Moving on Up
I haven’t done shit all day but fuck around on AIM and look at fetish porn. I love legs. Man. Whew. Gimme a tall drink of water with nice full lips and a purdy smile and I am a happy girl. Honorable mention for nice racks btw. *ahem* Thank you ALT+TAB keys for painlessly switching my screens to the open Excel spread sheet I have up as a cover when people walk into my office. *mwuhahahaha* Man good thing we don’t have in house IT people here or else I would get busted for looking at porn at work. Hey I can’t help it, chicks are so niiiice to look at and I get bored and lonely. *hehe*
The phone rings during the 30 minutes once a week I have to cover the switchboard and of course, as luck would have it, I get the one fucking nut job calling:
“Ramona?”
*static blaring over line*
“No Ramona here, wrong number.”
*click*
*ring*
“*name of company*, how may I help you?”
*eyes rolling because I can hear the static*
“Ramona?”
“NO RAMONA HERE SPARKY. YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER!”
*click*
*ugh*
*ring*
“Fucking hell brains.”
“*name of company*, how may I help you?”
“...*static*...YOU FUCKING WHORE.”
*click*
*laughing uncontrollably*
What the fuck? Just because HE has the wrong number, I am a whore? Sorry but you dropped your issues. Geez. I wanted to call back and ask him if I was the whore or Ramona was the whore because obviously if he spoke english well enough to know what a "Fucking whore" was, he would understand "No Ramona here, wrong number.", wouldn't he? I felt like I needed clarification and if it was Ramona who indeed was the fucking whore, what happened? Did she fuck his brother? His sister? is gramma I felt inclined to know having suffered the mental anguish of the traumatic phone attack. Inquiring minds wanna know dammit!
Oh and yesterday I get this call from a tenant (I am operations manager for residential and commercial properties so basically what that means is I keep shit organized and when the managers can’t handle someone, I get to deal with them) in one of our low-income housing buildings and she sounded exactly like the “Weee-woooo” lady in Kung Pow: Enter the Fist so already I am trying not to laugh:
“Hello, this is Rachel.”
“Yes hello uhhhheeeeee are yoouuuu ebicting me?”
“What unit are you in?” *checks* “No ma’am, we are not evicting you. You paid your rent.”
“Yes but uhhhhheeeee are youuuu ebicting me?”
*sigh*
“No ma’am, why would I evict you if you are current with your rent?”
“My uhhheeee apartment is bery dirty.”
*Is she kidding me?*
“Ok, well, by law no landlord can evict a tenant for poor housekeeping ma’am. In the event you move and we need to clean and repair damage to the unit, those costs will be deducted from your security deposit but we…”
“Uhhhheeeeee will you inspect my apartment please?”
“You want me to inspect your apartment for what?”
“To see if it’s dirty.”
“You just told me it’s dirty.”
“But I want to make sure you aren’t going to ebict me.”
*sigh*
“I am not going to evict you.”
“When will you inspect?”
“I will send someone over in an hour.”
“I want you to come.”
*sigh*
“Ma’am I am one hour north of your location and could never get clearance to go out in the field to simply look at a dirty apartment.”
“Are you ebicting me?”
*sigh*
“Ma’am I have work to do and I am hanging up now. Have a nice day and all you need to do is clean up your apartment for your own peace of mind.”
Jesus.
As some of you know, I am moving to LA in June (I already told you why Pisser so don’t even start with me *smirk*) so I was writing out my plan (fuck off I’m a Virgo, I can’t help it but be annoyingly organized) and realized that I am making things really hard on myself and my kid. In his short 6 years of life, he has experienced a divorce (I left the asshole sperm donor when he was 11 months old, didn’t want my kid to grow up learning that it was ok to beat women up and to this day he only bothers to see his kid maybe 8 times a year at best), a break up (the only Dad he has ever known, he was with us since he was 2, we broke up in November of last year), the rehoming of a cat (dumbass me bought a Bengal that loved to shred your skin), and 2 dogs (first dog was also psycho and a runner, gave him to a lady who has a farm and second dog my ex took with him when he moved out – without asking mind you) and now he will be moving away from his grandparents who have been very involved in his life since we moved back in 1998, leaving his daycare where he has been since he was 2 and his school…it sucks.
I know life is hard sometimes and change is necessary at times but I cannot shake the guilt. I picture our life when we move. I have 5 years of college left to attain my PhD in psychology so I would have to take a 14-unit schedule year-round, work part time (at least 32 hours a week) and still find the time to spend with him and do homework; which makes spending time with him sound like a job and that in itself sucks sweaty balls. I have been able to swing school & work till now because my folks have helped me out with picking him up and babysitting. I won’t have that anymore and I will be damned if my kid is going to sit in school then daycare from 8:10am to 6:00pm five days a week and then only have a few hours with his mom before she has to start doing homework. Nuh uh, fuck that. He isn’t going to be little forever. He needs me now, especially now that I have decided to change our lives so drastically by moving.
I did a lil' Q&A with myself and I decided to switch gears. It went a lil' somethin' like dis. Hit it.
What is most important? My kid is.
What does he need? He needs me, my time, my support and love.
What can I do to give that to him? Be there.
How? Put school on the shelf and find work that allows you to have more control over your life.
What kind of work? Stick with what you know.
Whoa.
Main Points of Q&A
*drumroll*
So I decided to get my real estate license. This will afford me flexibility of schedule so that I can have time to spend with my son and once I get on a roll with it, if I do want to go back to school, I can. Just the thought of being able to sign him up for soccer and be able to take him myself every practice & game is well, it makes me misty just thinking about it, folks.
I am going to finish out this semester of college and get the online study real estate books, take the test and hopefully get hooked up with a good firm. I've heard the test is hard but I know some real idiot agents so if those fuckwits passed it, my Dean's Highest Honors List winning ass can certainly do it too.
Luckily I know some really successful agents up here so I am crossing my fingers that they can hook me up with someone in LA who wouldn’t mind showing me the ropes.
So that’s what’s new with me folks. Lots of big changes to come and I will keep you posted on the carnage I leave in my path. >:?)
posted by Rachel @ 1:31 PM
3 Comments:
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