Living Up To A Stereotype

You may have noticed from the last entry that I�m not feeling quite� chipper.

I�m not sure if I�m just settling in for nice long Winter depression or the disappointment of Watergate has finally hit me, but it�s probably just the fact that I have an actuarial exam on November 5th that I�m only marginally ready for. That, and I made a return visit to the dentist yesterday for an extremely painful teeth cleaning where the assistant lady chose the scrape and gouge method. She went at my teeth with those tools like I had done something to desecrate her family name. She looked down at me at one point, removing a finger drenched in blood from my mouth, and she said, �Have you ever noticed that your gums bleed� a lot?� Well, they do when you jab them with a fork, bitch.

I have more cavities than I do teeth, one of which requires a root canal. It looks like I�ll be spending every weekend there for months to come. There�s something to look forward to.

Studying for these exams really makes me feel stupid because they�re just so friggin� tough, it�s impossible to feel like you�re really ready to sit down and take the exam. Despite a full year of studying for this, I can�t say with any confidence that I�m going to pass it next week. But, instead of wallow in something that I can�t do, I�m going to boost my morale by reminding myself of something that I can do� Decorate. There�s a surprise, eh?

I bought my house when I was 23 years old. I had left Mr. Big News, and I wanted to buy my first house just to prove that I could do it on my own. To say that I could only afford a modest house is an understatement. I ended up buying from an older couple of 350-pound racist gun-enthusiasts that were getting ready to retire to a trailer in Pennsylvania. �It�s a double-wide,� the wife told me with genuine excitement in her voice. �Great,� I thought, �You�ll probably still have room for that gun rack that�s currently hanging above your bed.�

The fact that they were upgrading to a trailer should clue you in to the state of the house. For example, the living room:

Notice the brown shag carpeting? This was paper thin, installed sometime in the early 70�s by the husband, who in 30 years still hadn�t realized the importance of attaching the carpet to the actual floor. He just set it in place, so it would slide and shift when you walked on it. And the aroma was the unmistakable mark of the two dogs that had used the entire house as a toilet for the last decade.

How about that couch, isn�t she a beauty? They were kind enough to leave it for me, complete with the same aroma as the carpet and gigantic indentations in the cushions that I�m still puzzled by. Either this couch was 50 years old, or these two 350-pounders liked to sit on each other�s lap in order to apply as much pressure in one spot as possible. I thought they were being nice by leaving it, until I tried to move it. It took two full days to get that thing out of my house due to its weight and girth.

See the molding? Junk yard two-by-fours.

And now, a few family hand-me-downs, four gallons of paint, a rented floor sander, and a week later:

I just have one thing to say. The drapes? Hand sown by yours-truly.

Homosexuality: membership has its advantages.