Think I'll be golfing with a handicap when I get back to Houston . . .
. . . when I try to get laid, being that I’ll be an unemployed 41 year-old who lives with his mom? This should make for an interesting exercise, to say the least! Damn Rob, I may yet come by and try to throw a few bottles of wine at your lovely MILF-y neighbor and just see what happens, my rule about not messing with married women notwithstanding ;). To paraphrase Eddie Murphy, “lack of pussy make you brave, man!” And unscrupulous, too.
Well, it's Monday morning; my first day of unemployment in like 16 years. All in all, I must say that it's pretty fucking nice to not have to be anywhere. I met with my new realtor yesterday and she gave me some ideas for generating more traffic. She said my last agent killed my house's appeal when he lowered the commission down to 5% when we lowered the price. The idea was to cut the price but to do so in a way that couldn’t require me to bring money to the table. However, Kim (my new agent) said that local inventory is now roughly triple what it was this time last year and so lowering the commission ended up killing its appeal to the buyers' agents out there.
My first agent--Sean--was a nice guy and had had an interesting pre-real estate life (he was ex-Special Forces and fought in Desert Storm) but he was also kind of a fucking idiot. For instance, he was real fond of using the word “bugger” a lot, and that kind of bothered me. While we were filling all of the requisite paperwork in the beginning, he kept saying “now if you’ll just sign this little bugger . . . " and shit like that. I actually said to him “you keep saying that word, I do not think it means what you think it means” and when he didn’t catch the Princess Bride quote, I should have known that he and I were ill-matched. Anyway, when I invited him to go to dictionary.com on his laptop then demonstrated to him how the word “bugger” was actually a verb that means to ass-fuck someone, he almost choked.
Anyway, after about 3 weeks of no activity, including a total strikeout on an open house, he actually called me with a hare-brained notion that he could sell my house by holding a fucking raffle! He said that he heard about a dude in Michigan who sold like $250,000 in tickets on a $175,000 house and wanted to try out the method on mine. "Just trying to think outside the box here, man" he said.
Dude, there's thinking outside the box, and then there's thinking outside the box. I can think of about a dozen ways that this scheme could end up badly for me and I rather doubt that you would relish the lawsuit that I would certainly visit upon you and your firm were you to put me in the position of having to give my house away for less than its prodigious mortgage amount. So . . . let's just put that idea back on its shelf, shall we? Raffles are for things like bicycles, genius, not houses. If we’re going to venture outside the box, let’s try to remain within, oh, a 10-foot radius of it, okay?
Of course, I didn’t actually say any of that shit to him. Witty ripostes like this only occur to me like 30 minutes after the conversation is over. Be that as it may, I don’t mind “thinking outside the box” (though I hate the term) but anytime someone you’re trusting to sell your main asset for you starts talking like that, it means they’re getting desperate and that should make your bullshit-sense tingle. Of course, nothing ever came of it and a few weeks later, Sean emailed me and let me know that he was taking a job in Orlando and that another “superstar” would henceforth be taking over my listing. The next week, I met said “superstar” when she came by, quite unannounced, and knocked on my door at 8:30 on Saturday morning.
No, please, do come in! I just love it when people just drop by early in the morning when I’m still wearing the shirt I slept in and still look and probably smell like a hog’s ass. Just love it, I say!
Oh, and did I mention that this new agent, Rhea, had her husband with her, a hatchet-faced ex-Army type? Anyway, she was cute in a vaguely Asian porn star way, however dear hubby was fixing me with his best “don’t let your eyes linger on my wife’s tits or there’ll be problems” stare so I listened to her pitch about how she was going to be able to sell my house when her ex-colleague couldn’t, and did my best to keep my eyes on her face. I was so impressed that I called her a few days later and invited to remove her firm’s sign from my yard and to take their lockbox off my door.
Anyway, I have a new realtor, Kim, who strikes me as having a lot more on the ball than either Sean or Rhea did and I feel more comfortable with her. As for today, I am going to go through my house and throw away stuff that I don’t want and then buy boxes for the stuff that I do want to keep. Kim talked me into leaving a lot of appliances and furniture that I either didn’t want that badly, or that would be cheap to replace. She said that it’ll help to have some stuff in the house when people look at it and she’ll look into renting some stuff to fill it out even more after I leave next weekend. This is all expensive to be sure, but I have GOT to get out from under my $2,000 a month mortgage so I don’t mind spending the money. Anyway, Rob, the bottom line is that we’re going to move less furniture than I anticipated.
This post has grown tiresome, so I will go for now. Peace out, my nizzles.
-J
Well, it's Monday morning; my first day of unemployment in like 16 years. All in all, I must say that it's pretty fucking nice to not have to be anywhere. I met with my new realtor yesterday and she gave me some ideas for generating more traffic. She said my last agent killed my house's appeal when he lowered the commission down to 5% when we lowered the price. The idea was to cut the price but to do so in a way that couldn’t require me to bring money to the table. However, Kim (my new agent) said that local inventory is now roughly triple what it was this time last year and so lowering the commission ended up killing its appeal to the buyers' agents out there.
My first agent--Sean--was a nice guy and had had an interesting pre-real estate life (he was ex-Special Forces and fought in Desert Storm) but he was also kind of a fucking idiot. For instance, he was real fond of using the word “bugger” a lot, and that kind of bothered me. While we were filling all of the requisite paperwork in the beginning, he kept saying “now if you’ll just sign this little bugger . . . " and shit like that. I actually said to him “you keep saying that word, I do not think it means what you think it means” and when he didn’t catch the Princess Bride quote, I should have known that he and I were ill-matched. Anyway, when I invited him to go to dictionary.com on his laptop then demonstrated to him how the word “bugger” was actually a verb that means to ass-fuck someone, he almost choked.
Anyway, after about 3 weeks of no activity, including a total strikeout on an open house, he actually called me with a hare-brained notion that he could sell my house by holding a fucking raffle! He said that he heard about a dude in Michigan who sold like $250,000 in tickets on a $175,000 house and wanted to try out the method on mine. "Just trying to think outside the box here, man" he said.
Dude, there's thinking outside the box, and then there's thinking outside the box. I can think of about a dozen ways that this scheme could end up badly for me and I rather doubt that you would relish the lawsuit that I would certainly visit upon you and your firm were you to put me in the position of having to give my house away for less than its prodigious mortgage amount. So . . . let's just put that idea back on its shelf, shall we? Raffles are for things like bicycles, genius, not houses. If we’re going to venture outside the box, let’s try to remain within, oh, a 10-foot radius of it, okay?
Of course, I didn’t actually say any of that shit to him. Witty ripostes like this only occur to me like 30 minutes after the conversation is over. Be that as it may, I don’t mind “thinking outside the box” (though I hate the term) but anytime someone you’re trusting to sell your main asset for you starts talking like that, it means they’re getting desperate and that should make your bullshit-sense tingle. Of course, nothing ever came of it and a few weeks later, Sean emailed me and let me know that he was taking a job in Orlando and that another “superstar” would henceforth be taking over my listing. The next week, I met said “superstar” when she came by, quite unannounced, and knocked on my door at 8:30 on Saturday morning.
No, please, do come in! I just love it when people just drop by early in the morning when I’m still wearing the shirt I slept in and still look and probably smell like a hog’s ass. Just love it, I say!
Oh, and did I mention that this new agent, Rhea, had her husband with her, a hatchet-faced ex-Army type? Anyway, she was cute in a vaguely Asian porn star way, however dear hubby was fixing me with his best “don’t let your eyes linger on my wife’s tits or there’ll be problems” stare so I listened to her pitch about how she was going to be able to sell my house when her ex-colleague couldn’t, and did my best to keep my eyes on her face. I was so impressed that I called her a few days later and invited to remove her firm’s sign from my yard and to take their lockbox off my door.
Anyway, I have a new realtor, Kim, who strikes me as having a lot more on the ball than either Sean or Rhea did and I feel more comfortable with her. As for today, I am going to go through my house and throw away stuff that I don’t want and then buy boxes for the stuff that I do want to keep. Kim talked me into leaving a lot of appliances and furniture that I either didn’t want that badly, or that would be cheap to replace. She said that it’ll help to have some stuff in the house when people look at it and she’ll look into renting some stuff to fill it out even more after I leave next weekend. This is all expensive to be sure, but I have GOT to get out from under my $2,000 a month mortgage so I don’t mind spending the money. Anyway, Rob, the bottom line is that we’re going to move less furniture than I anticipated.
This post has grown tiresome, so I will go for now. Peace out, my nizzles.
-J
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