Buying property:
- If the picture shows that there are either grills on the windows or a metal fence that surrounds the house, you may have to duck and run to your car everyday to dodge whatever may hit you, be it stray bullets or bird shit. Why? Because in neighborhoods such as these, you never know what's gonna hit you.
- There is much meaning in the phrase, "You live in the OC, eh?" People who live in Orange County do not know how lucky they are to have the well-planned streets and breathing spaces in between lots. LA County, for the most part, where the affordable homes are, sucks like a bag of dung and grass. People from the OC are spoiled? Damn straight we are. I would rather rent then run sprints from my car to the house on a crowded street in a crowded neighborhood.
- When the listing says "Owner willing to negotiate," don't even bother making an offer. There is no owner willing to negotiate. You make an offer and they will not only bite your hand off, they will also take your whole arm, make you walk on one leg, ask you to file for bankruptcy, sell your dog to the gypsies for the little extra cash, and take your fake leather wallet.
- Patience is not a virtue. It is a waste of time. The longer it takes for me to buy property, the less likely I will be able to afford it in the next couple of months. Go fucking figure.
Buying a Dress for a wedding in Montreal:
My dress is a pretty, off-white, halter, silhouette with light fuschia pink flowers of which 2 are carefully situated on the upper left portion of the halter (right above the left boob) and 2 on the right leg below the hips. I fell in love with it the moment I tried it on. Mom and The Boy Friend agree with it, too.
- The difficulty in buying the right stilletos of the right shade of fuschia to match this dress does not compare to Christmas Shopping. The latter is much easier.
- Buying skivvies for a dress that shows everything but the dimples on your butt is more of a hassle than it is a well-deserved shopping spree. Only one color and one style will help me pull off the decent-summery-casual-happy-girly-look. The color is grandma-nude. The style, I still have to figure out. The wrong undies will simultaneously push tummy-fat in the in the wrong places (I wonder if is there is underwear that can push tummy fat up to the boobies) and make me look a like a screaming whore from California who likes pink. Hello, VS; good-bye next paycheck.
- There is no bag the right shade of fuschia.
They should have taught buying dresses and gowns in college under fiscal management, because:
Dress, shoes, accessories, and skivvies, $250. Impression one makes with dress, shoes, accessories, and skivvies on The Boy Friend's relatives and friends, priceless.
Meeting my Boy Friend's relatives and friends:
- There is no way I will make it through the day without tripping or falling on my face. I have the tendency to make a mockery out of myself under extreme pressure.
- After this event, I will have to undergo speech therapy. I will also have extended temporary psychosis and paranoia.
- I have to smile and pretend it doesn't hurt when all I'll want to do is hide in the bathroom.
I know it sounds shallow, but these are the things they should have taught us in college, not some square root of some number you'll never think about again. What about real-life situations? What about the meaning of jumbo loans, five-year fixed interest and variable interest rates? How to save for the future? Retirement plans? What about what to say to your partner's relatives or the right wedding present for someone you barely know? How not to screw up everyday? Why didn't anyone tell us that we had to start investing at the age of five in order to live comfortably at age 65, without having to bust our chops and increase the likelihood of getting a hernia and high blood pressure?
Tell me, out of all the classes I missed, which one talked about how to stay on the road that veered away from the looney bin?
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