I’m going to give everyone who has never been through the Machiavellian process of buying a house a little tip to prepare them for the experience:

You will never, ever be fully prepared for the experience of buying a house.

At the beginning of this foray I was operating under the misguided assumption that actually finding a house that I wanted, in the right neighborhood, the right size and at the right price was the hardest part of this little venture. We spent years mentally and financially preparing for this, going so far as to move back in — for as long as it took — with my mother in order to eliminate as much of the extra financial baggage we’ve gathered up over the years. Anyone who knows my history will realize that this was a "trial of Job." Once we were in a better spot and the interest rates had plummeted low enough, we set out to see about a loan and to find the perfect domicile.

Getting a loan estimate is easy. Any homeless guy on a street corner can give you one. Our debt-to-income ratio was dandy, so we qualified for a decent sum right off the bat. "That wasn’t so hard," I said to myself. Fool!

We then proceeded to spend a helluva’ lot of time looking at houses. Our tastes being what they are, we saw a lot of nice places that didn’t suit us. We continued to search. The hunt went on. And on. We looked high and low, the whole while the interest rates dropped further, and then silently crept back up without making so much as a peep. We were starting to get a little worried that we would never find a place to our liking, much less before the rates were high again. Still, we weren’t going to compromise and settle for a piece ‘o crap just to keep our interest rate low.

Then we got a lucky break. Our agent told us about a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods we had been sniffing around and it hadn’t even been put on the market yet. We would have a chance to snipe this place before anyone else had set foot in it… provided it was to our liking. We got the address and drove past it two days before we were slated to see it officially. We were pleased with what we saw, considering what they were asking for it. Holy smokes, it looked great on the outside, if not a teensy bit small. Here’s hoping it’s nice inside.

It was.

We were supposed to go look at five houses that night, this one being the first. We never made it to the other four, we had however driven past them a few days before, and so had a partial opinion on them. What, you think we don’t do our homework? C’mon, this is Stuff and Lady we’re talking about here.

One foot over the threshold, and the good vibes struck instantly. The place was immaculate. The old folks living there now (the original owners, by the way) took spectacular care of the house and property. It was a little dated, but in great shape. We can always modernize the place as we go.

At 5:30pm we were shown the house. We went back to the real estate office, wrote up a bid on the house and submitted it at 7:30pm. By 9:00pm the bid was accepted, and we were under contract. Talk about fortune smiling on us.

That was when life got difficult.

There are so many things to accomplish in the thirty day contract period between the acceptance of the bid and closing. Our house owning friends gave us lots of advice, but they didn’t prepare us for everything. I will find myself in the middle of a discussion with them about our latest home purchasing nightmare, and they’ll interrupt and say "Oh yeah, I remember going through that, it was rough." and all I can reply is "Gee, thanks a lot! You could have mentioned that when you were giving me your self-proclaimed ‘comprehensive report’ of what pitfalls to expect. Fuck! Would have been nice to see THAT one coming".

In the beginning I started likening the whole experience to taking a walk and getting stones in your shoe. While it doesn’t keep you from reaching your destination, you do have to stop, take your shoe off and shake the stone out before you continue.

Fuck that. I was very, very wrong.

My new, and more appropriate analogy is that the boat you willingly boarded has sunk in the ocean and you have to swim to shore. There are fins circling in the water ahead of you. You don’t know which of them are sharks, and which are dolphins. The sharks will take a chunk out of your ass, and the dolphins will, at best, look at you with a great deal of indifference. You can, if your will is strong, punch a shark square in the nose to drive it away with no guarantee that it will not come back more pissed off than before.

We’ve knocked the crap out of our share of sharks on this little swim. Our fists are getting sore, and it’s getting harder to keep our heads above the water. There are only two fins directly ahead of us, and if our luck holds out, they’ll turn out to be a pair of friendly dolphins that will leave us the fuck alone. After that, all we have to do is cling to a piece of flotsam and drift to shore.

There are so many things to do, get, sign, arrange and pay for before you can close on a house. You better make damned sure the funds for your down payment and closing costs are from an über legitimate source — monetary gifts do not count unless you’ve had them in the bank for a long while. Have an extra, extra reserve of cash on hand for the unforeseen expenses that are unavoidably going to surface. Get your debt as low as you can. Don’t jump on a FHA loan first thing; you’ll make out better with a conventional one. Put as much down on the house as you can at the time of purchase — the closer to 20% the better — unless you go FHA, then it won’t matter.

That’s just the few common sense details I can list. I don’t have the energy to go any further. I’m water logged, cold, and looking for the nearest bit of floating debris to hold on to.

Fucking sharks.

I’m exhausted.

Tonight, Lady and I submitted a bid on a house, which was consequently accepted. It happened that fast — about 2 hours. The house never even hit the open market, and had it, it would have lasted as long as a Black Angus steer in a piranha stream. Next come the inspections to make sure it’s not a clunker. Nonexistent deity, help me.

It’s a little smaller than we would have liked, but it’s perfect for our budget. The neighborhood is great, the house is immaculate — with the exception of some modernization — and the back yard & patio are made for entertaining and partying. All of our shit will fit in there comfortably, and it’ll be nice to get it all out of storage.

Crap, I hope we get this house. After months of searching, we’ve finally found a bona-fide winner. Both Lady and I got fantastic vibes from the second we walked in the door. It’s a warm and welcome house with New Orleans charm and has seen many years of tender loving care by the folks we’re buying it from, who are the original owners, by the by. This house has seen a lot of good times, and it’s going to see a heap more if we can get in there.

We’ll even have our own Tiki god to watch over us, if they leave him.

I’m exhausted. My brain is stew, and the stress is only beginning. I’m going to pass out for a while.

It’s been a busy-as-da-fuck weekend. Friday evening started at a luau party and ended with the previously posted party at Jabba Jaws that had me marveling at Krazy’s mixologist and bedside manner skills. As an update, Mensa got totally pickled and still has trouble remembering most of the evening at Jabba Jaws, so… money well spent, I guess. Thanks goes to Pounders for stepping up and keeping him from going toxic.

Had a nice Saturday afternoon tooling around Magazine St. with Pounders hitting Brew Ha-Ha for a fermentation bucket and a guided tour of the place. I think I’ve been bitten by the home-brew bug courtesy of that loveable lug, and I’m easing into it slowly by making several varieties of "bounce", which require patience but no actual brewing skill. Coming to a liver near you… blueberry, raspberry and cherry bounce — in honor of my dad who used to make a wicked wild cherry bounce. It’s all downhill from here.

After Brew Ha-Ha, we stopped as Juan’s Flying Burrito for a bite to eat, and let me tell you it was tasty as all get out. Unfortunately, Juan played two encores and made several curtain calls a few short hours afterward — Thirteen & Stirfry, I sincerely hope the contractor can rebuild your guest bathroom and get the scorch marks off of the porcelain. Which brings me to the visit to their house where the Lady and I played one enjoyable, but painful to my lower intestine game of Cranium (owing to Juan making several comebacks).

Sunday was spent shopping for cherries and booze to make the bounce. I spent more hours than I care to count pitting fresh bing cherries today. My fucking back is killing me. Do you know it takes a metric ass-ton of cherries and brandy to make cherry bounce? Holy crap! It’s for a good cause, though… World Domination Through Intoxication. Yeah, I’m fighting for Ponders’ cause.

There’s a bit of fun for you here. It’s a bunch of contestants on a Japanese talent game show performing a live-action Matrix type of ping-pong game. Very well orchestrated, and clever to boot.

Lady, Mensa and I went to the big bash at Jabba Jaws tonight, and it seems to have been a rousing success. Krazy was truly in his element, and I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy in a long time. He was busy — overwhelmingly so at times — but he handled the rushes with a grace and speed conceived from years of playing the perfect host during the Mardi Gras season. He seems to have found a comfortable niche, and the niche has found him.

I was asked if I enjoyed the party tonight, and I did, but not for reasons most would expect. I’m no party-boy by any stretch of the imagination. I’m more of a homebody kinda guy, but I like to have people in my home, so it all balances out. Going to this party for the party’s sake isn’t what stirred me. I went to support my friend at a time and place that was Important to him. Yes, important with a capital "I".

It was a landmark moment in Krazy’s new career, and I wanted to share that with him because it means a lot to him to have his friends around at times like these. It made me happy to see him gliding around like a whirling dervish behind the bar, pouring out drinks and popping the tops off of beer bottles with a deft flick of the wrist, never once looking at his belt when drawing or sheathing his opener.

Never did that satisfied half-grin leave his face, even when he screwed up his expression with confusion at something, or dissatisfaction with the other bonehead behind the bar who kept getting in his way and screwing up his flow. That is what made me happy, to sense the waves of glory emanating from Krazy and to know that I might have contributed to it a little bit by showing up and hanging out. Of course, I also wanted to make sure that I had a hand in him going home a few duckets heavier at the end of the night so I tipped as well as I could for the few beers that I had.

Congrats Krazy, and I’m glad Dame Fortune has finally turned her pretty face your way. Let’s hope she watches you for a while. Vincero!

I have found someone worthy of my heartfelt respect and admiration. This lady here writes with such elegance and ease, and wields the sharpest tongue I have seen in many a year. She makes me look like a fucking boyscout with a serious mission to earn his place in heaven early in life.

Check out the rest of her site, dooce.com, but you might want to start here, where she not only tells you a little about herself, but links to some very tasty entries to read, including that gem I linked up top.

Oh, and if you want to jump into some fairly funny shit right away, go straight here.

Hello and welcome to DmentD’s eddying, sucking void of time. I’ve managed to broadcast this message to the outside world utilizing the raw power of my will, boosted by regular caffeine injections administered directly to the base of my skull.

So, Lady and I are still on the great house-hunting safari and we have one interesting prospect in mind, but there are… complications. To start with, buying a house is a nerve racking experience, especially for folks like us who are in an unusual position of having more expensive tastes than our budgets can afford. So, in order to buy a house that is large enough for our needs, allow us to entertain, be comfortable without busting at the seams, in one of the few areas we prefer and at the right price, we have had to do a tremendous amount of searching.

The current house that interests us has issues. It was bought by the current owners with the intention of being shored and renovated before re-selling at a higher price. Now living in New Orleans, more generally in southern Louisiana, has the distinct disadvantage of putting you on softer ground (what with that whole below sea-level, water table 18" below the ground nonsense), which means that heavy structures like, oh, let’s say a house have a tendency to settle a bit. It’s a common problem, and there are solutions — shoring. There are inherent problems with shoring, like finding a reputable company to do it. Even then, it takes a few years to know if the reputable company has done a good job. It also detracts from the overall value of a house as compared to one that is still level without the need of any assistance. Not a bad deal for folks like us with expensive tastes and small budgets, but can cause headaches when folks like us go to sell the house years later. The work has already been done and I’m checking references from the company that has done the work, which incidentally comes with a lifetime transferable warranty. Dilemmas ensue.

Secondly, the renovations have me a bit worried. I want to be assured that they don’t skimp on anything and do it properly. I also want to be sure that they do as much work as possible to fix the place up as that means less money, sweat and time I have to spend in the future to do the work myself. Of course, there are things that they definitely aren’t going to do, but are they insignificant enough to overlook when considering this house. Of course, this is mostly all negotiable when you put the bid in on the house. Our real-estate agent advises us to "get it all in writing" so that if they skimp or don’t do something we have on paper, we can hold their feet to the fire.

The last qualm I have is the final value of the house. The folks renovating the place bought the house for a steal, owing to the amount of work it needed. Once all is said and done, is the house really going to be worth the increased price they’re asking for it? After all, unless you intend to live in a house for the rest of your life, you’re making an investment in property that needs to gain in value as time goes on. Even if the value stays the same over the years, you’re still losing money.

So, we’ve been doing a tremendous amount of research. We’ve been talking to everyone we know who has ever bought a house, done renovations or had a home shored. I’ve been an internet researching fool. My ear is taking on the shape of my phone from making so many calls. In the midst of all this we’re still looking at other houses, because if all of our concerns don’t have satisfactory answers, we’re ejecting this prospect like a bad case of food poisoning.

It’s been a long road, and I expect it to go on for a while longer. The house hunt is only one of the many loverly things shaking our lives up these days. If you are good boys and girls, I might tell you all about how I became Queen Of The Bingo later this week(end). It’s a daunting tale about the challenges each human faces, and the hurdles we each must clear to make it to the top and snatch that "crown". There’ll be a picture, too. Aren’t you lucky?

End transmission.

H’okay  folks.  This is an official announcement for a group event.  Friday, July 11th is opening night for The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and I intend to see it with as many of you as are willing to go.  Afterwards, we’ll go to Outback, and have a nice steak dinner, darlinks.

The details are a follows:

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
AMC Palace 20 — Elmwood
8:00pm

I suggest you buy your tickets in advance.  Dinner after the movie.  Heavy drinking after dinner.

Comment with your intention to attend, and we’ll try to coordinate arrival times, holding seats, etc.

Be there, or be trapezoidal.

Ok, now this is rich. I stumbled across a site named Things My Girlfriend And I Have Argued About. Thank me later when you can breathe.

So, this week brings two of the landmark events of the year together.

First and foremost, RhondaLady and I have been married for eight years as of today, June 30th. All told, we’ve been together for fourteen years. Yes, Methuselah catered our reception — and a number of you dear readers were there, getting drunk for nary a thin dime I might add. Good job, that’s what the booze was there for.

Second, my blushing bride will be another year older on Friday, July 4th. Yup, she’s a Yankee Doodle Dandy. Correction, she’s my Yankee Doodle Dandy. I don’t think she’s squeamish about her age, but discretion is the better part of valor, so I shant bring it up here. Ask her your own damned self.

I swear, I don’t know how she puts up with all of my crap. I’m not the easiest person to live and deal with on a daily basis, but I do the best I can to be the best person, and husband that I can. I love her dearly, and not just for not killing me yet. She’s the most wonderful person I know, and I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without her.

RhondaLady my dear, I love you more than I could ever convey with words. For once, I am at a loss to express myself.

I do a fair amount of web surfing, and I have a meandering path of sites I read on a regular basis. I refer to them as My Dailies, even though I don’t catch them all every day. Of course all of you — my homies — get a few hits every day. I then have my news sites, comic sites, gaming & industry sites and my complete stranger sites.

The "complete stranger" sites are the ones I’ve stumbled across through one or more different avenues of links. I honestly couldn’t tell you how I found most of them. Internet journaling and blogging are not new concepts by any stretch of the imagination, but have been catching on more and more in recent months. It’s quite a phenomenon, and I’ll discuss this at a later time. These complete strangers most typically are bloggers. They’ve turned out to be fairly interesting people to read even, likely especially, never having met or even spoken to them. That, I think, is part of what makes them so interesting.

One of these strangers — Erika — is a young lady who is a very talented artist. She, along with a select and devoted crew of equally talented young folks, produce their own web comics. Not your mainstream knee-slapping sort of rag, but some well written, composed, drawn and inked independent comics. Good stuff, really. One day I noticed that she linked to her LiveJournal from the comic page and I decided to have a peek, being the natural voyeur that I am.

The first thing I discovered is a very close, tight-knit community of friends, amongst which was Erika. They are fiercely loyal and protective of each other, regardless of their respective geographic locations, color, race, creed or sexual orientation. Sounds a little familiar to me, considering who my audience is. They all share a love for producing art and comics for the sheer joy of doing it, and they genuinely support each other in this endeavor.

Recently, Erika announced to the world that she was gay, and madly in love. Really no surprise if you read her journal long enough. One problem. Really, the biggest problem as I understand it. Family. Her mom. Seems mommy dearest didn’t take too kindly to the news. Her mom instantly latched on to the idea that her only daughter was going through some college rebellion phase in her life.

In an effort to help her family understand and accept, and to help organize her own thoughts and feelings about her sexuality, Erica wrote a short essay. Incidentally, she’s turning the essay into a forty-page comic for the San Diego Comic-Con.

Please take a few minutes of your time and go read the essay HERE. I promise, you won’t miss the time.

Here on my blog, I may give the impression that I am a harsh, foul-mouthed angry kind o’ guy. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I’m just a regular person, subject to the slings and arrows that the world flings at everyone. I pride myself on trying to be the best person I can, judging those around me on their merit and worth, not on the color of their skin, and especially not on whom they choose to love and keep close.

The world is a rough place to live in, and friendship can make the road we travel a little easier to handle. Love can make that road smooth as glass. Love will make you float inches above that pothole-strewn path. If you are one of the fortunate ones in this world to find a companion to buoy you up, to make you laugh during the day, keep you warm at night and put up with your crap around the clock, I don’t care who it is. You can be a lovely he-she, he-he, she-she or it-it couple, it doesn’t matter. Bravo, I say. Congratulations! Mazel tov!

When I read Erika’s essay, I was extremely moved. Here was a person who was trying her damnedest to make her mother understand, to really see her for who she is, and rejoice in her happiness. She took great pains to illustrate the loving relationship, regardless of the mating, or rather the non-mating parts involved.

I won’t lie to you and say that I didn’t think of some of my good friends… how could I not. My path in this life has crossed, and will cross that of many interesting people. Incidentally, several of them are gay. Captain once paid me the greatest compliment. Upon observing my casual attitude around him, he asked me point blank "you really don’t have any problems around gay people, do you?" I was shocked. Should I have problems? I didn’t think it was anything so remarkable. Apparently it was, especially in the South.

He was my friend, how could I have a problem with him? He wasn’t hurting me, or anyone I cared for. Nope, he didn’t have any puppy torturing equipment. No apparent weapons of mass destruction and a trigger. He occasionally fed me… hell, if you feed me every now and again, you’ve got a friend for life. What was the big deal? That whole loving, kissing, fucking other men thing? And? He wasn’t trying to fuck me, so it never bothered me. We respected each other as human beings, and that’s all that mattered.

It’s a shame that most of this "civilized society" we live is way too wrapped up in externals. It’s all about what’s in your head and heart that matters. If the planet were fueled by a little more mutual respect and common courtesy, we’d be a hell of a lot better off. I might not even curse as much. Nah, not likely.

Surround yourself with good friends — good people — and love ’em all. Those good people are a treasure greater than gold or diamonds. If you can find someone you can really Love, with the capital "L" and all, more power to you. Sure, you may bicker and fight now and again, but you’ll always get under the skin of someone you’re that close to. Just think of the "make-up" sex you’ll have.

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