Timely matters

I have a(nother) pet peeve. I know you're thinking to yourself, How odd! Today's pet peeve comes to you from month end and the hellishness it can be even in a crappy market where people are being laid off left and right and nothing ever closes. It's called tardiness. No, you know what? It's called being late.

I can forgive a couple of minutes. We had some brief torrential downpours yesterday and since the branch I am at right now is situated off quite possibly the worst highway on the planet (217) where for some inexplicable reason people get on it and just throw their car into park, people are going to hit some traffic snares here and there and perhaps run just a few minutes behind. Sometimes there is no avoiding that. But late? Like by 20 or 30 minutes? Or, as in my yesterday 3 o'clock, 3 hours? Inexcusable.

Are you late for your doctor's appointment? No. Even though they keep YOU waiting for an hour after you check in, you wouldn't DREAM of being late for your doctor. How about jury duty? Or traffic court? No. Because you know that if you don't show up on time they throw you out and that's not a good thing at all.

So what makes you think that when I set an appointment for you to come close on the purchase or refinancing of your house there's no real commitment to actually showing up on time? Do you think you are the only one with an appointment? Do you not get that when you do this kind of stuff, especially at month end, a whole bunch of OTHER people are doing it too, so the odds of you having the only appointment of the day are slim? Generally speaking we make appointments at hour intervals, and at month end it is the norm to have back to back appointments. When you show up for your 1pm at 1:30 you just made my 2pm, my 3pm and my 4pm all late. Why is your time more valuable than theirs?

I've had people show up 45 minutes late and told them to wait until after my next appointment, also sitting waiting patiently in the lobby, but 15 minutes EARLY, for us to get started. Respect the appointment time. Because frankly, it won't impact MY life if you don't reduce your current interest rate or get to move in on Friday. Honestly. It doesn't.

Yesterday my 3pm (a simple seller signing, should take roughly 15 minutes) called at 3:30 to say he was running behind (really? I hadn't noticed) and could he come at 5pm. It's month end, so after a heavy sigh (off-camera, of course) I agreed. By 5pm I was exhausted and weak from blood loss and had already had a long day, but what the heck, it's a seller, I can knock this out. But 5pm came and went and at 5:30 he called to say he was on Hwy 217, he'd be there any minute. "Any minute" turned out to be "Any 45 minutes" and sure enough, in he strolled at 6:15. Hi! Can I get you some coffee or water?! Or would you prefer to just TAKE MY LIFE, THE LIFE I HAVE OUTSIDE OF THIS OFFICE, SINCE YOU CLEARLY DON'T CARE THAT I HAVE ONE?!

And then of course he read. Everything. So it was a simple seller signing that ended at around 7pm, you know, when I should have already been home from the mall and the Rite Aid, and comfy-cozy in sweats, done with dinner and petting my kitties.

I'm just asking for a little consideration. You may not understand what I do, and you undoubtedly forget me once you leave the building, but I AM a pretty important part of the whole real estate transaction situation, considering I'm the one that handles your money and records the deed to your house. Try to remember too that although most of the time I enjoy what I do, I also enjoy going home like everyone else. Being home allows me to recharge and forget about work for a few hours and enjoy the fruits of my labor. So I can come back in tomorrow morning and paint on a smile for you.

A shot in the arm

Yesterday I found myself loitering in the lobby of the branch I was working in, chatting with a few coworkers, when one of them mentioned she was on the way downtown to the KOIN to get her flu shot. First American pays for a flu shot every year, but I never get them. I never get sick, so what's the point? Actually, I SAY I never get sick, but I think last year I may have gone home early a couple of times feeling poorly. I block stuff like that, so I'lll continue to say I never get sick. Deal with it.

Anyway, the idea caught like wildfire (more like a tiny little brush fire - there were only two others up at the desk at the time) and before I knew it I was roped in to going downtown and getting one myself.

Having never had one, I was a little bit concerned about the reaction I might have, not to mention the assumed pain of a shot in the arm, but like a trooper, I piled into Nicky's rig along with Amanda and Robin, and off we went on a little field trip.

The line to get in was pretty long, thus prolonging the anxiety a little bit, but before long we were ready to go. Channel 6 news (KOIN) is IN the KOIN Tower (really?) so of course as we approached the nurse, in walks a camera man with his gear. Sets up. Ready to go when it's my turn.

He asks me if he can film me getting my shot. I tell him I haven't had a shot in roughly fifteen years (well, not THIS kind of shot anyway) so I couldn't be responsible for any knee-jerk reactions, but sure, why the hell not? So he did. I don't have the greatest arms on the planet, but he was zeroing in pretty close and I suppose I should just trust his artistic abilities. Plus it was the second time one of my body parts was featured in a news story, so at least that resume is expanding.

As for the shot, I didn't even feel it. I did, however, feel like complete poo last night, but I googled "Does the flu shot give you the flu?" and found that it's just a myth that you can get sick from it. My mind is a pretty convincing thing so maybe I just talked myself into it. Or maybe it's because my monthly is a flipping raging bitch right now. I'm guessing it's the latter.

I don't watch the news (don't get me started) so I have no idea if my arm enjoyed its 15 minutes last night. And since I have never had a flu shot before and never get sick, here's hoping it doesn't happen this year.

Absolutely nothing (except good video)

Seriously, I can't think of anything to write.

Usually my head is full of all kinds of thoughts, irritants, pet peeves, funny memories, anecdotes, fluff. This morning? Nothing. Blank. I even tried to read some old posts to see if I had a thought somewhere in one of them that went off on a tangent and never came back around. Nothing.

Usually too when I start typing something like I typed above something else comes to me, since I am, after all, Tangent Girl. And STILL nothing. I can't even imagine what kind of conversations I am going to have today. I sure hope nobody is expecting anything earth-shattering because it clearly isn't happening.

Fuck it. I'll just post this video from GoDucks.com. I'm still feeling really good about the Ducks' win Saturday (and the obvious fact that they read my brief letter from the other day).

Enjoy.
*** Removed the video because it fucked up my layout***

Go Ducks

Dear Ducks -

We've had worse seasons and I lived. I'll live through this one. All I am asking you to do today is show up.

Love,

TtheD

Follow up - 8:43pm (but only because I've been on the phone for the last 2 1/2 hours): Apparently it worked. Those of you who don't think I have that kind of power should pay a little bit more attention now.

Spontaneity combusts

So I almost took a stab at spontaneity this week and flew to meet some friends. On a whim. No thought to order and routine. Just throw some shit in a bag and fly away.

Almost.

My friend phoned earlier in the week, and wanted to know if I felt like taking a trip to see him and his wife. My first response was, Yeah, no, I just paid for my condo in Mexico. Turns out he was giving up a voucher from one of his frequent trips, and my spending would be minimal. Like next to nothing. Like maybe I'd be buying them some beers or something. I was intrigued.

He found some good flights. He and his wife were having friends over on Saturday night, and he thought it would be fun to surprise her. I asked for Monday off, and got it. I made arrangements for rides to the airport. Then he phoned the next day and told me the not-so-great news: He had been checking flights for the wrong week.

Now with two days to plan, things were looking grim. The planets weren't aligning in our favor and there is no way I could have left work early on Friday. Only options truly available were on Delta, and after this experience, oh my hell I am never flying Delta again. Go back and read the dang thing, you won't either.

I think it's a pretty good step in the right direction, though, almost taking a spontaneous trip for the weekend, just to drink beer with some friends. Even though I thought about how much I'd miss the kitties, or how I might not be able to watch the Duck game Saturday (Cal!), I was still totally going to do it.

I think that counts. It's good enough for me.

Crap

Much going on but no real motivation to spill it out here. Sometimes you have weeks like that. Work is fine, for once it isn't really the amount of work (and the often times horrificness that goes with it) that is stressing me out. It's all the other crap. And there is plenty of other crap.

Some crap I have to deal with, have to think about, have to act on, like it (hate it!) or not. That kind of crap sucks the life force out of me. Other crap I can't do anything about and so therefore I manage to successfully push it to a far corner of my brain (thing about far corners of the brain, though, is that they are still there, still visible, and sometimes the stuff you push there creeps back to center stage, like in the middle of the night, or when you're driving, or maybe all of a sudden in the middle of the day, and you didn't even notice it creeping back, and suddenly it kind of hits you, and you think, shit, what am I going to do about THAT, but then you remember that you can't do anything about it, so you push it back into that far corner again and hope it stays there, even though you know it won't). I need a break, like a vacation break. Like not just two days off for a weekend, where I might feel like I have a thousand things to do, but in the course of three hours can successfully convince myself that the world won't end if I just say screw it and take a nap at 11am.

I guess if I actually SAY what some of this crap is people will think, well, that's just life. That's just the way it is when you're 44 (!) (when did THAT happen?). I beg to differ. Because it might be the way it is for OTHER people at this age, but I wasn't groomed for this. I was groomed to do my own thing, live my life on my terms, be responsible for myself and perhaps a couple of little kitties, and be, in general, nice to people. This other crap has never been a part of the equation. And yet, here it is, in all its pissing-me-off-daily glory. Thanks, Crap. I appreciate you coming around and throwing wrenches all over my living room (you understand the concept of sarcasm, don't you, Crap?).

So the only way to cope with this crap, and for that matter, all the other crap, is to just get up and shower and go to work and chit chat with the Dutch Bros kids and other people's customers and laugh and interact and pretend like EVERYTHING IS FINE.

And just keep on downing the Advil. Because all this crap is giving me a headache.

Contents

I guess things could be a lot worse

Woman dies after catching fire during surgery.

The job I want

It's a dream job, really. I'm surprised more people aren't on to it.

Yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of phoning the offices of Freddie Mac. We have a file where the seller is a lender that was recently shut down by the powers that be due to basically fraudulent activity and general badness. The active loans, meaning the ones that aren't yet bank-owned, are now being serviced by another, much more popular (and better regulated? Maybe.) servicer, but that's not the issue. If I want something from them it's pretty easy to get it. But this particular property was in foreclosure and ultimately went back to the lender, who now only exists to dispose of its inventory.

Here's the problem - after a file is foreclosed, a trustee's deed is recorded with the county and the lender who foreclosed is now at liberty to execute the sale documents. This property, however, was deeded to Freddie Mac, with the intention of Freddie Mac then deeding it over to the aforementioned lender. But it didn't happen. They SAY it did, but it didn't. I mean, it just didn't. And now I can't get anyone at Freddie Mac to believe me.

The dream job? "Customer Service" rep at Freddie Mac. Because, basically, they don't have to do anything. They don't have to know anything, do anything, find anything out, do any research... nothing. People, like me, call them, and they just tell you they can't help you. Furthermore, if you aren't the first person to call on the file because of this situation, you better by God have your shit together, or they'll "answer" your question and then close the file to any further inquiries.

So here's the deal. The realtor gets a prelim and sees it is vested to the wrong party. He phones that part and says, Hey, the seller on this file is supposed to be "ABC Lender". And they say, Well, yeah, it is. And he says, But it's not vested to "ABC", and they say, Sure it is, we did a deed. And so he says, Mkay, thanks! And calls us and says, Fix it.

Okay we sort of can't. Because even though they SAID they did a deed, they didn't. I even had the title officer pull EVERY DEED recorded in tri-county in 2009 where this lender was the grantee. Nothing. So when I phoned yesterday to tell them this, the rep says to me, well somebody already phoned about this and we answered the question and now there is NO WAY for us to open up another inquiry. And the file has been wiped from the face of the planet. NO ONE CAN HELP YOU. Despite my best (and most controlled) efforts, she refused to further help me. And now there is a property in Washington County that will never, ever, ever, EVER be able to be sold to someone else because somebody at Freddie Mac dropped the ball and now nobody wants to make an effort to fix it.

So the job I want is where I don't have to do anything all day but frustrate escrow officers, supply wrong information, sit quietly on the phone while the caller tried to figure out a solution, shut down that solution and then tell them to have a nice day. I wonder what else they do, while they aren't doing anything else. Surfing the net? Crocheting? Paying their bills online?

I gotta get me a job like that. But I'm afraid sooner or later my brain might turn to mush and I might actually ENJOY not helping people, offering no assistance, being rude, and having no consequences to any of it. So maybe not. ONE of us living in this country needs to have some kind of a conscience.

Figuring it out at 6:45am

(How funny - just as I started to type, "Just Another Day" by Oingo Boingo started up on my iPod. I'm crazy psychic.). Well if that's the case, then why am I just pulling random shit cards these days?

I'll admit it, I've let my cards sit for a long while. I'm not treating them the way I should. I know it's not the most effective thing to read your own cards, but who among us has not had questions, wondered what the f, and then grabbed your trusty tarot deck to just get a clue? (Okay, yeah. Probably just me and Liz.)

Yesterday I was feeling all out of sorts. More Monday than Monday. Not into it. Maybe even as recent as a year ago I would have immediately looked for a reading. But it hasn't been that way lately, and I'm not sure why. Maybe I just don't want to know. Maybe I'm not focused enough to glean the true meaning of what is being thrown out in front of me.

So last night I dug my Goddess tarot deck out of my computer bag where they have been sitting, waiting patiently, since the reunion (they went with me, but didn't leave the bag then, either). Sat on the sofa. Attempted to ground. Did a shitty job of that. Shuffled anyway. Pulled some cards, anyway. Got nothing. Except that my past and my present have been sort of giddy and nice and all-about-me, but my future is all muddled and confused. So of course I take that as meaning I just haven't focused enough and if I intend to see anything of value (meaning, if I see what I WANT to see) (but what's THAT? is what I want to know) I better shut off all outside media and ground myself good and proper before I try again.

Or maybe I am just avoiding the truth. Muddled and confused is pretty much the base of my existence. I mean, let's be honest - I haven't exactly planned for anything in my life except my extended stay in Cancun four years ago. Things just pretty much tumble in front of me and I just roll with them. It's been a pretty enjoyable ride, and I expect that to continue. So I am not sure why I drew a more unsettled conclusion with last night's pull. Frame of mind, I guess, because this morning I don't feel as whacked out and I am seeing a more, um, what's the word.. positive (?) reaction to that last card.

I guess it just goes to show you. You can't control anything. And if I had had the opportunity to control some of the sharp left turns my life has taken over these last, say, 24 years, things may not have turned out the way they are right now. I'm a lot better off than a lot of people, and most of the time my head is in the right spot. So today's lesson, for those of you keeping track, is to roll with it and don't let the (anticipation of) little surprises knock you off your game.

Stressed out people are kind of annoying anyway.

It really IS just another day

because I'm not big into birthdays. My own, that is. If other people like theirs, then I make the appropriate deal out of it. Mine? Meh. Just another day.

My intention on this day is to chill and hopefully not shower. Watch the Browns on Fox. Nap. Finally make enchiladas, even though I pulled some mahi mahi out of the freezer to thaw and am going to throw it in some marinade in a little while. I kind of feel like going to the mall and buying myself something, but that all depends on the shower situation. The Ducks won last night (and if that is any indication of how the rest of the season is going to go I am going to have to rethink my stomach medicine dosage) so that was a great birthday present, and if the Browns pull it off today (aHAHAHAHAHAAAHHAA) then it will be perfect.

Speaking of the Ducks, and I'm a little apprehensive about putting it in writing, I think my jinx is back. A few years ago my nickname was Jinxie Joyce because seriously, no lie, every time I watched they just sucked. And if I got up and left the living room, or changed the channel, or turned the radio station to the FM dial, they would score. That happened last night. I'm not kidding - Purdue would score, I would storm out of the room, and when I came back the Ducks had answered. It got ridiculous there near the end. Thank God Lifetime was playing "Mother May I Sleep With Danger", and every time I switched the channel over, the Ducks actually played like a team (I know this because I was dvring it and I would go back to watch what happened - even my jinx can't change recent history). I will say, however, that covering my face with my hands worked about as well as actually leaving the room, but I didn't find that out until the very end. Next time.

All that aside, yeah. Forty-four. When the heck did THAT happen? I know age is a state of mind, but shit. Forty-four? What have I done with my life? Where's the impact I was supposed to make on the people in my world? And the most frightening question of all, where am I going? I guess it's time I sat down and tried to figure that out. I suppose now I can consider myself an adult.

But for today, relaxing. Laying around until I drive myself crazy and can't take it anymore. Just another day.

Better than coffee?

I stumbled upon this video this morning while reading an archived (kinda) article on Deadspin. Holy mother of God this is the funniest thing to me.



Remember, I used to live in Cleveland. I like it, still. I had a great few years there, made a ton of friends I have reconnected with recently thanks to the wonders of social networking, and am still, inexplicably, a Browns fan. I'm not slamming beautiful Cleveland, I just think it's never too early in the day to laugh your ass off. Enjoy.

Comma sense.

I can't take it anymore. Something just has to be said.

It's no secret that I am Grammar Girl. In this internet age, grammar has gone completely out the window. And you pretty much have to live with it. The kiddies are all typing in abbreviations and acronyms. Smiley faces and double, triple, sometimes quadruple exclamation points are everywhere. Even I over-do the smiley faces from time to time, but mostly because the tone of written word is sometimes hard to translate and I want to make sure people know when I am kidding around. But there's a new phenomenon that I have recently been smacked in the face with, and it is seriously driving me crazy.

Over punctuation.

Yes, that's right. Using punctuation TOO MUCH. Specifically? The comma.

A comma separates lists, adjectives, and phrases in a sentence. The comma is actually quite a versatile mark, if you want to get all technical about it. You can Google "comma" and come up with pages and pages of information on how to properly use it. That's not why I'm here. I'm here to tell you how NOT to use it.

When I (and everyone else with at least a modicum of education) read a sentence that has a comma in it, I pause. Briefly, but definitely. So when I read a sentence wherein there are way too many commas, I am pausing all over the place and for completely inappropriate reasons and it makes my head want to spin right off of my neck and shoulders. I am almost shaking as I write this, that's how bad it bothers me.

Here's an example (and though it's not verbatim from the passages I have been recently subjected to, it's not an exaggeration either): I have to go, get some milk, at, the supermarket. Read that. Tell me you aren't pausing when you see those commas. Read it out loud and tell me you don't sound a little bit like Captain Kirk.

Now imagine that kind of an example in paragraph after paragraph of text, and imagine that you HAVE to read it. Tell me it doesn't hurt your head. I tried (honestly, I did) to just NOT SEE the commas so I could absorb the content, but it was really hard and I ended up just getting more and more frustrated with challenging my brain to re-think EVERYTHING I HAD EVER BEEN TAUGHT to read what might have actually been interesting material, had it just been grammatically correct.

Here's the thing - I don't care if punctuation and grammar are not your gig. I really don't. We all have skills and maybe the fact that I am pretty good with grammar than I am at other things probably doesn't make me the better person. I have plenty of friends who don't get all anal about their spelling or grammar, and THAT I am absolutely okay with.

I am NOT okay with the people that I know who think that they are superior human beings and then type out this crap, present it to me, and make me go absolutely bat shit just by reading it. It's one thing to know and not care that your grammar could be better; it's an entirely other thing to believe, sincerely, that you are smarter than 98% of EVERYONE ELSE ON THE PLANET and then type a 25 word sentence using 32 commas. You think I'm nuts. I've seen it. I have LITERALLY seen TWO COMMAS NEXT TO EACH OTHER in a sentence. Maybe it was a typo, I don't know, maybe he has a lazy right pinkie. But dear Jesus, proofread your shit before you eagerly beg me to read it. Because if you know me AT ALL, or better yet, even CARE to know me at all, you will know that those commas are making me crazy. He doesn't even speak that way, outloud, which is the way that I write. Which of course makes me even crazier.

I'll end this now, because I have to go to work, by saying this to you. You who do not read this blog, but should, and even if you did, you probably wouldn't see that it is you I am talking about*: All those commas do not add depth or drama to your writing. All those commas make even an average reader want to just close the window and fake like you read the whole thing. They make you, the writer, look like a complete tool. And stupid. You look stupid. And everything you write in the future is just drivel to me.

Okay then. I had to get it off my chest and I feel a little bit better now. Just a little bit.
___________________________
*Even Grammar Girl could be getting this sentence wrong. But at least I know it.

This could be why I prefer to stay in

Here's how it's going to go the next few months - all these shows are on my DVR, and since I can't watch anything that starts at 9pm (I have getting-ready-for-bed rituals), I'd better get my ass home straight from work in order to keep up.

Flipping Out
Real Housewives of Atlanta
Rachel Zoe
Top Chef
Hell's Kitchen (though that isn't really a priority)
Sons of Anarchy (stumbled upon that season opener last night, good God that's a great show!)
90210 (don't judge)
Melrose Place (yes, I said it - I'll keep up with it as long as I can take it, out of respect for the old MP, which sky-rocketted to my all time favorite TV show list during Allison's binge drinking storyline. Nobody swilled vodka out of a water glass like Allison. Absolutely fantastic.)
America's Next Top Model (two hour premiere tonight - coming to you live from Nicky's media room)
How I Met Your Mother (don't look at me like I'm not fired up for THAT one)
Entourage (but I think it's almost over)
True Blood (see above)
College Game Day (not on DVR but a must-watch every Saturday morning)
Duck football

Hm. Study that list and see if you can figure me out.

I may never leave the house again.

All over the map again

I'm going to say very little on the subject. And then it'll be put to rest, because it's next week and I do what I can to look forward. But here's the deal: we regular people cannot know the level of intensity with which college football players perform. It's beyond probably anything we will ever know in our own lifetimes. That being said, when that cracker of a BSU player popped off to Blount and (probably called him the "n" word, I'm convinced of it) Blount punched him, it came from a combination of complete fired-up-ness, the fact that this kid comes from a rougher background than you and me, and utter disappointment from such a shitty on field performance. I'm not by any stretch of the imagination condoning his actions, nor do I necessarily support him. But the bottom line is, not one of us that hasn't played on that level can understand where he was coming from, and therefore it is not okay to judge him from a position that is so completely opposite of where he was at the time. Leave it alone, Beavers, it has nothing to do with you. It has nothing to do with the Ducks as a team. It has everything to do with the choices we make in life, each and every one of us. Sometimes we make bad ones. Sometimes our careers are ruined as a result of it. But no matter who we are and what we've done, it ultimately comes down to processing it and moving forward. So Go Ducks, beat Purdue. I'm done with it.

So it's Labor Day weekend, and I have laundry to do. I also wouldn't mind running to the mall, but I have a raging ear infection (you wanted to know that, didn't you?) and I just don't feel like showering. Here are my options: 1) DON'T shower, stay home, attend laundry-fest (my hair is unquestionably in THE WORST shape it's been on a get-up-and-don't-jump-straight-into-the-shower-because-you-don't-have-to-go-to-work day ever); or 2) Shower, go tan/shop, feel accomplished, do laundry in the afternoon (how much do I really have?). Which would you choose?

Here's the thing about showering. I don't like it. I mean, sometimes, when it's colder than crap everywhere I go, I love the part about standing in a stream of really hot water and warming myself to the core. The soaping, shampooing, hot water part I don't mind. It's the gigantic pain in the ass of drying and styling my hair that I hate the most (and the post-shower damp - I hate being cold). But seriously, my whole life my hair has been different every day. Some days I am just not up to the surprise of good-hair-day/bad-hair-day. And this week it has been non-stop bad hair. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. It's just looked like crap every day, even on days when I REALLY wished it hadn't, like one day last week, when it would have been GREAT if I had had a good-hair-day, because everyone wants to look better when they are entertaining (and even though the entertainee says your hair looks fine, you know it doesn't, and you just know they are saying, hm, her hair looked way better last time I saw her, this could change everything..). So as you can see, today's shower decision isn't just about me being lazy.

I did drive out to Scappoose yesterday to visit that Sydney Jo. And Marshy and Stan, but they had to be there, being that Sydney is too young to get a job to cover the mortgage. It was fun, relaxing, enjoyable, and the music on the radio between here and there didn't suck. Plus the rain held off both times I had to drive over that Cornelius Pass Road. So somebody's looking after me, I guess. It was good to see them, good to see Michaelene and Steve, good to know the goats were not out.

So I think it's been a pretty good weekend. Happy Labor Day to you all - we all need a little break today.

Rain on me

It's raining cats and dogs out there this morning. I woke up in the dark with a kitty looking for love on my hip, kitty biscuits with claws (it's never good to be awoken by kitty biscuits when you really have to go to the bathroom). As I lay there wondering if 5:45 is too early to get up on a Saturday, I heard a slightly familiar sound - running water? Did I live the faucet on trickle for the kitties last night? Nope. Turns out, it's rain. I went back to sleep for another 45 minutes. The kitty didn't give up though, but my bladder almost did. So I got up, in the dark. To rain.

I guess it's been a good summer, weather-wise, but seriously? Even the first rainy morning is kind of a drag for me.

Plus, here's what my horoscope said this morning: "If you are making travel plans today, whether across the country or across town, make sure that you prepare carefully... Avoid large puddles. Your chart says "water" and "travel" mix poorly today." I am not travelling across the country, but I sure do have a lot of errands to run around town. Do I listen to my horoscope? I won't - it's never right when it tells me I have a bright financial future ahead of me. What a risk-taker.

So yesterday, Friday, pretty much sucked. Full moons for some reason are always such a nightmare in my industry. I got just a ton of loan documents, and we couldn't fund anything without practically sawing off an arm and emailing it to the funder. I got called on the carpet for spreading a rumor that I did not spread, and then, for the first time in twelve years in this blasted career, I got a complaint. About my sense of humor. What? Me? People LOVE me. I still can't see past this.

Apparently some broad was covering the desk of a processor for a file that seriously has been active since FEBRUARY. That's pretty much how long it takes to refinance your house these days. Three years ago they were practically handing out loans to anyone riding a bike past a loan officer's apartment; now even the most qualified applicants are being put through the mill as if the root of the downfall of the mortgage industry is their fault, and not the fault of over-zealous loan officers who like to put their own personal spin on the truth. Anyway, these poor borrowers had signed their documents twice (don't get me started on what caused the re-draw - it's just really clear that this lender wasn't in the mood to loan money to them), and I signed them the second time around. It came time to fund on Friday, and the lender dreamed up some crazy condition that morning that seriously is not something you can just GET in an hour. Poor Marci the assistant practically had to whore herself out to the party from which we needed this condition. And that, apparently, was my downfall.

Because when said processor's replacement phoned me to find out if the file was funding today, and I told her about this new condition, and told her what I just typed above about the whoring, she apparently was quite offended. Offended enough to send an email, copied to her own company's president and head of HR, to the branch manager of the Beaverton branch. About my appalling lack of professionalism. Um. Hi! Don't you work for a mortgage company? In 2009? Where your staff is pretty much cashing in bottles and cans to meet their own bills? My guess is the language around there is just slightly more colorful than "whoring". Plus, my success has always been my ability to talk to lender clients they way they want to be talked to - authoritative, confident, and with HUMOR. So pull the stick out of your ass, sweetheart, and go smoke a fucking bowl. You clearly need it.

So that, along with a crazy amount of loan documents, and locks expiring all over the place with this three-day weekend, and being accused of spreading rumors, well, yesterday was just exhausting. I came home and wanted to crawl under a rock and completely chill.

So now, all these errands, and the improbability of avoidng puddles. In the rain. It's a good thing I bounce back pretty well from this kind of shit.

Oh, and if you're still reading and care, the branch manager emailed back that I meant no offense and was heartily sorry. I told her to tell her that if she would like a personal apology I would be happy to provide one. Nobody plays this game better than I do, and it's just words to a girl I will never work with again. I don't think she got a response, but at least for now I still have a job.

And so it begins.

It's upon us.

Saturdays spent with my stomach in knots. Clenched fists, jaws, and toes. Superstitions. Doubt. Fear. Anger. Joy. Phoney smiles pasted to an anguished face. Carrying myself around like everything is normal.

The Ducks play Boise State tonight. I'm going to replay a video for you all because, well, I can. And I feel like I have to, to get us all back in the spirit, and remind us of what, in this life, is REALLY important.



Go Ducks. Just Go Ducks.

Say what?

Today as I was driving back from lunch I heard the opening strains of a familiar song. That didn't sound so familiar. A little bit off. Not quite right. Then I realized it: somebody did a cover of "Love Rollercoaster" by the Ohio Players.

What? You can't do that! The best part of this song, the part that STILL to this DAY gives me chills, is the urban legend that a girl was being murdered outside the studio when they were recording it, and that bone-chilling scream you hear near the end of the song is her. The story goes that when they were editing the song and heard it, they thought it was too perfect to leave out, so they left it in. I remember when I was like 9 or something Claudia T. told me that story and ever since then I HAVE to listen to the whole song, and when that part comes on I get total shivers. Just writing about it now gives me chills!

This is a "live" version from YouTube, so I am sure the scream is missing, but you know what I'm talking about. You do, don't you?


Don't you just love those '70s videos? Mother of God. What were we thinking?

Did I listen to the whole remake today? Hell no. You cannot remake that song, I don't care who you are. It will never be the same and you can bet I will never listen to it. Some songs are just better left alone.