Archive for July, 2010

July 28, 2010

Finding the Perfect House Part III: Part 2: Fixing the Perfect House


Transformation: COMPLETE!

While I’m not exactly known for being manly, I am quick to start home improvement projects and repairs. Ask my fiancee; the first thing I did was start ripping out the carpet that hadn’t been changed since the late 60’s the second we moved in. It was a good 2 inch thick with various unknown fungi potentially living inside of it. Like many other older homes, (it was built in the 1940s), there is hardwood floor under all that carpet. Yet as I looked over the floors, I knew they would have to be sanded. Here’s a little bit of advice about sanding your own hardwood floors:

Don’t do it.

We spent about $200 and wasted a good week. Oh sure we made progress, but the whole process is long and tedious the point where you don’t see any change for a few hours. Then again, the contractor we later hired only spent a day sanding and it looked pretty much the same before he started staining.

But before we even go there, here’s a slide show of the before photos after the jump!

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July 26, 2010

Finding the Perfect House Part III: Part 1: Buying the Perfect House


(Where’s part one? Not sure, but I did get a phone call from her a few days ago. She said something about being in Reno. I think she was drunk dialing me from a party.)

After living at the House on Silent Hill for longer than I should have, my fiance and I moved in with her brother Mark. If this post counts as the Return of the Jedi, then what happened at Mark’s totally counts as a Shadows of the Empire section. Naked wampas and all.

Aw, isn't that bloodthirsty creature just adorable?

So anyway, jumping ahead to the end of our year at Mark’s, my fiance and I decided we had to get our own place. We began looking at ads for apartments but kept coming to the conclusion that they were either too expensive or too trashy (or sometimes both). Those in the middle wouldn’t allow us to bring cats. Someone, might’ve been my mother, then brought up looking for a house, adding that if we couldn’t get a home loan ourselves, they’d buy it and we’d rent it from them. Cool beans huh?

Well, turns out we could get a home loan. By we, of course, I meant my fiance. Apparently having a good, steady job and excellent credit does come in handy. And here I thought she was just wasting money with that credit card of hers. We ended up searching for homes in the same neighborhood as the House on Silent Hill since we really did like the neighborhood. Rather quickly we found a house that we both liked (not having black mold everywhere kinda helped) and we put a bid in on it.

Then they counter bid.

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July 23, 2010

So I got a dog, dawg.


I'm a dog, dawg.

For some reason, when you actually own a house or some land, something clicks inside of you. What looks like a mere house to others now seems like a whole country that needs protecting to your eyes. And what does every country need? Why a badass army along with a moat that has sharks, alligators, and sharks with lasers on their heads. (And cannons-we can’t forget cannons). Now since I can’t really afford to throw in a moat or cannons or anything else that cool, (and I don’t think alligators and sharks can co-exist when lasers are involved) I had to think of ways of making the place secure.  My cats don’t really seem to do the whole ferocious guard animal thing very well either.

Mind you, this wasn’t out of fear; I live in a pretty awesome neighborhood. However, I’m not in denial that Detroit is a mere mile away. Cops do patrol the area as if it was under martial law, but I wanted that extra bit so the damn kids keep the hell away from my yard too.

So I asked the Father-in-Law-to-be what he thought. He told me that his twin brother, a Federal Marshall (a very frightening set of realizations when I first met them, but that’s another story,) always said the best security was getting a big dog. I thought about this, and since the fiancee told me she wanted a dog to keep her company when I wasn’t around, we decided to get one.

I also enjoy doing things that Cory thinks are a bad idea.

We ended up getting a dog from the K-9 Stray Rescue League over in Oxford. We liked them because they actually update their website with who’s adopted and who still isn’t. That and we didn’t want to get some over-priced purebred dog that is probably the offspring of his mother and her sibling. Inbreeding does the same stuff to dogs that it does to people you know.

We brought her home a few weeks ago and decided to name her Misiu (pronounced “me” “shoe”, which is Polish for teddy bear). We were originally gonna name her Les (pronounced “lease”), which is Polish for Fox, since she kinda looks like one, but we aren’t renting her-we adopted her.  Thus Misiu.  She’s a pretty awesome dog, and we’re happy with her. After all, I do attract awesomeness so I really shouldn’t have been worried. Since we really don’t know what she is, we decided to make up a designer breed of German Retriever. Why? Well because actual designer breeds are not recognized by the American Kennel Association anyway.

Take that you Laberdoodle people.

And of course now I get to say stuff like, “When I got home, my bitch was so excited she pissed herself.”

Told you I like bad jokes. (True story by-the-way).

Although I’m told that spayed dogs aren’t bitches. Cause breeding dogs is serious business.

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July 15, 2010

First Acceptance, First Rejection


Like a shameless whore, I’ve been trying to think of everything I can to (slowly) break into my whole dream of making money off of writing. (Sorry hippies, I’m a capitalist and I got bills to pay). I knew part of this plan would have to do with getting into freelance writing just to have something published somewhere. Craigslist has been the biggest joke so far; where responding to a want-ad for a writer is like asking someone if they’d like to try to scam me.

But at least there's cake!

I mean really, how stupid do people have to be to buy the whole “Give us dollar amount X and then we’ll give you pamphlet B and you can start working. You give us money so we can know how serious you are, we’ll return it after you receive the pamphlet” thing? People that stupid deserve their money taken from them. I’m almost considering starting my own fraud project but these things called ethics are getting in my way.

Back to freelancing, I seemed to have found my answer in Demand Studios. Demand Studios hires freelancers to write quick 400-500 word articles for a bunch of different websites. You’ve probably run into them; eHow.com, Answerbag.com, LIVESTRONG.com, and a bunch of others. I applied for the site around a week or so ago and was accepted/hired in a few days. I was pretty pumped and began working on my first article right away. That article was “How to Get All the Characters on Mario Kart DS.”

No, I’m not kidding.  Demand Studios is often criticized for being a “freelance writing sweatshop” and usually pays their writers $15 per article. I’ll admit that it does feel like that most of the time sometimes, but money is money and I gotta start somewhere. I wrote the article a few days ago, an editor sent it back for a few changes, I made them, and the next day it was accepted! BAM! Just like that I was floating on cloud nine, happy as a clam, and every other cliche you can think of. I was now officially a freelance writer, so I claimed another article and took a shot at it. This time it was “Snowmobile Games for the Wii.” I choose it because it was a job where I just needed to list what Wii games were about snowmobiling and give brief descriptions. Easy right? Especially since there’s only two games for the Wii that are about snowmobiling. I wrote the article and sent it in, then got a request for a rewrite. The copy editor requested that I go into more detail about the games and try to find more games that had snowmobiling in them (there isn’t much). I didn’t really want to go in depth into the games because they all have bad ratings, but I did and made the changes the editor asked of me. I was feeling confident, and went about my day.

Then I found out my article was rejected.

In the words of Random Frat Boy A: “BUZZKILL BRO!” Now, I have been rejected before and even wrote about it, but this felt different. This wasn’t the rejection of a query, but the rejection of something I actually wrote for monies. I spent time on this. Oh sure, I got mad and cursed the luck of the editor and his family, but then I calmed down. The editor did write long notes about the article and they were very, very helpful. I know the guy (or girl) was just doing their job. I think part of the shock was that I didn’t realize that I only had two shots to write the thing. When I realized that, I sank into my little “blast Linkin Park in a dark room” mood (which for you youngins is a another way of saying “emo”). I sadly looked through the site for another job to claim, but couldn’t find anything to write about. There was only super-specialized articles left like “How to put a Honda Civic engine into a Ford Focus.” I should mention that I found articles under categories that didn’t make sense, such as the various car repair assignments filed under fucking literature. Literature! Who the hell is stupid enough to put that there?

Like the drama queen I am, I questioned everything from the worth and true level of my abilities to the very nature of reality. I mean hey, it’s totally possible I am a volunteer who is in an experiment were they wipe my memories and subject me to various forms of rejection right?

Yeah, I calmed down again from that too. Since I want to be a writer, I know that rejection is kinda in the job description. I need to get used to it and not let it get to me. I need to put a steak on my black eye, reapply my lipstick and hit the streets again-daddy’s got money to make! Or something.

July 9, 2010

FORCED INTEREST 2: Blogging


I’ve been meaning to try something. Apparently, the best way to get a ridiculous number of hits on your blog is to make a post about how to get a ridiculous number of hits. Even easier, apparently you just copy-pasta this guy’s post right here. This was recommended by this guy so you can’t get mad at me for it.

Man, life on the internet is tough these days; you have to outright steal stuff for attention. That or take photos of Miley Cyrus’s vajayjay. (If you want info on that look it up yourself).

Now, I like you guys (especially the robots that keep visiting on days that I don’t post anything). You inflate my tiny sense of self worth and ego so I’m going to try and make this easy on you guys. Sure, you could just not read the post but that’d be boring and lame. What I’m going to do is use a technique I invented in this post that I now call FORCED INTEREST (it must be yelled when spoken). What now follows is not going to actually be my writing. Nothing below this paragragh is written by me. Part of it will be this post while another will be bolded, classic, interesting literature. Can you guess where it’s from? It should be easy. (Hint: It’s the Divine Comedy by Dante).

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July 5, 2010

Jokes I’ve Played on Students 03


Students must think I’m bipolar as I often can be two very different people in one hour. I don’t like to be mean-I really don’t-but sometimes it’s just part of the job. I’m a sub after all. I like to be the nice sub, cracking jokes and allowing the students to enjoy learning, but we all know that cannot be the case every day.

At a certain middle school, in a certain school district, certain students have given me a name. When they see me standing in place of their teacher, a sense of anxiety overcomes them,

“It’s the Sub Who Plays the Mean Games!”

This title, rightfully bestowed upon me came from a multiple day job where I had a pretty unruly class. The teacher had left a long note warning the students that if the sub (that’s me) did so much as left their name down for anything they’d be getting a suspension. No questions asked. Cool huh? Well, I made it a point to explain this note to each class as they walked in,

My subbing face

“And here’s the best part guys!” I’d say, looking far more excited than I should have, “If I get mad at you, I get to write you up for a suspension. Which means I leave your name down and if that happens you get another suspension-that’s two for the price of one! Isn’t that awesome?”

They looked at me like I was insane.

This worked for a short while, but there was pack mentality and they became ridiculously noisy eventually. I needed to do something drastic,

“Alright class we’re going to play a game!”

Everyone stopped talking, but their eyes said more than you can imagine.

“First one to talk gets a suspension! Who would like to win the game?”

I made sure to grin as evilly and sadistically as I could.

“I don’t like this game,” one student groaned.

“TELL HER WHAT SHE’S WON!” I shouted singling her out. The student eyes widened larger than I think they ever had. Her face went pale and her mouth hung open by exactly a half inch.

“Can I keep playing, please?” she begged.

I smiled, “Of course you can.” I turned to the rest of the class, “Does anyone else want out of the game?”

They didn’t speak until the bell rang 30 minutes later.

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