¡Una limosna para mi calavera!
Hello, everyone.
Do you know what sucks?
Everything!
I think I'm getting sick again. Again! What is this shit? The last time I got a cold was the night before Mr. Larsen died and I didn't get over it until a few days before my surgery. And once I'm in the hospital they give me this list of instructions, most of which they were supposed to (and did) already tell me, except for the fact that I WAS SUPPOSED TO CALL THEM IF I GET A COLD BECAUSE IT COULD FUCK EVERYTHING UP. No, they didn't tell me that one. Thanks.
But having a cold really is the last thing I need right now.
Hey, today is the fourth! A year ago today I was in the hospital! I actually went into the ER on the third (I didn't even get to watch Kyle XY, the pain was so bad. My inner geek and love for Matt Dallas has yet to forgive me) but I wasn't formally checked in until March 4th. They didn't let me eat or drink anything for a few days. You see, I was under the impression that they were going to cut on me during that stay. They even assigned me a surgeon. But they didn't operate on me, and I saw this surgeon maybe twice. So what do I get for my troubles? A bill for some four hundred bucks. For what? All he did was squeeze my stomach and provoke another godawful attack. Thanks!
Sometime in July my dad went into the hospital for gallstones too! But they DID operate on him. Why? I'd like to know that, too. They told me that they didn't do that here (here being Hemet, I had my surgery in Moreno Valley) and I believed them. So what the fuck? Like, I didn't hate hospitals and doctors enough before.
How was I to know that I wouldn't actually have my surgery until almost a year later? Lovin' life.
I also told you that I'm going to be homeless in less than two weeks! Here's an update:
Two weeks ago my dad and I go to the mortgage people because dad finally got it through his skull that they aren't just fucking around and if he doesn't pay what he owes in back taxes they are taking the fucking house.
What did they tell us? They can't give us more than seven grand. That's awesome. Dad owed six grand, but since he didn't pay before the date rolled over to 2009, that amount has now doubled to some $13,000. So if he had done this WHEN I FUCKING TOLD HIM ABOUT IT, we would be totally fine right now and I wouldn't be worrying about where the shit I'm going to live after Friday the 13th (Oh, look at that. That's cute.)
However, the broad at the mortgage company told us something that left a bad taste in my mouth. She said that they couldn't loan us more than 45% of what the house is worth. Okay...so what? The house is worth just a little more than $100,000. Now, I'm definitely not the guy you should come to if you want math done good, but some $7,000 is nowhere near 45% of $100,000. She even punched some buttons on her big novelty calculator, let me tell you how cute it was.
But has dad gone back like he said he said he would to try and straighten this whole thing out? No! He's taking his fucking time. I still think he honestly believes they won't kick us the fuck out come the 13th.
We did go to the courthouse here in town because I guess there's an assessor's office here I wasn't aware of. I thought he was being serious (can't blame me for hoping) again and what the fuck does he do? He asks if he can have an extension. --Let me stop for now. HELL NO they're not going to give you an extension! That ship has sailed. He had until July to do that. When we thought they were taking the house, and we basically moved out and put all our junk in storage. Thanks to dad we lived in an empty house for a little more than a month. We were like squatters in our own home. That was nice.
So until then, we could still have gotten some kind of payment schedule going. But thanks to dad (do you see a pattern here?) that went to hell and the treasury was like, well...now we want all the money. Now. -- The guy at the office gives him a slip of paper with the Riverside address and phone number. Has he called them yet? Probably not. But I know what their answer is going to be regardless.
So are we all up to speed now? If we don't manage to come up with $13,000 within the week and a half we have left, we're all out of a home. I don't think I've said this enough. Thanks, dad!
I think I'm going to start packing next Monday. Sigh.
But what does dad have to say about the whole thing? "Well, none of you want to help me out." Oh, right. Like we helped you out when you didn't pay your property taxes for six years. Like we helped you when you spent what little money we had. Like we help you when all you do is go out drinking with your naco-ass buddies like you were a fucking child.
You know, I haven't actually seen my dad for the past few days. He'll come home and drop something off and leave again (presumably for more boozin') without so much as a hello.
Oh, and like I said, I'm getting sick again. Lovely.
I think I'm going to burst into flames come next week. That's all that's left. Spontaneous? Oh, no. This is Why-the-fuck-didn't-this-happen-a-year ago Human Combustion.
But, hey! I saw this totally tits special on Dia de los Muertos last night. It was in Tepoztlan, Morelos. Hey, I been there!
Whatever.
Pasatelas bien.
One time, I saw him fart an entire plum.
Made from stone ground corn
Serge
Do you know what sucks?
Everything!
I think I'm getting sick again. Again! What is this shit? The last time I got a cold was the night before Mr. Larsen died and I didn't get over it until a few days before my surgery. And once I'm in the hospital they give me this list of instructions, most of which they were supposed to (and did) already tell me, except for the fact that I WAS SUPPOSED TO CALL THEM IF I GET A COLD BECAUSE IT COULD FUCK EVERYTHING UP. No, they didn't tell me that one. Thanks.
But having a cold really is the last thing I need right now.
Hey, today is the fourth! A year ago today I was in the hospital! I actually went into the ER on the third (I didn't even get to watch Kyle XY, the pain was so bad. My inner geek and love for Matt Dallas has yet to forgive me) but I wasn't formally checked in until March 4th. They didn't let me eat or drink anything for a few days. You see, I was under the impression that they were going to cut on me during that stay. They even assigned me a surgeon. But they didn't operate on me, and I saw this surgeon maybe twice. So what do I get for my troubles? A bill for some four hundred bucks. For what? All he did was squeeze my stomach and provoke another godawful attack. Thanks!
Sometime in July my dad went into the hospital for gallstones too! But they DID operate on him. Why? I'd like to know that, too. They told me that they didn't do that here (here being Hemet, I had my surgery in Moreno Valley) and I believed them. So what the fuck? Like, I didn't hate hospitals and doctors enough before.
How was I to know that I wouldn't actually have my surgery until almost a year later? Lovin' life.
I also told you that I'm going to be homeless in less than two weeks! Here's an update:
Two weeks ago my dad and I go to the mortgage people because dad finally got it through his skull that they aren't just fucking around and if he doesn't pay what he owes in back taxes they are taking the fucking house.
What did they tell us? They can't give us more than seven grand. That's awesome. Dad owed six grand, but since he didn't pay before the date rolled over to 2009, that amount has now doubled to some $13,000. So if he had done this WHEN I FUCKING TOLD HIM ABOUT IT, we would be totally fine right now and I wouldn't be worrying about where the shit I'm going to live after Friday the 13th (Oh, look at that. That's cute.)
However, the broad at the mortgage company told us something that left a bad taste in my mouth. She said that they couldn't loan us more than 45% of what the house is worth. Okay...so what? The house is worth just a little more than $100,000. Now, I'm definitely not the guy you should come to if you want math done good, but some $7,000 is nowhere near 45% of $100,000. She even punched some buttons on her big novelty calculator, let me tell you how cute it was.
But has dad gone back like he said he said he would to try and straighten this whole thing out? No! He's taking his fucking time. I still think he honestly believes they won't kick us the fuck out come the 13th.
We did go to the courthouse here in town because I guess there's an assessor's office here I wasn't aware of. I thought he was being serious (can't blame me for hoping) again and what the fuck does he do? He asks if he can have an extension. --Let me stop for now. HELL NO they're not going to give you an extension! That ship has sailed. He had until July to do that. When we thought they were taking the house, and we basically moved out and put all our junk in storage. Thanks to dad we lived in an empty house for a little more than a month. We were like squatters in our own home. That was nice.
So until then, we could still have gotten some kind of payment schedule going. But thanks to dad (do you see a pattern here?) that went to hell and the treasury was like, well...now we want all the money. Now. -- The guy at the office gives him a slip of paper with the Riverside address and phone number. Has he called them yet? Probably not. But I know what their answer is going to be regardless.
So are we all up to speed now? If we don't manage to come up with $13,000 within the week and a half we have left, we're all out of a home. I don't think I've said this enough. Thanks, dad!
I think I'm going to start packing next Monday. Sigh.
But what does dad have to say about the whole thing? "Well, none of you want to help me out." Oh, right. Like we helped you out when you didn't pay your property taxes for six years. Like we helped you when you spent what little money we had. Like we help you when all you do is go out drinking with your naco-ass buddies like you were a fucking child.
You know, I haven't actually seen my dad for the past few days. He'll come home and drop something off and leave again (presumably for more boozin') without so much as a hello.
Oh, and like I said, I'm getting sick again. Lovely.
I think I'm going to burst into flames come next week. That's all that's left. Spontaneous? Oh, no. This is Why-the-fuck-didn't-this-happen-a-year ago Human Combustion.
But, hey! I saw this totally tits special on Dia de los Muertos last night. It was in Tepoztlan, Morelos. Hey, I been there!
Whatever.
Pasatelas bien.
One time, I saw him fart an entire plum.
Made from stone ground corn
Serge