Christmas shopping list for the BFE at walmart.com and, since i was so late in ordering, decided the “site to store” option would secure my item at a good price and i would leisurely walk up to customer services and pick it up. Right?? Ha.

First thing: no where on the site does it tell you where the “site to store” desk is located. So i headed to customer service and stood behind a girl that was smacking her head.

 

 

If you’re not familiar with the Smack Technique, let me explain: when your scalp itches, you smack your head instead of scratching it, usually to avoid messing up your hair (weave/ wig) or, if you’re getting a perm/relaxer soon, as this avoids irritating the scalp. It’s a fairly ghetto thing to do, and i am ashamed to admit that after learning about it in college (where most of our worst habits as people are formed) i have been a hair smacking offender from time to time, in between relaxers. This girl wasn’t waiting on her next Dark n’ Lovely fix; she was slapping her head to avoid messing up her rather ratty weave ponytail. I was a bit intrigued, and found myself staring without really meaning to: how often do you get to see that kind of train wreck up close?? The only thing that finally drew my eye away was the long false nail of the customer service rep.

 

Ever find yourself in a situation so crazy that you start looking behind pillars and corners, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out and say “you’ve been punked”?? Only, that never happens, a: because you’re not a celebrity and b: because that show isn’t even on the air anymore. So there’s nothing left but to realize that real life can be truly, truly crazy.

 

So – Yep, the customer service rep had one of the longest set of false nails I’d ever seen, and was missing at least three of them. I got a pretty good look at them as she was waving them in the face of a guy I can only assume was her baby’s daddy – not because I’m falling prey to stereotypes, but because she was specifically yelling at him about not picking up their son when he knew the kid needed to be at football practice. Guy just stood there taking the verbal lashing while standing awkwardly in jeans and a construction worker vest. Poor man. Yes, this was all happening while I stood in line behind Smack Weave Girl.

 

When I finally got to the front, I found out that the Customer Services desk is not the same as the “Site to Store” desk, and that was located at the back of the store. Le sigh. I counted my losses and figured I’d come away with the start of a good blog ๐Ÿ™‚ and headed to the back of the store. Cutting through the men’s clothing section to save time and dodge the shopping carts, I got sniffed – yes, SNIFFED! – by a creeper near the men’s sweaters…

 

Finally reached the Site to Store section, which requires walking past the electronics section, and a display of the VERY ITEM I WAS THERE TO BUY (Call of Duty Black Ops II). Two things: 1 – I discovered that the Site to Store line is also the line for layaways at Christmas time, making for mass chaos. and 2 –ย  I couldn’t just forego the Site to Store line in favor or grabbing one of the games off the shelf, since I’d already paid for the other one online.

 

So I stood in line behind a woman wearing jeggings about a size too small, and watched another woman having a meltdown with her husband over a child’s pink ATV on layaway. Finally, I whipped out my phone and began to capture the entire experience. Got to the Smack Technique and realized that I couldn’t post this until I gifted the video game to the BFE unless I wanted to ruin the surprise. Le sigh again.

 

Oh, but the story doesn’t end there. One of the reasons I chose to pick up the game from Wal-Mart was because I also purchased the other half of BFE’s Christmas present – tickets to a hockey game – online, and selected the option to pick up hard tickets from, as Ticketmaster called it, a “retail location”. It wasn’t until I paid an extra $3.95 each that the website showed me that Ticketmaster’s “retail locations” for picking up tickets in my area were ALL Wal-Marts. So I thought I’d be smart and kill two birds with one stone, pick up the video game AND the tickets in one swoop. Too bad I picked the one Wal-Mart in my area that couldn’t print the tickets. So two days after my initial visit I found myself at another Wal-Mart, braving the crazy for my beloved BFE.

 

Get to the electronics section, since that’s where they print the tickets, and pass another display stand of Black Ops II games on my way to the cash register (the irony was not lost on me). The cashier prints my tickets… on receipt paper. I paid $3.95 for each ticket for RECEIPT PAPER!! What the hell?!?! Seriously??

 

I feel like Wal-Mart and Ticketmaster partnered together to jack me. Yes, JACK. ME! I ended up in Wal-Mart not once, but twice in the course of 3 days. I got entranced by a Customer Rep’s nails, watched the magical art of head smacking for ratty weaves, got sniffed by a creeper in the Men’s section, and finally got to investigate Jeggings up close. I didn’t even include the number of “pants on the ground” devotees I witnessed, and caught a guy checking out my rack. All in all, I think I got my Wal-Mart fill for the next 18 months. Until then, I return back to the safe, normal confines of Target, where all of the employees wear name tags and easily recognizable work-related clothing, and the only uncomfortable moments I’ve experienced have been hiding from Hot Doctor, walking into a stranger’s fart cloud, and stalking a Target employee named Bubba. Yep, Target, sweet Target.

 

Road Trip!!

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So…ย  with tomorrow being Thanksgiving , and the holiday season of traveling to and fro and visiting friends and family is about to begin! It got me to thinking back to about a month and some change ago, when I went home to Atlanta for a quick weekend jaunt, and the BFE and I took Ojeda with us.

 

God bless. It was a hot mess.

 

There’s something about guys – you out them in groups, and they conspire and join forces on the craziest sh!t. We left Orlando really early and I guess the early morning rush combined with their general loopiness to great a cacophony of mayhem and foolishness. Pretty early in I decided to journal all of the stuff that happened on our ride up – otherwise no one would believe it. So here it goes…

 

 

5:41 am – BFE and Ojeda come up with a new product that turns your farts into floral smells. They nominate me as the spokesperson and even come up with a commercial. The slogan: “do it with dignity”.

 

6:04 am – BFE drove and I played with Google Sky Map while the stars were still out. HOW HAVE I NEVER KNOWN ABOUT THIS APP?? So neat!

 

7:21 am – We stop at Mickey D’s. Ojeda argues with the cashier over coffee. Dude keeps asking him “How do you want your coffee?”, and O keeps responding, “with cream and sugar”, only to get a response from cashier dude ofย  “yes but how do you want it?”I could see O turning red and immediately add this event to our trip report.

They ask for a name for our order and I toy with the idea of giving them the name “Primrose Everdeen” so I could yell “I volunteer as tribute!” I know it’s cliche but I do not care.

 

9:04 am – While driving through Tifton, GA (the Reading Capitol of the World) and BFE gets cut off by a large SUV. We pass the vehicle, curious to look at the driver, and debate whether it was a redneck version of Pat from SNL or Honey Boo-Boos mama. Then BFE and O contest that Tifton, GA could not possibly be the reading capitol of the world. I tell them both to stfu.

 

9:20 am – BFE and O argue that computers have only 3 uses for guys: email, facebook and porn. Apparently girls only use computers for email, facebook and pinterest.

 

9:26 am – Pass an old, run-down farmhouse. Ojeda, my Southern-illiterate friend, asks, “is that a plantation?” I tell him to stfu. He asks if plantations are like haciendas. I tell him again: stfu. BFE giggles.

 

10:14 am – We argued over whether pandas and koalas are bears. Fact: koalas are marsupials and pandas are bears. Also discussed acid rain. For some reason, BFE mimics acid rain with a disco beat. Strange. He drives on in silence.

 

10:24 am – Stop at Pilot plaza outside of Macon for gas and bio break. I see a gas truck there. I point and laugh “Bahaha where do gas trucks get gas?!” No one laughs. Guys begin serious discussion of diesel versus gas, and fuel planes fueling mid-air, etc. I don’t understand how fuel planes are more interesting than my gas truck joke. Boys suck.

 

10:36 am – B asks whether to take 75 N through Macon or 475 around Macon. After much debate we decide to take 75 N. O jokes, “you know whichever route we take it is going to be the wrong one!” Immediately the speed limit drops from 65 to 55. B’s all like, “we should have taken 475!” I think he just said that to be on O’s side. Just sayin.

 

10:41 am – Pass sign that says in all caps “lust drags you to hell”. Ain’t that the truth. Interesting change from all the anti-abortion signs, “truck driver lounge/ massage” advertisements and stripper billboards that you usually see in South GA and North FL.

 

10:51 am – Learned something new today. B and O argue about the origin of mobile homes. B says mobile homes are called such because they are from Mobile, AL. O insists it is because they are mobile. Research on the snopes.com website confirms that D is correct.

 

11:00 am – Ojeda reads myths from snopes.com and we guess whether they’re true or false. We’re obviously running out of material.

 

11:40 am – Traffic slows for accident. Ojeda rolls down window and signals to driver driving Dodge Caravan in next lane to see if we can get over. Driver looks at him and then stares straight ahead, continuing to edge forward with no knowledge of O’s request. String of 4 letter words ensues. Once we pass accident BFE floors it to stream past Dodge Caravan dude while I fist pump in the air. I didn’t see it but suspect that Ojeda flipped him off.

 

12:04 pm – Finally – THANK YOU SWEET BABY JESUS! – we arrive in Atlanta. Ojeda yells “ATL Dirty South B!tches!!!! …Oh mylanta!”ย  out the window with complete abandon. We check in on Facebook at the Pink Pony South. We have arrived!

Pants Off… Everyday! Oh, Pink Tutus and a Peeping Tom too.

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So Pants Off Friday has kinda blown up into a clothing-free explosion! I am no longer restricted to just Fridays. Now it’s Pants Off Wednesday, Sunday, Thursday. Honestly, the only time I can guarantee full dress is when company is coming over. Right now I’m chilling on the couch in my pajama dress, trying not to resort to full Pants Offย  Thursday. I have no idea when I bother. Just embrace my nature, right???

 

What’s new in the world of the Peach and the BFE… well, the BFE is working hard and loving his job, which is super awesome!! It’s wonderful to see him to happy and enjoying what he does. You can’t wish for more for someone, except maybe to hit the jackpot! We are going to a hockey game next week, which we’re both really excited about. I’m looking forward to beers!!! and fistfights on the ice! He’s a fan of the Tampa Bay Lightning, and I went to my first hockey game ever last week. It was a HOT MESS. I might write a post on my experience, so stay tuned. Any sport where the spectators can yell “beat his a$$!” while one player pummels another is alright in my book.

 

I started a new job recently, and it’s been crazy! I like it because it’s challenging and puts me out outside of my comfort zone. It’s forcing me to use my brain in ways I haven’t in a while… I’m back in a hotel, and having to think from a different perspective, speak to strangers, and not use the f-word quite so much. An added bonus is I get my own office!! which I plan to decorate for the holidays. I have a 3-foot tree with lights and decorations, and I even have an “apple spice and delight” scented candle in my office right now. Next I’ll bring in a gingerbread scented one!

 

Yes, I have an office! It’s exciting and lovely and I enjoy it. I’ve hung Audrey Hepburn pictures on the walls, and brought in nick-nacks, doo-dads and my little Travelocity Gnome to grace my bookshelves. When it’s not the holiday season I have a cotton candy scented candle that a friend gave me that makes the whole officeย  – and it’s primary resident (me) – smell like cannnndy! Although this breaks my cardinal rule – that big girls should NEVER smell like food – the effect is quite pleasant.

 

Candles are good for not just setting the mood, but also battling the one weird problem i my office. There’s a weird dog-food type odor near my desk, like someone mixed kibbles n’ bits together with kashi cereal (which is the consistently and flavor of dry cat food) and left a bowl of this mixture under my desk for my personal pleasure.

 

At least three times a day I find myself sitting in my office, working on BEOs and then… *sniff sniff* “where’s is that coming from?” I stop my work, and climb under my desk looking for the answer. I look crazy doing this, but what’s new. My co-workers should get a taste now of who they are working with. To date, I haven’t found the kashi-kibbles mix, just an old calendar and some post-it notes and a Cheerio, which I think is mine. Nevertheless, I know it’s there somewhere, taunting me. And ruining the effect of my holiday sensory experience.

 

Um… so yeah… I guess if that’s my biggest complaint on my new office I’m doing ok! The only thing missing from my office right now is the “emergency flask”… if you know what I mean.

 

What else is new? Sorry I haven’t posted in a while! The job offer and subsequent change happened really quickly, and right as the BFE and I were planning a weekend trip to Atlanta to visit the fam. We ended up taking Ojeda so he could have his first “Hotlanta” experience, and to go to a Baptist Church for the first time. Our trip, as it turned out, was over Pride Weekend, which added it’s own element of hilarity to the whole weekend. Our hotel overlooked Peachtree Street so we had a great view of the festivities. I understand that the guys especially enjoyed the parade of pink tutus on Saturday afternoon, while I was getting dressed. ๐Ÿ™‚

 

This was my first trip home where I didn’t leave feeling really homesick and ready to plot my move back to Atlanta. I think we’re finally settling into a groove here in Orlando, and it feels like home, which is nice. Getting our own place – the BFE and I – really helped. It was a bonus for my pants-free habits, but also a really sweet little “nest” for us. It’s feels like our place.

 

Speaking of our place, our bedrooms windows are perfect for spying on our neighbors! We live catercorner to a super cute gay couple, and I enjoy spying on their entertaining and outgoing social life. Hey, it’s not wrong… it’s happening right outside my window. Which I have the blinds closed to. While I stare unabashedly to find out what’s going on. With the lights off so they can’t tell I’m a Peeping Tom. In my opinion it’s their bad for keeping their windows open! And being so loud when they fight.

 

The other night around 11pm they were arguing in the courtyard, and one of them stormed upstairs to pack up his things and leave. BFE and I were already in bed (we’re such an old couple, I mean, 11 pm and in bed? really???) but we woke up to someone shouting “dont f#cking touch me!” BFE gave me the play by play while I relaxed in bed. It was a nice bonding experience for us… stogether.

 

Hey don’t judge. every couple has their hobbies.

 

In unrelated news I just realized that my nightgown that I put on while enjoying Pants-Off Thursday is actually on inside out. I’ve been wearing it for 3 and a half hours and just now noticed. I think that’s a sign to log off now.

 

More posts to come again soon! Y’all miss me?

The Badass, The Mushroom and The Little Guy

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Sliding into my seat at the Mellow Mushroom tonight, I looked around at my friends Reyes, Love and Bryce and just giggled. I was giddy with the story I needed to tell them, and eventually that giggling turned into full on laughter as I started the story:

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A few days ago while having lunch with my friend Stee she tells me a story about the newest guy in her life… apparently their love was “forbidden”. Well forbidden by company policy at least, and she accidentally spilled the beans to some of her work friends during a drunken night out.

Bear in mind, my friend Stee is one of the most badass people I know – she’s not afraid of anything, speaks her mind without hesitation. She always makes me laugh with the stories she tells about life, boys and work. At our engagement dinner, she had me cackling with her description of how break a guy’s car windshield without getting caught by using a brick tied to a rope. I’ve never asked her how she seems to have first hand knowledge of this particular how-to skill, I just take it all in as part of the Stee Package. The Stee Package is full of unexpected hilarity and by proxy, adventure. So when she starts to tell me a story, I listen, because I know it’s going to be good. There’s also the chance that I’ll learn a new how-to skill. :p

According to her, the gaffe where she blurts out her new dating status came about after her work friends kept talking about the new Moroccan guy, not knowing that they were together… she got irritated after hearing them say over and over:”he’d be so cute if only he were taller”.

I stopped her there. “What do you mean… if he were taller?”

She gave me a funny look. “He’s a little… short.”

“Ok. So? How short?”

“Um… 4’11?”

….?

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I paused in telling my story to my friends at the Mellow Mushroom to gauge their reaction, and just as I thought, they proved why they are my friends. They laughed. Lord help us all, they laughed. Ever since Stee told me this story earlier in the week, I’d been holding in my laughter, knowing that by laughing any more than I already had that I was proving that I was pretty horrible! Granted, I’d already proven I was a horrible person, because of what happened after Stee told me his height:

“I’m sorry, did you say 4’11?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

I began howling like a hyena. “Because that makes him a little person! You’ve been hooking up with a little person! That’s hilarious!” I continued laughing until I cried. gasping for air, tears squeezing out of my eyes.

“Shut up!!! He’s not a little person!” Then she said the immortal words that sent me over the edge: “Stop making fun of my little man!”

The did it for me. I was screaming, knees buckling, laughing all of the air out of my lungs. We were standing in the restaurant parking lot, and I braced myself on the trunk of her car to keep from falling down with convulsions of laughter. It wasn’t his size that made me laugh, it was just the irony of it all. Of course, she would be the one to hook up with a little person from Morocco! To see her indignant look was all too much. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I have nothing against… little people. I have the utmost respect for them. It’s just that you were 5 foot 9, and he’s 4 foot 11. How is it that you never told me about this guy??”

“It’s no big thing – it’s not like we’re dating or whatever. I’m getting transferred to another city, so we always knew it was only temporary. I just don’t see the big deal.”

“Ok, ok, fine. I’ll respect your … little relationship… bwahahahahaha!” I just couldn’t help myself. “You’re hooking up with a little person!”

“He’s not that little! He comes up to here”, indicating the base of her nose. “I only have to bend down this far to kiss him… see?” She inclined her head down, as if ducking under a low doorway. It looked like she was trying to break her own neck. I just laughed harder, if that was even possible.

I begged her to let me blog about it. “Don’t make fun of me and my little guy!”

I tittered, “can that be the title of my blog?” She ignored me. I laughed some more.

By this point we’d made our way into the restaurant for lunch, and had taken a seat. I was determined to compose myself and finally pulled it together. We chatted about other topics, and things were back in track until Stee started looking over my shoulder with a funny look, then looking at me, then back over my shoulder. Finally, I look over my shoulder and see… a littler person waiting to be seated with some friends. I looked at Stee, and she burst into laughter. It’s like he’d been placed there, at that moment, in that restaurant just to drive home the point. We are horrible people.

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When elating this story to my friends at the dinner table, I was a little nervous that they would think I was a horrible person, but as I told them the story, they responded as only my friends would: by laughing like howler monkeys. I turned to Reyes, telling her that I’d been worried all week about telling any of my friends, in the event that they would think me a horrible person. Earlier in the week, I’d told the BFE about about it, adding that I planned to blog about it. Being the kind, good-hearted half of me that he is, the BFE cautioned me against it, since some people might be offended. At dinner tonight Reyes reminded me that I’m not friends with any of those people. All of my friends would find it funny.

I explained that I wasn’t sure how to tell the story, as much as I wanted to share it with others. How to relate the details? To give the gist and cadence of our conversation? Telling it as I told my friends at dinner tonight was the only thing that made sense.

I don’t know why but after relating my story to my friends I relaxed and smiled. I think it’s knowing that I have such appalling friends that would laugh at my story really made me feel better. I know – I’m terrible for laughing at my friend’s shenanigans, and there will be some people reading this that will be appalled and offended by my post. All I can say to that group is that at some point, everyone has a moment of political incorrectness, and if they’re lucky, they’ll have friends around to laugh at them and tell them it’s okay.

Two things came out of this: I have exactly the kind of friends I should have, and love & attraction can be found anywhere, even between the badass and the little guy.

Pants Off Friday

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There is an event that I look forward to every week: Pants Off Friday.

Now that BFE and I are living in our own place sans roommates, I look forward to it even more. Before, I could only celebrate my peculiar holiday when no one else was home or while confined to my bedroom. Now I have the full run of our place! It’s exhilarating!! Some people find my excitement strange, and just further indication of my weirdness. I find it a relaxing ritual that expresses my freedom: freedom from the work week, freedom from prying eyes, and more importantly… freedom from PANTS.

 

The Rules of Pants Off Friday are simple:

1 – Get home, shut door.

2 – Take off pants.*

3 – Relax on seating arrangement of your choice: couch, floor, bed.

 

*Replacing pants with shorts is option. Some people choose to celebrate Pants Off Friday by just chillaxin’ in their skivvies.ย ย ย  Whatever you do, PLEASE AT LEAST WEAR UNDERWEAR. I can’t believe I have to even say that, but when I’ve explained POF (short for Pants Off Friday) to a few people they’re aghast at the idea of just sitting on the couch naked. That’s not what POF is about! Have some decency people!!

 

Some people celebrate Pants Off Friday with microphones. I choose pizza :p

 

Anyway, as you can see, the nature of Pants Off Friday is pretty simple. After a hard week at work, I just think of it as a natural state of being… the ultimate relaxation. ๐Ÿ™‚

So this is how it goes: Friday afternoon, I rush home, take off my pants and relax. That’s pretty much it. It’s like my own little mini-break. Sometimes I’ll go “all the way” and have dinner while celebrating Pants Off Friday – usually it’s pizza, Chipotle or Cheerios. ๐Ÿ™‚

 

Pants Off Friday is also a judgement-free zone. I don’t give a flying fart in space if people think it’s weird – those are the folks that need to celebrate it the most! Worrying about whether people think it’s weird will only just ruin POF a little bit. Self-conscious about sharing your weekly celebration with your neighbors? Close the blinds. Think the pizza delivery guy might be judgy? Throw on some sweats when paying for your pizza when he arrives. Once you shut the door, pants back off my friend, and the celebration continues!!

 

Last night, I celebrated Pants Off Friday in a big way: pantsless while enjoying a giant cupcake and mac & cheese from Whole Foods and watching Anna Faris in the movie “What’s Your Number?” (By the way, who knew that cupcakes and mac & cheese made with unbleached wheat flour could be so tasty??) After that I passed out in a food come while watching “10 Things You Don’t Know About FDR” on the History Channel.ย  Around 10:45 I woke up, cleaned up my “couch nest” created from my work clothes, cupcake wrappers, cell phone charger cable (my phone was dying during POF), blankets and Whole Foods containers. Then I stumbled off to bed. Another Pants Off Friday appropriately celebrated. ๐Ÿ™‚

 

The more I talk to people about POF, the more I’m slowly converting the masses. Who wouldn’t want to relax pants-free in the comfort and privacy of their own home? The idea really resonates with people!

 

Admit it. You’re thinking about celebrating Pants Off Friday right now, aren’t you?

 

Go ahead, I won’t judge.

 

Welcome to the couch nest my friend. ๐Ÿ™‚

Messy Jessy is here!

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Trying to not pee in my pants from excitement!I’ve been waiting for this weekend for like, 2 months.

 

It’s like Christmas! Only the presents are people (and krispy kreme donuts)!

 

Messy Jessy is here!!!

 

 

 

Mess, along with my mom and my sisters are spending the weekend with me so that we can go wedding dress shopping and also scope outย  bridesmaid dresses! I am so excited! It feels like I’m truly beginning to get wedding planning underway.

 

My fam is on their way and should be tonight. Fortunately Mess came down a little early, so we have an afternoon of just BFF time. We’ve started the weekend with a carb fest – lunch at Zaxby’s and a Krispy Kreme drive -through run. After that, a stop at Publix for food to feed the troops and BOOZE! Booze is always the cornerstone of any great girls’ weekend.

 

Right now we’re drinking “adult capri suns”. i.e. these Seagrams Escapes – Frozen Sangrias and Daquiris, while watching Say Yes to the Dress!! I said the immortal words that everyone says as they start to get old: “I just can’t drink like I used to”. Such a sad thing to say. Fortunately, Messy J is right there with me and we slowly booze our way through the afternoon, while waiting for BFE to get off work and chauffeur us to Food Truck Friday.

 

I am feeling pretty mellow and happy right now, like my world is spinning just the way it should… I’m getting married to the love of my life, my best friend and mom and sisters are coming to visit, and my house is stocked with frozen sangrias, champagne and krispy kremes.

 

My cup of joy is overflowing ๐Ÿ™‚

 

Happy Weekend!!

 

oh! and follow me on Twitter – @sunburntpeach ๐Ÿ™‚

Let the Buyer Beware!

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Ok, I’m writing this because I need to get it out. I’m not sure if ANYTHING about this post is going to be very humorous.

 

About 5 years ago, I was living with my current roommates in a house that’s actually right around the corner from where we are now… and we LOVED out house. We were renting from this realtor guy, who, even though he was a bit weird, seemed alright.

 

Fast forward about 2 and a half years, and we surprisingly get SERVED foreclosure papers at our door one night. Seems that Mr. Realtor guy was taking our rent and not using it to pay the mortage. According to the papers he hadn’t made a payment in over 6 months.

 

We tried to get out of our situation then, but he turned into a bully, threatening to sue us, citing parts of the rental contract and twisting them to his RANDOM interpretation. After talking amongst ourselves, we decided to stick it out for another few months, until the end of the lease.

 

Things rapidly got worse. Our landlord Mr. Realtor guy decided to file for bankruptcy, and in the process included all of his rental properties, citing that they were empty. We were given less than a month to get out, and had a hard time finding a house to rent at the last minute.

 

When this house came up for grabs, we thought ourselves fortunate! Right around the corner from our current place! Lower rent! More space! The owner seemed like a nice guy and was very empathetic when we told him that we why we were in such a hurry. We though we’d found the perfect arrangement and settled into our new home.

 

We’ve been here about 2 and a half years now, and really feel connected with the neighborhood and the community. Bee and I started looking for our own place to rent once the lease would be up in December and wanted to stay pretty close. With saving for the wedding AND saving for a new place we’d outlined a strategy to get both things done without breaking the bank.

 

Things were fine until we got SERVED (!!!!) in March of this year. Turns out our landlord was going into foreclosure! We were in the the same situation again!!! As you can imagine, this did not sit well with me or my roommates. We became panicked and paranoid, scrambling to make sense of it all. After confronting our landlord with the truth, he explained that he wanted to remodify his mortgage; these days the banks won’t even talk to you about that unless you’re a few months behind on your mortgage. He assured us that all was well, and after renegotiating the rent down to a slightly lower price, we agreed to stay until the end of the year, when our lease would be up.

 

My heart rate and stress level was finally subsiding back down to its usual level of mania when the phone call came: our landlord wants to put the house up for short sale! With the intention of somehow buying it back!

 

How could it get to this point? What made my landlord think that this was a good idea? Or that his tenants would stick around during this process. I feel so effed by it all, and worst of all, somewhat powerless and I hate that. A very large part of me is super pissed that we’re being put in this situation, part of me is in awe at the sheer ridiculousness of my landlord’s decisions to let things get this far. And a not-so tiny bit of me is also pleased.

 

With all of this going on we’re now contemplating moving out WAYYYY ahead of schedule – August, in fact. Bee and I have been looking at apartment complexes, trying to find one in the area that works for us, and will be our first nest together. ๐Ÿ™‚ What sucks is… EVERYONE is looking for apartments right now too.

 

It’s funny – now that the housing market is going through all this drama people are choosing NOT to rent from private owners, but are turning to apartments and management companies instead. Bee and I are not ready to buy a home, and I know we’ll be renting for a few years yet, and I hate that we’re now so suspicious of rental properties managed by the owners. For a long time the law was on the side of the owners, but now more laws are coming out to protect the tenants, yet I feel that not enough is being done. It’s hard and unfair – if I don’t work out a reasonable deal with my landlord, I’m at risk of “breaking” my lease… even though he’s the one not paying bills. Does that seem crazy to anyone but me? That I’m stuck in someone else’s mess? The process server for the foreclosure has already been by twice. Now we have to accommodate realtors wanting to show the house.

 

On the flip side, I am more than a little excited that our plans to get our own place together are being sped up. I am looking forward to living in my own place, where I can sit in the living room on the couch in my underpants, eating oatmeal for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and not worrying that my roommate is going to unexpectedly bring home a gaggle of people while I’m enjoying Pants Off Friday.

 

I also won’t have to worry about lawn care. Bee and I enjoy gardening but I’m pretty sure I’ll like a container garden just as well… less ants, less bagworms (WTF?!?), less pesticides to worry about… no more haggling with lawn care companies to cut my grass before it becomes the neighborhood eyesore. It got so bad recently that parents wouldn’t let their kids walk on the sidewalk by our house… they’d quickly usher them across the street. If I was wlaking out of the front door at the same time my neighbor was backing out of his garage, I’d scurry back in until he’d left. Last week’s community garage sale was the worst. I wanted to check out all the wares, but didn’t want to leave through the front door, ’cause then everyone would know that I belonged to “that house”. Until our new lawn care guy bravely ventured in and mowed the yard, I was pretty sure Bambi and his friends were moving into our front yard. I swear I saw forest creatures frolicking around my hibiscus bush the other day. NOT COOL.

 

Another nice thing will be cheaper power bill! Yippee!!! Our current power bill would make you nauseous. Seriously. It’s pretty bad in the summer. Water will be less, and the likelihood and me having to run down the street chasing my trash guys in my pajamas is fairly unlikely.

 

One final super cool thing about getting a new place: a toilet seat that’s never been sat on by another butt. I didn’t realize how important this could be until a friend pointed it out. How tantalizing!

 

It will be weird adjusting to a small place, but I’m pretty sure me and Bee will make it cozy and welcoming… not only for ourselves, but our friends too.

 

We planned for such a long while about moving in to a new place together, and now it’s coming, whether we like it or not. We’re getting pushed head over heels into this new awesome change. If you know me, you know I HATE change. So why am I so pumped for this massive shift in my world???