tobermory's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pluck You! La la la. Today is a good day. All the paperwork is in at the bank and all I have to do now is call the company that is �hosting� the closing and find out exactly how huge the check is that I need to bring with me to the closing. It will be the most ginormous check I�ve ever personally had to sign. I will be so happy to put this fucker to bed that I�m considering bringing bottles of cheap champagne with me and spraying them around the room where the closing is held a la sporting title wins. Maybe I�ll even dump a tub of cold Gatorade over my lawyer. Then the real fun begins. Steve-o will be receiving a similarly ginormous check for his mechanics lien � for all the labor, architectural design work, and supplies that he has put into the house. This is money that we really kinda sorta need for a number of things � like finishing the house, buying me a car that doesn�t suck gas like a thirst crazed Bedouin, and other stuff that I�m probably forgetting about right now. But we can�t touch it for 5 years. That�s the statute of limitations that his crazy Aunt and Uncle have to sue over the amount. Gah. What really upsets me is that it�s five more years before I can order the big pink script neon sign that spells out �Fuck You C****� that will become our Christmas Card to Steve�s Aunt. I was so looking forward to spending some of the money on that. Strangely, I think that this might inflame them and cause them to step up their litigation, so I think it�s best to wait the full five years on that little accessory. I�m taking the spin class in the crowded sweaty room again today. This time I think I�ll try to get a bike that isn�t next to anyone so I don�t bump any hot slimy elbows. Ew. What�s totally excellent is that it�s over at about 5:15 which leaves me plenty o� time to run to the grocery store and stock up on foodables. Dare I say, the cupboard is bare? It is indeed. I have a recipe for homemade panko-breaded chicken patties that looks completely scrumptious and I�m itchin� to try it. I think I can get panko breadcrumbs at the Japanese market and then all I have to do is find the gumption to touch raw chicken. As far as I�m concerned, raw chicken is just about the grossest thing around. When I had two guy roommates who liked to cook, they�d chase me around the house with the nasty bits that they�d cut off the chicken boobs and I would run away squealing like a five year old girl. Once I was reading the paper in the kitchen and Jim, one of the two roomies, put some nasty bit on the back of my neck. I still shudder thinking about it. I�d rather have to step barefoot on a hairy spider. OK, that�s an exaggeration, but you get my point. I�ll have to see if the desire for golden crisp chicken patties outweighs the squickieness of the raw chicken. Mmmm. In the meantime, since I�m on my own for dinner tonight I think I�ll have a Chik�n�pattie sandwich. That�s un-chicken or faux fowl for those not in the know, and it�s a pretty good approximation of a school cafeteria chicken pattie. Tas-tee! Put that baby on a bagel and make a side of saut�ed spinach and there ya� go! By the way, on the tweezing front? I�m doing just fine, thanks! My eyebrows only require minimal touching up with the pencil thingy these days and I seem to have broken the habit of perpetually looking for teeny new hairs to pluck away. Remember: Don�t Fear The Tweezer. I just wanted to write that. This weekend Steve and I are headed up to the land o� cheese, America�s Dairyland, the place where Illinois drivers are hated: Wisconsin. We have free tickets to Friday�s Brewers game and I got a good rate at the Pfister (heh. I typed Pfister�.) which is Milwaukee�s nicest hotel. Is that an oxymoron? Like Jumbo Shrimp? Anyway, I�m looking forward to staying in stately grandeur with spiffy complimentary Aveda toiletries a huge tub and an indoor pool! I hope to god that they have an oldtimey hotel bar where Steve and I can whoop it up on Friday after the game and get suitabley plowed to celebrate our new homeownerosity, and then a fabulous breakfast spot where I can drown my hangover in bacon and eggs the next morning. Oh wait, I don�t get hangovers. That�s Steve who gets the hangovers. Bwaaahahahaha. We have a ton of stuff planned that will keep us on the run all weekend. My parents are coming up too because they�re fun to travel with and let�s face it, they pick up all the dinner checks. I don�t want to spill too many beans about this weekend or my Monday update will be sadly lacking in content, so I�ll shut up now. I�ll post tomorrow after I have my total of ginormousness that�s due to the bank-type folk if I�m still able to type after the shock. Steve stopped by the bank yesterday and seemed shocked by how nice everyone was. I countered with the fact that with the size of the wad I�m coughing up to them they had better be nice. That�s all for today � be back tomorrow. 3:49 p.m. - 2004-05-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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