tobermory's Diaryland Diary

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I will never have a house.

So, it looks like the house thang is on hold yet again. Apparently there is some hang up with the deed and Iím guessing by the non-call from our lawyer that nothing could get resolved at the hearing last Tuesday. It totally pisses me off that this lawyer is getting paid quite handsomely to NOT call us about things that we need to know. It further pisses me off that Steve isnít calling twice a day to get the fucker to call us back and let us know what the F is going on. Drives me freaking crazy - the passive-aggressive shit that he pulls. I want to know if there is someone in the court system that we need to see to get the deed released and if there is, how soon can we see them? Seems easy to me, but what do I know. I swear Great Uncle Joe is getting the last laugh on this house. Fucker. As if dying in the house and leaving a big, unremoveable dead-person stain on the floor wasnít enough, I feel heís somehow guiding this misadventure in real estate from the grave. Um, yes Ė I can back up there and explain that. Great Uncle Joe had many misfortunes in his life. He was a POW in WWII, which probably screwed him up a bit mentally. Put that on top of the fact that there was a pretty good chance he was a closet homosexual from a Catholic family and you get a crabby, anti-social, hermit. He was a house painter by trade but he worked only sporadically. He often checked himself into VA hospitals when the mood struck him. He walked up and down the alleys of his (now my) neighborhood and brought home garbage. Not cool stuff, garbage. Consequently, when he died Ė in the middle of a VERY hot July Ė nobody really noticed until a neighbor of his called Steveís dad because he hadnít seen Joe in the alley in a few days. Thatís a few 100+ degree days. Joe died of a heart attack on the first floor of the house and probably began decomposing immediately. He was pretty much a puddle of putrid jelly by the time the EMTís scooped him into the Ďtupperwareí as they call it, but by them some of Joe had seeped into the wood floor. Itís not thereís an outline of a person or anything Ė just a faint brown stain that was too deep for Steve to get out when he refinshed the floor. And no, we donít plan on mentioning this to potential renter when (if) the time ever comes, so keep it buttoned Ė OK? I realize this sounds like part of a Stephen King short story, but itís all true. Other than the legal misadventures, itís not like Iíve ever felt an evil presence or a cold breeze or seen a shadowy figure or anything like that. By the same token I donít really want to think about that kind of stuff too much or itíll wind up creeping me out. So Iíll just move on to another topic now before I weird myself out.

Tomorrow night I get to go see Kill Hannah Ė yippee! At least I THINK Iím going to see Kill Hannah. Theyíre playing a show at College of DuPage out in the boonies and it is being put on by either the student union or some piddly concert promoter, so getting tickets has been a huge pain in the booty. Megan has played phone tag with the promoters and given them her credit card number (I didnít have enough faith to do that) for the tickets, but she hasnít gotten called back to confirm her order. Weíre debating just deriving out there and taking our chances that either we have tickets reserved at some sort of low-grade Will Call window or that weíll have to take our chance at just buying tickets there. Iím imagining some sort of horrorshow where we drive an hour and a half out to Glen Ellyn only to be confronted by a huge line of sullen youth dressed in either all black or some sort of glittery concoction Ė all with the trademark arm sox despite the 90 degree heat Ė and no tickets to be had. That would completely suck-ola. Iím reminded of a My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult show that was put on by some would-be concert promoter at an Elks club in Kenosha. It had been promoted pretty heavily in the Chicago area Ė I know Iíd done my part giving away tickets on my college radio show. The poor Elks Club had no clue what they were in for. By the time I got up to Kenosha there was a giant line of urban freaks of the sort not often seen in Kenosha, Wisconsin waiting, not very patiently, to get in. And it was freezing out. I think there was some sort of security problem and the concert was also majorly oversold and theyíd probably promised more comps than they should have. Anyway. I cruised past a couple of times with my friend Kari and then we pulled up across the street. We sat for 15 minutes and watched the line not move. At all. So, we bailed and went to the Brat Stop for dinner. Iím hoping that tomorrow wonít be Poorly Promoted Concerts: The Summer Sequel. Whatever happens, Iíll let you know! Bye for now

4:38 p.m. - 2004-05-20

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