Tales from the Home Hunt

In case you hadn't noticed, I have been really lazy lately. When you don't leave your house and/or change out of your pajamas, you don't have much to blog about! I figured in the absence of new and interesting things to say, I'd post a story from mine and Mike's short, but entertaining hunt for a home. Mike decided once we moved to Ridgecrest that we should buy a house. I was super against it because, well...I DON'T HAVE A JOB. Mike did his crazy anal Mike research, (he does work in a library after all), and ended up convincing me that we could afford it and that it was fiscally smart to do. So we got a realtor and set out to find the home of our dreams...within a budget. We set out on the sunny flex Friday, (if you don't know what a flex Friday is then you aren't from Ridgecrest and you really don't care), hoping to find something worth the massive amounts of money we are going to dump into it. The first house we pull up to is OKAY. The cul de sac kind of scares me, but I'm a sheltered, white, small town girl so I tend to try to ignore my HOLY SHIT THIS PLACE IS GHETTO instinct. We go inside and it's nice. The floors are wood and the backyard has a pool, but further investigation unveiled some weirdnesses that I personally could not ignore. Weirdness #1 - there was an extra room off of the living room with no door and with a fireplace and bed in it. Weirdness #2 - there were these big box thingies on two walls that apparently acts as the heater. Maybe this is me being naive or just never having lived in an old house, but I do not want my heat being puffed out of two big boxes located randomly throughout the house. Also, we couldn't go in the backyard because there were little yappy dogs guarding the pool. Shouldn't the dogs NOT be locked in WITH the pool? Just a question. So we left that house feeling sort of eh about it. We didn't hate anything, but we definitely didn't love anything either. I started to get worried that I wouldn't get THAT feeling. You know what I mean? That feeling they say you get when you put on the right wedding dress. That "I just know" feeling. I worried the whole drive to the second house and then I walked in. OHhhh that's the feeling I was waiting for.

We'll come back to that later. Fast forward to a couple of houses later. We pull up to a house that looks abandoned. Yet again, maybe I'm naive, but I was shocked with the state of houses in our price range. We're not talking 80 grand cheapo houses. These were people asking legit amounts of money for houses with holes punched in the walls and carpet ripped out of the hallway. It still shocks me that people will just ditch their house or will put it on the market looking like a rock band had a bender inside of it the night before. Anyways, we walk up and this place is pretty crappy looking, but nothing we couldn't easily fix. I walk inside and turn right to enter the kitchen. I immediately get a vibe that this place is icksville and I don't want it, but Mike is methodical and wants to look at ALL of the house so I keep looking. I turn to the right of the kitchen and enter another room. I immediately do a double take because I am standing INSIDE OF ANOTHER KITCHEN. I actually at this point turn around and walk back into the first kitchen to make sure I'm not on crack. Nope, I'm sober. There are TWO kitchens in this house. Fighting the urge to run out the door, I turn to the right again and enter the next room which is not a kitchen hurrah! No, this is a bedroom. A bedroom with Mike standing at the closet looking horrified. Because inside the closet is A BATHROOM. I'm pretty sure that is the fastest Mike, myself, and the realtor moved all day getting the hell out of there.

Needless to say, we did not purchase creepy icksville house. We are currently in the process of purchasing the second house. The ohhhh this feels right house. Once everything is officially over and escrow closes on the 31st, I'll post pictures and details, but until then let me just promise you this...our house does not have two kitchens, or a toilet in a closet.

A Letter to My Fellow Patrons of Stater Bros

Dear Fellow Patrons of Stater Bros,

Based on my experience with the majority of you on Friday, I’ve come to believe that most of you have never gone grocery shopping before in your lives. Here are some pointers for your next foray into public shopping:

DO shower before leaving the house. If you are unable or if, like one sweaty fellow I encountered, you decided to bike to the grocery store causing yourself to be covered in perspiration, please do not stand close to me while I try to pick out meat. Your sweat + fresh fish = a permanent loss of my appetite.

DON’T block the entire row while you and your daughter, (God I hope that was your daughter and not your inappropriately young wife), try to figure out what pasta sauce is and what it can possibly be used for.

DO move your ass when you see that you are blocking an entire row of people who are intelligent enough to know what pasta sauce is and how to spell it.

DON’T attempt to use fourteen credit cards to pay for your purchases. Here’s a hint, if you cannot afford groceries, don’t buy candy, chips, and soda. How about you buy essentials like bread and milk and use ONE credit card?!

DON’T haggle with the check people over four dollar bottles of wine and then explain to them that they can’t check the price because you are buying every bottle on display. That is like wearing a big neon sign that says, “I AM AN ALCOHOLIC.”

DO wear sunglasses to cover up your big shiner that your husband obviously gave you instead of walking around looking sad and abused. It’s just depressing.

DON’T stand inappropriately close to me in line and then ask me why “my toes aren’t pretty.” That is creepy on so many levels there aren’t enough words to explain it.

DON’T wear shorts that are so short that when you bend over I can see 80% of your butt cheeks. Actually, I personally would prefer to see 0% of butt cheeks while shopping for fruit. Also, DON’T pair said shorts with a belly top that shows not only belly, but also multiple belly rolls. Also, DON’T pair this ensemble with heels that your fat ass can barely teeter around in.

DO pull over to the side of the aisle to talk to your weird hippy friends about how much you like tofu so I don’t have to stop in the middle of the aisle next to Homeless McStinkerton while you have your chat.

Yours Truly,

Valerie aka The Bitch Glaring at You on the Pasta Aisle

11 Reasons Why I'm Disgusting Today

1) Yesterday I ate so much cheese that I'm pretty sure my body is forever going to smell of cheese

2) And I'm pretty sure I'll probably never poo again.

3) And I didn't just eat cheese and crackers, I ate the following concoction: one slice cheddar cheese covered in goat cheese with another slice of cheddar cheese on top. I call it a cheesy cheesewich.

4) I ate so much cheese I didn't even eat lunch.

5) Last night I drank a margarita with like two year old tequila while sitting in bed watching West Wing reruns with all the lights off and Mike snoring next to me.

6) I didn't brush my teeth after I drank the margarita and I'm pretty sure I went to bed with the majority of my teeth drunk off their asses.

7) I haven't washed my hair in like three days, (though I must say that it's not greasy at all and looks better dirty...by principle that's still pretty disgusting).

8) I haven't showered yet today and it's 9:20am.

9) I woke up to a dog licking my face and I just now remembered that my mom caught her eating cat poop last night.

10) I've worn the same pajama pants for like a week straight now, but I change when people are home to hide my disgustingness.

11) I walked around with all of my fingernails painted except one of my thumbs for like three days because I was too lazy to paint just one fingernail.

A Tid Bit Over Emotional

I caught myself staring at our garage cat, (not to be mistaken by a house cat...this cat is a terrifying species known as garage cat who eats small birds and attacks your feet when you're trying to do the laundry), as she lay in the sunlight on our back porch this morning. I decided after awhile that she looked sad which in turn made me sad and I started to worry about whether or not she was happy. Then I realized...that's a pretty irrational thought and also who gets emotional over a garage cat? It made me think that I get pretty emotional over irrational things quite often. Here is a list of things I have gotten emotional over lately that are just plain silly:

- garage cat and whether or not she is cold living in the garage
- the dogs that were up for adoption at PetSmart on Saturday...I no joke got teared up in the store looking at them
- when people get kicked off of So You Think You Can Dance
- when Kristin Chenoweth talked about John Spencer, (Leo from the West Wing), dying in her book A Little Bit Wicked
- this sad looking obese man in a wheelchair at the air and space museum when we were visiting my dad
- bum dogs as in dogs that are owned by bums...I worry about what the bums feed them
- Tuffy...he always looks sad right?!
- wondering why can't Kristin Chenoweth and Aaron Sorkin just work it out already?!
- why can't all the Real Housewives of Atlanta just get along?!!

P.S. A few minutes ago garage cat tried to bite my toes because I wouldn't let her in the house so I don't feel sorry for her anymore.

Wino / Wine No?

"If God forbade drinking, would He have made wine so good?"
Cardinal Richeleu


"Wino Forever"
Johnny Depp
(His tattoo that originally read 'Winona Forever')

Ever since I started enjoying wine, (which I'm pretty sure either started with dating Mike or REALLY started with working at my last job...the place of nightmares...the place we shall call CPA Hell), I started having the urge to have at least one glass every night after dinner. Which, you know, when typed or said out loud doesn't sound THAT bad. It's one glass of red wine a night, that's good for your heart right? No one gets drunk off of one glass of wine....well maybe my mom but she's a tiny little lightweight so that doesn't count. And let's be honest, while working at CPA Hell, I deserved a damn glass of wine when I got home! Here, give Mike these two options: 1) have Valerie come home and bitch and moan to you like the whiny cow that she is or 2) let Valerie have a glass of wine and watch her slip into the comfy warm blanket that is a glass of good wine after a bad day of work. He chooses option number 2. Every time.

It eventually got to the point though where my head decided that I would not be able to properly sleep if I did not have said glass of wine. And then my head put two and two together that if, after said glass of wine, I was not tired enough to go to bed, I should have another, bigger glass of wine. This is not a great idea on a work/week night. This is also not a great idea for your budget because, well killing a bottle every couple of days adds up. So you buy cheaper wine for after work glasses and then this gives you heartburn which makes you a whiny cow anyways and it's a vicious cycle. So after these last couple of years of drinking a glass of wine almost every night before bed and now even after escaping from CPA Hell, (straight into Unemployment Hell I might add), I still crave a glass of wine, (or two or three), every night before bed.

So, great expanse of endless Internet, I ask you this question. To wino or not to wino? Should I cut it down? Is this actually bad for me because it sure as hell doesn't help me sleep! Maybe I'll have a glass of wine with breakfast and think it over...

P.S. I had an epiphany last night. I know what I can do to cut down my late night wine drinking! I'll have margaritas instead! What else does one do with the over two years old bottle of tequila that you left in your mom's fridge the last time you lived here AND the semi-new bottle of tequila that you brought with you when you moved back? Make night time margaritas of course! Problem solved. Thanks Internet!

Unemployment = Rambles

So as anyone that actually knows me knows, (because I've probably whined about it every single day for almost two months), I am unemployed. By choice. Because apparently I'm a big fat genius.

You know, I was a little embarrassed about following a boy to Bakersfield, but I was 19 at the time and he was my first love and I was naive blah blah. So...I'm going to take a mulligan on that one.


I was a little less embarrassed when I followed another boy to Chico because I was older and wiser and really had jack shit else going on in my life and Chico is definitely a step up from Bakersfield so we'll call that one a draw.



Now, lo and behold, I have followed a boy BACK TO RIDGECREST. You know Ridgecrest right? That tiny little town that is composed of 25% white trash, 50% dirt, 15% tumbleweeds, and 10% pregnant chicks because let's face it, there's nothing else to do in Ridgecrest except get knocked up. Mike and I were both born and raised here and both swore up and down that we would never end up back here. So imagine our shock and amazement when we agreed to move back. Yes, Mike got a great job opportunity, yes houses here cost like a dollar, yes both of our mothers live here, yes it only takes five minutes to drive everywhere in town and there are no freeways, but come on....you've got to admit it's a step back.


So by my calculations, my "following dudes around California" score is: 1 mulligan based on age and naivety, 1 draw because Chico food is worth following any half good dude there, and 1 super embarrassing, but smart decision downgrade. So it's pretty much Val - 0, Universe - 3.

Shit.

So, I'm unemployed and home alone all day and doing my housewife duties only kills about an hour a day so you...yes YOU, you employed people with your jobs and your school and your lives. You are now forced to read my rambles. That way everyone is a little punished and as they say, unemployment loves company...