I heard back from the financing guy today, and while the news wasn’t totally discouraging, it wasn’t especially encouraging either.
Suffice to say there are some issues with my credit history that I need to address and I’m not sure that I’ll be able to in time.
Of course, that means that I could wait until next year, by which time I could address the issues, and actually try harder to save up money for a down payment, but by then who knows how much prices will have gone up.
Still, I haven’t given up yet.
The issues with my credit are, not surprisingly, from several years back. I mean, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that an unemployed drunk is unlikely to pay his bills or demonstrate much in the way of fiscal responsibility.
People always say that you can’t live in the past, and they’re right, but the problem is that while you’re busy living in the present the past will often sneak up on you.
Oh well.
Today I went out and reluctantly spent some money. I’d intended to just pinch every penny until the whole condo buying thing is resolved (in whatever fashion), but there were two things that hit the market today that I couldn’t pass up.
One was “The Forty Year Old Virgin” on DVD.
The other? The “Sin City: Recut, Extended, Unrated” DVD.
While the former was just as funny the second time around, the real story lies with the latter item.
I remain annoyed that I ended up wasting money on the first DVD release of the theatrical version of “Sin City,” which is actually included with the new box set, but I was very pleased with the special features.
The coolest feature is that the four interlocking stories that made up the movie can actually be viewed as four separate mini-movies that include all the content deleted from the theatrical version.
Another cool feature is the “All Green” version, which is a copy of the movie looking the way it was when it was shot, with the stand-in props and the green screens in place of sets. It’s sped up about 800% though, and even when slowing it down as much as possible I got ripped off when it came to getting to see Carla Gugino walking around well-lit and in color with nothing but a gun and a thong, as that whole scene just blips on by.
When I got home from buying the DVDs I opted to pop “Virgin” in and watch it, as I was in the mood for a laugh and when it’s sunny outside it’s far too bright in my apartment to watch some movies.
There’s a scene early in the movie, which I’d forgotten about, in which one of the guys who works with Andy – the titular virgin – tells him about his weekend, which consisted of driving down to Tijuana and taking in a show that involved a woman and a horse. Suffice to say that it wasn’t the sort of equestrian event you’re likely to see televised.
In any case, after telling his story he asks Andy what he did over the weekend, at which point Andy tells him a story about making egg salad.
The scene is funny enough in and of itself, but it was made more so today by the fact that, as I was watching it there were some eggs floating around in a pot of boiling water on my stove, as it was my intention to make egg salad.
I wonder if I subconsciously remembered the scene before I put the DVD in and that’s why I opted to make the egg salad.
Either that or I’m just as much of a lame, pathetic loser as Andy.
*Sigh*
Earlier I mentioned my days as an unemployed drunk. Some time before that period, in the days when I was a drunk but still had a job, there came a night at the bar in which my jaw very nearly dropped and hit the floor thanks to an entrance by pair of spectacularly beautiful young women who were, as they say, dressed to the nines.
These girls were absolutely stunning in and of themselves, but the way they were dressed enhanced the effect in ways that I can’t begin to describe.
In time I came to know both of them, as they eventually ended up working at the bar, but that night it was as if they had walked straight out of my dreams.
They then proceeded to walk into nightmare territory, though, when the two of them left the bar with my friend Jeff.
(It wasn’t that much of a nightmare, though; he just went for a ride with them. It’s a long story.)
In any case, on my way home from Best Buy today I stopped at the grocery store where I randomly saw three extremely beautiful and extremely well-dressed young women, and I found myself reminded of that night.
They weren’t quite as beautiful or well-dressed as the two girls in the bar that night, but the fact that there were three of them gave them a bit of an edge.
I got a closer look at them when they were congregated at the end of an aisle that I was headed down, though, and saw that despite the fact that they were dressed like sophisticated business professionals they were clearly high school students.
This was most evident in the fact that one of them (the hottest one, and the one who glared at me the whole time I innocently made my way down the aisle toward them, or rather, toward the breakfast bars they were congregated in front of, with an expression that very clearly said “Will you just die already?”) was wearing what I call “training pumps.” These are the sort of low heels that teenage girls who are trying to be sophisticated wear while working their way up to taller, thinner heels.
The surreal quality of their appearance – attractive, well-dressed women are just as rare in my grocery store as they had been in my bar – echoed the dreamy quality of that night so many years ago, and given that the three of them were there with some dorky guy, the nightmarish aspects were echoed as well.
The dorky teenaged guy they were with was also dressed like some kind of busy executive, though he looked much more like a kid playing dress up than the girls did.
He was wearing one of those blue shirts with the white collar that I see guys wearing from time to time. Who decided that was a good look?
In any case, after I’d gotten home, watched the movie, and made my egg salad, I decided that I should go for a walk.
It’s been a few days since I’ve walked the full circuit, but I figured that it’s been long enough since it snowed that the trails would be clear.
I was right, for the most part, but there were significant patches of ice in the areas where trees and houses prevent sunlight from reaching.
As I was walking I could hear the distress of an extremely vocal housewife who was trying to walk two dogs and navigate the icy patches. She was talking to her dogs as if they could understand her, and then getting angry at them for failing to listen to her (“I told you not to try pulling me when we got on the ice!”).
Given that the combination of the ice and the well-worn soles of my shoes led me to spend some amount of time walking as though my pelvis were made of brittle plastic, she and her dogs caught up to me at one point and she complained to me about the Homeowner’s Association failing to clear the paths the way they were supposed to. Not being a member of the Homeowner’s Association, I did my best to commiserate with her, but eventually I proved to be slightly more sure-footed, despite having to engage in that slip and recover maneuver that involves throwing your arms out the side and trying to retain your balance, which looks like nothing so much as some kind of retarded Disco move, and eventually left her behind again to try to negotiate with her dogs, who were eager to yank at their leashes and make her fall on her ass.
And then I came home and it was dark enough to watch some of the “Sin City” DVD, and now we’re pretty much all caught up.
I think I’ll go make myself an egg salad sandwich.
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