Okay, so I went to Maurices yesterday for one T-shirt, and when they didn’t have the colour I wanted, I got two sweaters. I was browsing their site today as I watched the finale of The IT Crowd, and noticed that they were offering free two-day shipping if you paid with PayPal. I have my Amazon VISA linked to my PP, and I get points wherever I use it (though fewer than at Amazon), plus they still had the two studded tank tops I wanted, and I still had a 20% off regular price stuff shopping pass. Long story short, I got my T-shirt, and the studded tops in both colours, and free two-day shipping. Either Maurices or PayPal (or both) may think they’re getting a new email address to market, but I’ll either opt out after the first one, or if there’s no opt-out, I’ll just set a junk filter for whatever I get. Maurices already has my Gmail address, and PayPal already has my Charter address, so I don’t care what they send. At least it’ll be better than the stupid shit I STILL get from University of Arizona because those fucking morons didn’t know their own email address and gave out mine.

Okay, so I probably didn’t need the two sweaters, but they’re lightweight and high-low, and I couldn’t decide whether I liked the brown or rust better for fall and to go with the scarves I’ve bought from China over the summer, so I did what I usually do…I didn’t choose. Anyway, they were 40% off, so I didn’t spend much more for both than I would have to buy one at full price, and I didn’t pay more than “like worth” price, so it’s fair. The real score was the coated jeans I’d been eyeballing. I like them, and Levis skinny jeans usually have a 32″ inseam, which works for me in skinny jeans. I loved the colour “fig”, and since Amazon had them on sale and I applied my points, I ended up paying $7.95 for jeans that retail at $88.00, and to me, that’s a win. Under $50 for two sweaters and a pair of decent-quality skinny jeans. Yeah. Go, me!

A “tad”…a small amount. A “bit”…a small amount. A “tad bit”…redundancy exhibited by illiterate morons who obviously can’t define two three-letter words. Tad. Bit. You may choose one.

P.S. Oh, and according to Experian and Equifax (Trans Union got it right), I have a mortgage that started in 2009, and I also have a car loan. Neither of these things is true–I didn’t even apply for a mortgage in 2009, and I own HKLRSC outright–but getting it fixed will be a nightmare of epic proportions because the error is in my SSN somehow, and those motherfuckers have no incentive to correct anything. Yippee. It better not fuck with our VA loan, though. It just better not.

So peaceful here at 6:55 AM. Redheaded Retard is sitting on the back steps; hacking, spitting, vomiting and belching as he talks to himself and music blares in the not-so-background. Must be one hell of a hangover. Oh, wait…now he’s screaming, “IT’S SATURDAY!” over and over at the top of his lungs. I don’t even need a calendar to know what day it is–how wonderfully handy! The Backyardigans aren’t up yet, but at this rate, I’d expect they will be soon. Now he’s singing, though not the song that’s actually playing. Yeah! Turn the music up…love that jungle beat at 7:02 AM!

Jesus H. Christ. I don’t care if your fat fucking cow-mother dropped dead after costing the taxpayers 40 thousand-plus dollars in an attempt to save her worthless life; you’d be doing this shit anyway because you always have, so I’m afraid I’m fresh out of fucking sympathy. We can’t get out of here fast enough. About 30 days…if I last that long.

Jesus, if we get the keys to this house with our sanity intact, it’ll be a fucking miracle. Now to find out whether an honourable discharge and a general honourable discharge are the same as far as a VA loan is concerned. RD is out; we make too much money. FHA is already fine, but more up front and more per month, so less desirable. *sigh*

I was after two wasps and a locust borer, but that stupid cat kept winding himself around my legs and the movement scared them off. I’ll settle for a pretty Painted Lady.

Inspection went okay; the fuses are an issue, but the wiring itself is okay. No word yet on RD financing, but I hope we can do that and not have to go FHA. We’ll see; not out of the woods yet!

Two fire trucks–one a full size ladder truck–and two ambulances to haul that fat sow’s worthless, white trash carcass to the hospital. They requested the ladder truck; I’ll guess because it had some sort of specialised breathing equipment aboard. That fucking old cow worked for the state, so great health insurance, but was on medical leave, so we pay for that, too. Trying to get disability, no less. Why did she have back problems, bad legs and COPD? Maybe something to to with the 150 extra pounds of weight–all carried high like a good heart attack risk–the mounds of junk food that made up her diet, and the refusal to quit smoking. That stupid, fat fuck is costing us a fortune for a life probably not worth saving, and on top of it all, spawned a crotchfruit incapable of keeping a job picking up trash. How the fuck do you get fired from a job like that? I don’t even mean being a trash guy, driving a route. I mean driving around the grounds of a railyard in a golf cart, picking up trash and emptying garbage cans. Worthless, both of them…and we’ll go from paying his unemployment to his welfare when the cow dies, to paying to keep him in jail somewhere because he’s a human(-oid) fuck-up. Jesus H. Christ.

Home inspection is tomorrow, and I dropped off the cheque for the appraisal today. I’m trying not to be excited because the inspection concerns me, as it would for any older house, but then the fucking Backyardigans roll in with their squalling crotchfruit, or that goddamned gross psycho hawks up a giant loogie at 6AM while I’m trying to enjoy my coffee, and I think I just can’t stand it any longer. In good news, Cindy said that if the inspection goes well and we’re on our way to light at the end of the tunnel, she’ll stop by and help me figure out what the yard needs (and where). If we get that far, I’ll start trenching my shrubs. We’ll see.