In the Home Stretch

Almost Closed
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
Big news, sports fans! I'm halfway down the path towards being a homeowner in Houston, but all two members of the readership knew that already. This morning's closing proceedings were so exhausting that I had to rush right out to lunch and induce a food coma to make sure that my body didn't go into shock from having to think too much.

The closing process, so called because you are slamming the door on true adolescence and ultra carefree spending (at least til my trophy wife, a.k.a. rich lady who wants an eye-candy, stay home father for our ultimate team comes along), was really not that big a deal. Signing my name 71 times on multiple copies of the same forms, some in Spanish, did take a toll on me. Although at this point, the Escrow Officer could have told me that she needed me to get her name tattooed on my back and I would have done it.

On second thought, winning a damages suit for the carpal tunnel syndrome that I'm sure to develop would help pay for my new kitchen. Anyone got Morris Bart's number handy?


Kelly Clarkson Signals Anxiety

Kelly Clarkson
Originally uploaded by lannkaster.
I'm closing on my new place tomorrow morning and am about to have a Trainspotting style panic attack. I can't sit still. I haven't packed anything. My apartment is a disaster. I keep picturing Kevin Bacon as Chip from Animal House. He's screaming, "Remain calm all is well" but all I seem to hear is Kelly Clarkson singing "Since You've Been Gone."

Whoa Kelly Clarkson!

Time managment pundits on the InterWeb write about focusing on the quick wins and recent accomplishments to help you stay focused. Well, I've accomplished exactly five things on a to-do list featuring 62 items.

I'd try to get back on target, but my gCal reminder just sounded indicating it's time for more time sucking lunch.


Too Many Grits Not Enough Pot

Too Many Grits Not Enough Pot
Too Many Grits Not Enough Pot, originally uploaded by JaseMan.


I finally understand you, Courter....sort of

I was in Chicago on a business trip earlier this summer and stopped in at The Arch to visit with Boc and Courter, Hetero Life Partners, since I hadn't seen them in a while. Courter was in freak out mode concerning some mythical process called "closing."

Apparently this ritual is the final step in the home buying process and is very involved. In short, a "closing" is a meeting with lots of people whose titles include the word Officer. Fortunately, in this case you don't go to jail right away only after you burn down your house when you're about to default on your loan.

These officers insist that you produce all sorts of documentation which is about as fun as it sounds. You've got to make yourself comfortable with the fact that all these strangers will see the dirty laundry listed on your bank statements, pay stubs, credit reports, criminal records and even those notes from Mrs. Alario's second grade class that you have stuffed in the back of your sock drawer. It helps if you focus on the fact that you won't have to move again for a long
while once this "closing" is closed.

To drive home the fact that you're officially stepping all the way into the grown-up zone, you've got to sign your name and/or initials at least 135 times according to an independent third party named Alfie. Finally, the Officers get you to sign over all of your High Life fund in the form of some fat checks. Many of these checks are to pre-pay expenses for the upcoming year. I can't believe that they don't trust you to pay your bills even though they now know how your
income history since you started receiving allowance for not locking your brothers in the basement any more.

Courter was too frazzled to articulate what was driving him up the wall. I only know about "closing" because I am preparing for my first one on Monday.

I'm a nervous wreck. My procrastination has hit an all time high, which is to say that I'm doing anything but packing or work or other sensible, productive activities like lining up home owner's insurance. Instead I do time sucking things like reading RSS feeds for four hours at a stretch and pace the apartment from the kitchen/office to the bathroom and back. Hey, did you know that Bolivia might make it on to the UN Security Council? Great. That government is about as stable as Flavor Flav and Brigitte Nielsen.

This is coming from the guy who's likely to be rocking back-and-forth in the corner mumbling something about Judge Wapner and needing new drawers from K-Mart.


Top Five Things You Need to Know Right Now

Technical Difficulty
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
5. Superhero boots require a certain type of leg to be worn well by ladies. Oh, please don't wear them with cargo shorts.
4. Today's matinee feature at Sao Paolo Cinema was X-Men: The Last Stand which earned a B- overall, but was bumped up to a B+ for inducing a nap during the Deleted Scenes review.
3. I'm at Whole Foods Global HQ in Austin right now watching a dumbass dad let his toddler crawl up the down escalator. Anyone know a good vascular surgeon in the area? Me thinks some fingers are about to detached.
2. Preliminary research may have determined that there is a genetic link with Night Owl or Early Bird behavior patterns in 30-something, male ultimate players.
1. Apparently my cell phone needed more room in my pocket and beat the crap out of my camera. Fortunately my camera's service plan had not yet expired.


How I Spent My Monday

How I Spent My Monday
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
Torrential rain brought things to a halt at Houston Intergalactic airport and at any airport from which a flight was originating with the intended destination of Houston.

I was on the plane from 9:35 AM - 6:35 PM, most of which was spent at Louis Armstrong in New Orleans. We were only allowed to deplane for 45 minutes during which we missed a departure window because folks couldn't re-board fast enough.


Best Blonde Joke Ever

Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
This is usually the type of thing for forwarded emails and bathroom stall graffitti, but I thought everyone would get a chuckle out of this. Now quit putting white out on your screen and check out the best blonde joke ever.


14 Months, 16 Babies

Los Pedros
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
Nothing makes you feel like you're a bit behind the race pace like your friends and family hatching a dearth of young 'uns. Sure, most of the new parents are still a couple of years older than me, but damn, did you all drink the same Kool-Aid last year?

At least 16 babies have been born to my friends and family during the 14 months. The Rubinator started everything last August when she debuted on August 5, 2005. Then came Owen, Kaia on Valentine's Day, Briggs, Kalle, Zoe, Henry on my birthday, Gracie, Kate, Calvin, Adele, Saylor, Emmett, Isaac, Annelise & Grant.

I'd be loaded if I only I were innovative enough to invent something that all new parents needed tons of besides diapers and breast pumps.

I've learned two important things as a result of all these hatchlings: 1. you can get practically any crying infant to shut their yapper by bouncing them on one of those exercise balls (yeah, Kalle) & 2. don't drink the water at any of my friend's houses cuz that's how they got prego


Skeeter Killing Macheen

Brian, the Gecko
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
The busy season is in full swing these days. Thus, midnight oil is being burnt and Pandora.com is being blasted.

Last night I found myself daydreaming (is that even possible since it was 1 AM?) about PowerBall winnings when something darted across the sliding glass door in front of me. It was Brian, the gecko, trolling for some midnight cucina.

My work light brings all the skeeters to the yard. Damn right, it's better than yours. Brian chased down a few critters and then turned in for the night.

He's back tonight in full force having chased down at least seven mosquito hawks. Finally, a pet I can handle - cheap food, no shots and lives outside.

I'll work on training him to rollover when I get back from Atlanta.

This Just In

Breaking news at this hour: I'm back in the world of the pseudo-journalist. That's right friends and neighbors, I'm now a contributor to Houstonist, which means I've got a nifty new email address and am under the gun to write at least two posts a week. Yikes!

The first one is up, so I guess that's a good thing. Read it. Love it. Send me idears.


Hey Cow!

I'm was taking a break from working (please hold your comments) and reading thru my RSS feeds when I stumbled across my postcard on PostSecret (from 9/2).

So, it's official.

I'm famous.

The secret's out.

All Bets Should Be for Money

All Bets Should Be for Money
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
ESPN ran an advertisement in the USA Today a few years ago that showed Stuart Scott riding a tricycle around a park fountain while dressed as a SCUBA diver. The caption read, "It Was at This Point That Stuart Realized All Bets Should Be for Money."

Mark, my physical therapist and Atlanta Falcons fan, and I bet on the MNF game last week. The loser had to wear gear of the winning team during a day of work. We all know the outcome of the game. Here's the proof.

Thanks for being such a good sport, Mark. And, thanks for getting my ankle to work again.