Tuesday, September 30, 2008

People For the Ethical Treatment of Furniture (PETF)

You know my office? The one I will not shut the hell up about? Yes, that is the one. Well, it is STILL not done (big surprise right?). Progress is sloooow . I realize that some of you designer types (who I stalk love and admire ) would probably advise me to let someone with better taste handle this assignment. I see your point. Please humor me.

This is the vibe I am after. I realize that if anyone had doubts about whether or not I am a dork, my use of the word "vibe" just confirmed it.

I am smitten with the use of neutrals infused with pops of color. This is obviously not an office, but I think you get the idea. This leads me to my question. Yes, finally, there is a question.

I am getting to the question. Really, I am. I think it is important to note that the quivering toy poodle cowering under this charming chest acquired by yours truly at my used to be favorite haunt the Haltom City Rescue Mission Resale Store (may they rest in peace) is a cunning devil. Do not fall for the abused puppy act. It is impossible to take a picture at the new digs without Viv inserting herself and striking her best feel sorry for me pose. She is after cheese. Please do your best to ignore her ploy and focus on the matter at hand, which is this charming chest and the drafting table below. Would it be horrible to paint these items to achieve my dream?

I cannot decide. They certainly are not stunning examples of superior craftsmanship. Anyone who knows me knows that they were acquired for a song. However, I feel the tiniest bit guilty whipping out the Rustoleum on them when they have survived this long unaltered. There is also the possibility that I will paint them and then hate them. It is a conundrum.

The alternative is to change the design plan (as if there was one) and incorporate the two lovelies as is. So, please tell me what you think.

To paint or not to paint? That is the question.


* The drafting table pictured above is not the exact table I own, mine looks the same, but larger I swiped used the image to spare you another horrible cell phone picture. I try to be diligent about crediting images, but unfortunately these were intended for personal inspiration. I do not have all of the links. Another example of why I suck at these decor posts.

** I DO intend to dust the charming chest before I paint it. (In case you were wondering). How embarrassing is that??

images: http://desiretoinspire.blogspot.com/ www.ebay.com

Monday, September 29, 2008

Boys Are Dumb

I love boys. Really, I do. Sometimes the boys here at Fussy & Bitchy Inc. (my place of employment) make me want to pinch their heads off. All day I have been thinking of things I would rather be doing than than working (with dumb boys).

I have decided that today would be the perfect day to jump on the bed,

and wear designer red Dorothy shoes,

with my sweat pants.

or maybe just relax in the tub.

Cheetos take me away!


image: www.bedjump.com, www.elleuk.com,http://www.flickr.com/photos/drkoontz/23304002/

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Seven Virgins And a Mule

Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends. We're so glad you could attend. Come inside! Come inside!

There behind a glass is a real blade of grass. be careful as you pass. Move along! Move along!

Come inside, the show's about to start. guaranteed to blow your head apart.

Rest assured you'll get your money's worth.

The greatest show in Heaven, Hell or Earth. You've got to see the show, it's a dynamo. You've got to see the show, it's rock and roll ....

Right before your eyes we pull laughter from the skies. And he laughs until he cries. then he dies then he dies.

Come inside the shows about to start. Guaranteed to blow your head apart.
You gotta see the show. It's a dynamo. You gotta see the show. It's rock and roll.

I bet you knew I would not be able to keep my mouth shut all weekend, didn’t you? I tried. I really tried. If I had a Zen place, I would go there. There are only twelve episodes of Californication in existence. Unfortunately, (For both of us) they didn’t last all weekend. Sugar Daddy (The boyfriend formerly known as doo-doo head) took off for parts unknown (smart guy). Apparently, I am not pleasant company— imagine that! Please allow me to take this opportunity to apologize for my surly disposition of late. If I knew how, I would bake you cookies.
It is my greatest wish that we will all look back on this one day and laugh. “Silly me, I thought we were totally screwed. Look, here we are, on easy street! Our government knew what they were doing the whole time!” It could happen, right? I mean, I thought the world was ending when I was fifteen, and I had to call The Peach (My Dad) to pick me up from jail. It only took ten years, (or so) for that to be funny.

Dear Congress,
This is not the time for political posturing or partisan politics. Some of the most brilliant minds in the world are here in America. Use them PLEASE! Call on members of the private sector to help solve this problem.
P.S. Don't Fuck this up.
The news of WaMu’s failure was barely a headline. Wachovia will likely be next. China has suspended credit to the United States. Our credit markets are essentially frozen. It is not out of the question that companies will not be able to make payroll. It is possible that there will be no cash in your local ATM machine. This is THAT serious. No one wants to hand over a blank check. The idea that we should let the banks fail is naive and dangerous. We must restore confidence in our markets along with implementing strong measures to stimulate growth in the private sector NOW. Keep your eye on TED , as TED goes, so goes our future.
There I said it. I feel better. I am off to find a trashy novel…
Soon the Gypsy Queen in a glaze of Vaseline. Will perform on guillotine. What a scene! What a scene!

Next upon the stand will you please extend a hand to Alexander's Ragtime Band . dixieland. dixieland.

See the show.

Performing on a stool we've a sight to make you drool.

Seven virgins and a mule.
Keep it cool. Keep it cool.

We would like it to be known the exhibits that were shown, were exclusively our own, All our own. All our own.

Come and see the show! Come and see the show! Come and see the show!

image:http://cubilot.hautetfort.com/album/tsaouer/bombing_for_peace.3.jpg http://www.flickr.com/photos/newscorpse/2516167819/
http://www.news.com.au/common/imagedata/0,,6248686,00.jpg http://www.flickr.com/photos/mister_flash/2598741535/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mister_flash/2632873246/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/8622063@N04/2761411169/

Friday, September 26, 2008

The Beat Goes On

I am pleased to report
it is Friday
the beat goes on.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Mr. Goodwrench

Just when I thought I had to join the gym--Look what I found! Words cannot express my joy. I am planning to purchase the extended warranty. I wonder if drive-thru service is available?



Wednesday, September 24, 2008

If There Is Ever an Old Dead Married Guy in Your Bed…

Dear Warren Buffett,

Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you there’s no one else above you? You fill my heart with gladness, take away all my sadness, ease my troubles that’s what you-- doooowoo. You make me sing Warren, seriously. Your multi-billion dollar vote of confidence for free enterprise warms the cockles of my heart. I do not care what your motives are. I hope you make another bazillion dollars. I will tell you what I tell BFSK S.(best friend since kindergarten)…

“If for some reason you find yourself with an old, dead, married guy in your bed? If you are not sure what to do with him? I want you to know that you can call me”.

I would help you put pants on a dead guy.

The guy part does not really apply to you, but you know what I am trying to say. Right?
I love you Warren Buffett. I love Nebraska.


Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Would You Like Fries With That?

Just when you think there is not one single thing to smile about; when you are convinced the world will end by Friday; when you have stared at the flashing cursor on your computer screen for three days without being able to think of one single thing to write about that does not pertain to our impending doom, that is the moment that your a.d.d, o.c.d, germ-a-phobic, metrosexual, damn near perfect, never get his hands dirty boss, trips over the handle to your stunning new fall handbag. (The handbag that you purchased in spite of the fact that very soon you will have no use for a stunning new handbag, because the world is ending on Friday).

For the first time in days, you laugh! You laugh because Mr. Fussy Pants trips while carrying a pint-sized container of Bar B -Que sauce. When the sauce flies six feet in the air, then rains down, covering the walls and the carpet of your office, not to mention your stunning new handbag, you laugh, because when your boss is covered in sauce? That is nothing short of hilarious. It is pee in your pants funny.

When your sauce covered boss (who looks like an extra in a scene from the Texas Chain Saw Massacre) threatens to fire you, or kill you, if you do not shut up immediately this just adds fuel to the fire. You cannot stop. You continue to laugh until tears roll down your cheeks. When the only sound you can make is an intermittent snort because you cannot breathe--this my friends is greatness! It makes life worth living. It gives you something to blog about. It is a reminder that it is only Tuesday. We still have three whole days until the world ends.



Sunday, September 21, 2008

Arrr, What Am Me Goin' t' do Now?

I cannot believe it. I forgot that International Talk Like a Pirate Day was Friday! Forgettin' the birthday of me dear ol mum, bless her black soul, be one thin', But this? Arrr, what am me goin' t' do now ye, proud beauties, comely wench’s, and scurvy dogs? I be declarin' this talk like a pirate weekend. Arrr... I am hankerin to swill a pint or two of grog…

OK, whatever…Screw pirates. Would this be a better post if Johnny Depp were naked? I think it might.

Enjoy what is left of your weekend mateys.


Friday, September 19, 2008

Good Morning Destroyer of Men's Souls

"Carrie Nation was yet another colorful character from the west. She gained a reputation in her later years as a hatchet carrying crusader. As a firm believer that alcohol and gambling were not only sinful, but destructive to our society, she took it on herself to do something about those things. ..."

"Good Morning Destroyers of Men's Souls!" This was a favorite greeting of Carrie Nation to saloon owners in Kansas. When her polite actions did not persuade the heathens of Kansas to mend their ways, she used her hatchet to destroy saloons and scare the holy bejeezus out of the proprietors and patrons of the offending establishments. This is just one of the reasons I love her.

Carrie Nation is my idol. She is from Kansas (sort of). I am from Kansas. The similarities do not stop there. We look a little bit alike don't you think? Maybe we are related. It is possible. It is said that Carrie Nation's Mother had delusions of being Queen Victoria, further evidence of a possible genetic link. There is also the hatchet. I LOVE the hatchet.

I have decided to pick up where Carrie Nation left off. Instead of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, (I am not a hypocrite, after all) I am forming a new organization, The Women's Bitchtian ill-Temperament Union. I am on a mission to wipe out stupidity. I will be a militant crusader, wielding an ax and a copy of the Annus Mirabilis Papers. I have come to carry out hatchetations in the name of Albert Einstein, for the good of America and all her citizens. Well, if nothing else, just to make myself feel better.

Who is first on my list? The cashier in the express lane at the Winn-Dixie. If you are the cashier at the Winn-Dixie. In the express lane. And you see a grimacing woman in line, clutching an economy size bottle of Pamprin, a forty count box of super absorbent tampons and three (count them three!) pints of ice cream, it is stupid of you to pick this particular juncture to discuss Monday Night Football and the stellar performance of your beloved Dallas Cowboys. Stupid, I tell you! This behavior will get your cable box hatchinated. You deserve it.

If you are a Vice Presidential candidate who believes that the ability to see Russia from your moose stand in Alaska somehow qualifies as experience in foreign affairs. You are stupid. Your NRA membership card is getting the ax.

You, yes you, Mr. I am too cheap to rent a U-Haul. When transporting your belongings to your new doublewide. It is not smart to lay on top of the king size mattress set in the back of your pick-up truck. Your efforts to secure the Sealy Posturepedic while your wife floors it down the interstate at 70 miles per hour are stupid. I am positive after seeing the look on her face that she was saying silent prayers that your dumb ass would fly out of the truck. I think the only thing that would have made her sad is the thought of buying a new mattress. I would hatchinate you, but I am pretty sure you are already dead.

To the church lady who came to my office today, I understand that you were hopeful that Fussy and Bitchy Inc. would generously donate their interest in a parcel of land adjacent to your church which would have allowed the snake kissing members of your congregation to hold tent revivals every weekend. Hope, as they say springs eternal. Sorry,we are not generous. You are stupid. The snakes will feel the wrath. Chop...Chop...

To the bank teller at the most inconvenient bank in the world, I only use your services because I am too lazy to transfer my accounts. I am warning you. Do not ever ask me again how I am doing. EVER! You can clearly see the shrinking balances of those accounts. How in the hell do you think I am doing? You are stupid. No, I will not have a nice day! P.S. You will not either when your intercom system is faced with the business end of the hatchinator.

To the idiot who left your venti, triple shot, no whip, skinny, vanilla latte, on the roof of your car then nearly wrecked due to temporary blindness and heart failure induced by the mistaken impression that a pterodactyl sized bird must have shat on the windshield when you drove away...Oh, wait, that was me.

Never mind


image:http://kansasdar.org/randolphloving/Carrie.html, http://www.eskie.net/superior/west/nation.htm

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

I Die

Rachel, Rache, Rae-Rae?

Can I just say,
If I had your house,
And you had a feather up your ass ...
We would both be tickled.

Because honestly Rachel? I could kill it...I could shut it down!
After seeing last night's episode of The Rachel Zoe Project, I think maybe... You need a stylist.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Reality Just Hit The Fan

or did it?

I really did not want to talk about this today, or ever, really. I actually had a charming post about BFSK S. (Best friend since kindergarten) and the toad that broke into her house this weekend.

The following is nothing more than a question from some chick in Texas. I am not an expert, just an average Jane.

In the last few weeks I have learned more about Sarah Palin and the uterus' (uterui?) in her family than I ever cared to know. I know where she bought her glasses. I know that some men think she is hot. I know she can shoot a gun and she enjoys a good moose burger. There are other cloudy details about war with Russia. Iraq and WMDs, the bridge to nowhere, overturning Roe V Wade, and gun control that frankly I find revolting.

I know that Barack Obama wants Change. I know he is black, and for some reason that is supposed to be a big deal. I know his wife is well educated and his children are adorable. Did I mention he wants change? Well, he does. I am just not sure what it is exactly he intends to change.

I can look at John McCain’s voting record and see what I would get if I voted for him. It looks like more of the same.

Joe Bidden? What can I say about Joe Bidden? I am amazed that Barack Obama has managed to put a muzzle on him. I wonder how long the peace and quiet will last.

I will admit that I have not done great job learning about the candidates. I know too much about their personalities, not enough about their resumes (or lack there of).

I feel like Chicken Little. Is the sky really falling? I am not sure. I know that the stock market is falling. I know financial institutions are falling. I believe the odds of our country resolving the economic issues we are facing without drastic consequences are falling.

Here is a question for you. Let us say you own a home in the lovely hamlet of Anytown USA. Your modest domicile is worth 100 thousand dollars. What if you were able to leverage your 100 thousand dollar investment into 3 million dollars of cash? Would you do it? Would you borrow 30 times what your house is worth? If you did, you could use the borrowed money to make more investments. You could buy more houses. Then you could borrow 30 times what they are worth. On and on and on...

Here is the catch. You have to pay the money back. With interest. Tuesday. Unfortunately, by Tuesday your house will only be worth 85 thousand dollars. The houses you purchased with your borrowed money are de-valued as well. Still sound good? Is it unrealistic for you to expect to get a 30 to 1 return on your investment? Would you bet the farm on it?

Let us add another dimension just for fun. What if some of the money you were borrowing came from retail banks. Is it OK if the bank on the corner lends you some of Granny's retirement money for your new venture? Never mind that retail banks are supposed to put customer deposits in the safest investments possible. We trust you.

This is an oversimplified version of what I think big investment banks have done. Witness the failure of Lehman Bros. and the planned buyout of Merrill Lynch by Bank of America These companies have portfolios that are leveraged 30 or 40 to one. That means borrowing 30 to 40 thousand dollars for every one thousand dollars of assets.

The effort to de-leverage is putting investment banks out of business. Unlike Bear Stearns before them, the Government did not rush in with a bail out plan for Lehman Brothers. The Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson said no. Apparently, all weekend they asked for help. He refused. Letting Lehman Brothers fail could have had major repercussions to our economy. It may still. Equally devastating could be the impact if the government continues to take on private debt.
There are no simple answers.

What will happen when retail banks like WaMu and other already unstable lesser institutions are pushed over the edge by depositors demanding their money? Will FDIC be able to insure those deposits? What about AIG do they fall with Lehman and (potentially) WaMu?

If you are against the government bailouts of private companies like Bear Sterns and Freddie and Fannie, how do you feel about bailing out FDIC? Do you want the market to correct itself? At what price?

In my uneducated, uninformed, unfounded, opinion this could be the run up to a financial disaster of epic proportions. Uncle Sam is promising to spend money that he does not have. We are currently funding US Government spending with low interest treasuries. China, Russia, and countries in the Middle East are heavily invested in these treasuries. How long before these countries demand higher rates? What happens if they dump them entirely?

We are jeopardizing the nation’s balance sheet with private bailouts, but can we afford not to? Is the idea of financial collapse really out of the question? If banks are leveraged 30-40 to one, can it be avoided?

Maybe I have the whole thing wrong. I hope so.
I want someone running for President to explain this to me. What now? What next?

I am listening. I do not hear anyone talking.
When you watched the Republican and Democratic conventions did any of the nominees address these issues directly?
Have they since?
Are any of them qualified to fix this mess?
Are you willing to bet the farm?


Monday, September 15, 2008

Tobi and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

There was a post for today. I swear. It was a long, rambling, anger filled rant about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Then I thought that no one really wanted to read a long, rambling, anger filled rant. Since I made a promise not to subject you to anymore long, rambling, anger filled rants, now there is no post for today. I will continue to mutter under my breath to myself, because I like you guys. No thanks is necessary.

Talk amongst yourselves.



Sunday, September 14, 2008

Not Much To Like About Ike

The storm has passed. There are an estimated 140 thousand residents that did not evacuate coastal areas. Many are still trapped in the wreckage. At least 2.9 million homes are without electricity. At last report four were confirmed dead, 2 in Texas, 2 in Louisiana.

The DFW area was spared the expected remnants of the storm. No high wind. No torrential rain. No tornadoes. That is the only good news.


Friday, September 12, 2008

Emergency Preparedness

BFSK S. (best friend since kindergarten) called on my way home from work today.

S. - “How is the traffic?"

T- “In a word? Mind numbing"

S- “That is two words”

T- “Like I said”

S- “Do you have gas?”

T- “ UmmmNoooo….I feel fine, a little bit of a tension headache maybe" …

S- “Gas in the CAR! Dipshit, did you get gas?"

T- “No, the gas light just came on this morning. I don’t need gas yet."

S- “I filled up the tank in the car today, also the propane tank for the grill. Wal-Mart was a madhouse, they did have battery-operated fans for ten bucks so I picked up a couple. They also have hurricane lamps. Have you seen the price of batteries? It is ridiculous; I almost had to body slam biatch at the water store. The freezer is full of ice. I pulled out the radios and candles…"

T. “Are you going camping or something?"

S- "Are you going stupid or something?"

T- (Sniff).


T- "Oh, I am stupid? WE DO NOT LIVE AT THE BEACH!"

S- "Just, go to the grocery store. We could be without water and power for days."

T- “No way sister I’m coming to your house."


T- "I’ll bring the wine??"

Ike is on shore in Galveston. As of 10:30 PM the eye was passing over the barrier Island. The Storm surge was reported at 20 feet with sustained winds of 110 mph. (111 mph. is category 3). Water is over the sea wall and flooding has started. No word yet on the oil refineries in the gulf. Gas prices are up 40 cents a gallon and expected to be at $4 by tomorrow. After that, if you can get gas, who knows what it will cost. There are over 20 thousand people still on the island.

Houston is next. It looks like it is going to be a bumpy ride y'all.

Be safe.


Dear Jesus

Dear Jesus,

I know it is not Sunday, (Please do not send swarming locusts or bolts of lightning to kill me for implying that I go to church on Sunday) . I have recently received some information that I feel needs clarification. I saw this sign in your yard this morning. Are you serious about this? I really need to know. (I think we both understand why). I would appreciate it if you could review the attachments below and advise me accordingly. (At your convenience of course).

This is a revelation (I am throwing in a subtle New Testament reference for good measure).

Is this true?

Good Lord!
I thought this is what I was going to hell for.

Then there is this. Please, tell me you didn't have anything to do with this.

Thank you for your time and attention. I look forward to hearing from you in the near future.

Dear Sinner,
In response to your inquiry dated 09/12/2008. I am in receipt of your request. Please be aware that I am currently engaged in matters of higher importance. While I appreciate your concern, I must ask that you use your own best judgement. I can assure you I am aware of the issues you have presented. My impression of the current situation is that none of you are very smart. You can tell them I said so.
Yours truly,


Thursday, September 11, 2008

September Eleventh

killed in 9/11 attacks 2,819
American military casualties in Iraq 4,155
coalition troops 314
contractor deaths 444
Iraqi deaths 1,255,026


Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Hey Judes

I am a good daughter. Shut up! I am.

I called Big Judes (My mom) yesterday. Judes is retired now. It is rumored that she spends her time caravanting (Read: gallivanting + caravanning) around Kansas and surrounding states. There have been unconfirmed reports that she has been spotted table dancing, rebel rousing and raising a ruckus all over Topeka. She is never home.

To the best of my knowledge, Big Judes has never been required to post bail. I think it is safe to say if she had been arrested for public intoxication, or some other misdemeanor offense (Judes is not a felon), it would be my rat-faced brother she would call, not me. He is her favorite after all. In addition, Rat Boy would be more likely to show up in a timely manner to pick her up. I do not blame her (much) for liking him better.

When I called yesterday, I was surprised to hear her voice.
Apparently, the feeling was mutual.

(Insert ringing phone)

Big Judes “Hello?” (She did not sound drunk. This is good).

KIDDING! Judes is a tea totaler.

Tobi “Hey, What are you doing?”

Big Judes

Tobi “Mother?”

Big Judes

Tobi “MOTHER? (Good lord, has she gone deaf in the last month?) It is ME. TOBI! Your DAUGHTER??”

Big Judes “Tobi? Oh, hi…I didn't recognize your voice. Why the hell are you shouting?”

(Tobi silently counts to five, because she IS a good daughter. Notes the unenthusiastic response, and quickly scans her internal calendar in an effort to remember the Birthday, Anniversary or National Holiday, she has failed to acknowledge…Nothing. Suddenly realizing the problem, Tobi responds accordingly).

Tobi “Don’t worry. I am not calling to borrow money. “

Big Judes “Well good, I would tell you to piss up a rope if you were. Maybe you should call your sainted Auntie Mame if you need money. I am sure, I, am not glamorous enough to assist you. Where do you come up with that stuff on that glog of yours? Why do you use the F word? Are you trying to embarrass your family? Maybe you should just poison all of us weirdoes with glittered lemon drops,”

Tobi (Shit, she does read my blog) “Mother, I have never borrowed money from you. How many times must I tell you glitter is non-toxic? I was only trying to make her barf! I called to see how you are doing. That is all. I called because I am a good daughter.”

Big Judes (snort) “Well, if you did swindle money from me, I am sure you never paid me back. I am on my way to my exer-chair class. It is less than a month until my Dollywood trip. I refuse to be fat in Dollywood.”

Tobi “ Mother you are not fat. What is an exer-chair class? Is it like yoga or something?”

Big Judes "Good God no! Last time I did yoga, my knees swelled to the size of watermelons. How could I go to Dolllywood with watermelon knees? I bet you would think that was funny, wouldn’t you? You could write about it, on that glog of yours Miss Smartypants. You don't know about Exer-chair? I thought you knew everything. You are a regular Glen Beck, according to that glog of yours.

Tobi "Mother, Glen Beck is an ass. I thought that exer-chair is for people who are in wheelchairs or too old to exercise, you are only sixty something.

Big Judes " Well, I may be only sixty-ish, but I don't jump, and don't you say anything bad about Glen Beck. Glen is a good guy. His mother must be so proud of him. For your information not everyone at exer-chair is in a wheelchair, but some of those girls do look pretty O. L. D. if you know what I'm saying. I am the cutest one in the class. .. Oh great, now I suppose you are going to talk about that on that glog of yours too? Tell the world I think I'm cute? I hope you are not expecting a post card from Dollywood. You know I tried to comment on that glog of yours. I was going to set the record straight. When I moused that comment thing, it said I needed a friend. What does it know? I need a friend? Since when do I need a friend? Tobi Renae, I am telling you right now, I better not read about this on that glog of yours, and stop using the F word you are embarrassing your family...

Judes, I swear. I will never, ever, mention this on that glog of mine.
As for my blog, well, that is another story.

Please say a prayer to Glen Beck that she does not figure out how to mouse a comment!?!



Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Just The Facts or Coughing Up A Fur Ball--You Decide

We interrupt today’s regularly scheduled programming for a rant about the mortgage crisis. I am sure no one wants to hear about it. If I do not release some of the pressure behind my eyes, my head is going to explode.

Less than one week ago I promised to stay off the soapbox. Here I am again. Please forgive me; I am planning a Google search for anger management classes at the conclusion of this post.

I am no expert. I probably should not be offering opinions. You are welcome to leave now, or stick around to tell me what a twit- bird I am.

In response to all of the ridiculosity I have experienced lately I have this to say -

If you are the unfortunate recipient of a so-called adjustable rate, exotic, liar, zero interest, NINA, NIVA, NINJA, Step, 100%, Rub a dub dub three men in a tub loan. You are screwed. There is no act of Congress, or God that will help you. The truth is you are a Dumb Ass. Anyone who chooses an adjustable product when mortgage interest rates are at record lows and real estate prices are at record highs is an idiot. This includes you.

Please admit your greed. Tell the truth. You mismanaged your credit. You cheated on your taxes. You were unable to save even a modest down payment on the American dream. You were arrogant to believe that you did not need any type of homebuyer education. You knew what you were doing remember? Now deal with it.

If you are one of the jack asses that pulled imaginary equity out of your house (multiple times in some cases) to finance vacations, swimming pools, pay off credit card debt or buy a new set of double D boobs, sorry about your luck. You are the one who gave up your 30 year fixed loan in favor of an adjustable mortgage, because the introductory rate was only 5.5%. If you cannot make the payment on a house you have owned for ten years and you cannot sell the home because values in your area are 40% lower than the inflated appraisal you received from your buddies at Countrywide, tough shit. Let the house go back. Live in your BMW. The one you leased with cash from your last re-fi.

To the US Treasury Department, for taking over Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae. Thanks, your check is in the mail. 200 Billion? No, problem. I believe you when you say that it will probably be much less. That is what you said before the take over right? That there was not going to be a take over. Right? Tell all of those bond and Preferred stock holders not to worry about a thing. America has got their asses covered.

I love the time out analogy. Yes, let's put Fanny and Freddie in time out, so the new administration can deal with them later. In fact, let’s wash their mouths out with soap while we are at it to prove we are good parents. Even though we have left the little darlings unattended while they fabricated their balance sheets. Much like the bad children of Enron before them.

To all of the fine men and women of the US Congress.. I seem to remember that you were the ones encouraging Freddie and Fannie to loosen their credit standards so that “Every American could enjoy the privilege of homeownership.”

Guess what? Not every American should own a home. It is a privilege. Homeownership should be reserved for the people who have shown a history of stable employment, residency, and credit management. Believe me when I tell you that is not “every American”.

At the peak of the housing bubble I seem to remember all of you singing the praises of Alan Greenspan, home builders, mortgage lenders, and gullible home buyers. Did this have anything to do with the Freddie and Fannie lobbyists on Capitol Hill? You remember them right? The ones that have spent 170 million dollars lobbying since 1998. The people who contributed 19.3 million dollars to republican and democratic campaigns since 1990. They were fined a record 3.8 million dollars for violating Election laws. Remember? You fat bastards ate the food, played the golf, cast the votes, and looked the other way while Freddie and Fannie (private companies) grew to the size of Violet Beauregarde at the chocolate factory, insuring over 60% of the mortgages originated in the United States and 95% of loans sold on the secondary market. Could money be the reason that so little has been said about the corruption within the organization? Who will pay for your campaigns now?

You encouraged foreign investment in Freddie and Fannie with your US Government guarantees and now are being forced to put up or shut up. China demands it, the health of the US economy requires it, the world markets are counting on it. The problem is you are putting up my money. All of our money.

This is the part where I will try to compose myself. The HCK…HCK…HCK… you are hearing is me trying to cough up this fur ball. Here is my bottom line. The point of this hateful rant.

Please remember that Fannie and Freddie ARE NOT and NEVER HAVE BEEN sub-prime lenders. Sub-prime mortgages were the paper that Freddie and Fannie would not buy. They were the finance companies like New Century and Option 1 who were encouraged to run amuck without regulation by our lawmakers. The end result was the implosion of the industry and the failure of over 250 banks and financial institutions in the last three years. We are not at the bottom. This is not just about mortgages. The mortgage debacle is a symptom of economy’s problems. If you are not familiar with the Housing Reform Act that was signed by President Bush July 30th. please read it. This is your government's answer to the problem.

Go vote. When you do, remember that the people you elect at the state and local levels are as important as the people you send to the White House. Keep in mind that Freddie and Fannie have made contributions to both Barack Obama and John McCain this year. The Mayor you elect today could be our Vice President four years from now.

Facts or Fur-balls?
You decide.

(insert crickets)


Monday, September 8, 2008

If a Tree Falls in the Forest

...and no one is there to hear it, does it make a noise?

Here I go, getting all philosophical on your ass (I had to spell check philosophical, so how philosophical could I be, really?). Fear not. This post is not a provocative, ethereal, metaphysical debate of the tired old tree question.

It is more about this.

And this.

And what the two have to do with each other.

Which is nothing.

This is where the deep philosophical, metaphysical, who gives a shizacal ,what the helleverisical part comes in :

If a blog that was inspired by d├ęcor has become more about things like, oh, say, Japanese guys in sperm suits, then what is that blog about?

I think my blog and I are having an identity crisis.

Who are we, my blog and I? We are not Mommy bloggers, or Tech Gurus. We do not know much about politics or cuisine. We certainly could not give advice about relationships. We can never remember the names of celebrities, and fashion at the New Digs is more about the don’ts than the do's.

We are about nothing. Like Seinfeld, only not as funny, and without as many friends. Therefore, not like Seindfeld at all, really.

Instead of Tobi et al, perhaps we should be Tobi ithoutway ausecay

Sunday, September 7, 2008

I Am Veal

This morning my phone rang at 3:00 AM. The Fort Worth police department called to inform me that a perp (that is cop lingo) had attempted to break into Fussy and Bitchy Inc. (My place of employment). I am first on the alarm company’s contact list.

It makes total sense that if armed robbers, hell bent on raping, robbing, and pillaging, break into your place of business at three in the morning you should send the 120 (or so) pound, aging, far-sighted employee who lives the farthest from the scene of the crime to risk her life surveying the damage while you and your penis sleep peacefully across town breathing through your mouth and involuntarily flexing your bi-ceps dreaming of raping, robbing, and pillaging of the white collar kind.

It is important to note that in a recent office poll I was voted first on the menu if the employees of Fussy & Bitchy Inc. were ever snow bound ala, the Donner party, in the mountains. I made my case for eating Mr. Fussy Pants (My ADD, OCD boss) first because imagine the relief we would all feel when the incessant whining stopped.

When Fussy was disqualified for being too gristly, I offered up a limb as a last resort. I mean really, how hungry are these bastards going to be? They all have laptops and I-phones can’t they twitter for help or something? How long could it take to be rescued? Are they going to eat me because they missed lunch?

I thought it was generous of me to volunteer an extremity as bait to attract a marauding bear so that my comrades could stone it to death with frozen mortgage calculators. Problem solved. They did not buy it. In the end I was out voted. It seems that despite being long in the tooth. I am a better candidate for epicurean delights of the human variety, because all of my life I have lived in a confined area, never exercising, and receiving frequent massages.
I am veal.

If your coworkers are willing to eat you, they are more than happy to send your skinny ass to a crime scene at 3:00 AM.

Anyway, when the phone rang this morning I was in the middle of a dream where in Brittany Spears entrusted me with one of her adorable children. Said child was ensconced in the backseat of Hilda the miracle of German engineering that is my car on the way to the New Digs for safekeeping. I looked in the rear view mirror to reassure myself that I, unlike Brit-Brit had secured said toddler in a safety tested child seat. It was then I realized that the aforementioned pop star's baby was the size of Polly Pocket. It was during the ensuing panic that the phone rang. My sedated brain assumed it was the tiny tot’s mother calling for a progress report….

Tobi: “Hello, Brit?" Everything is fine, just fine… (Obviously, if you mistakenly shrink someone’s kid you lie).

Officer C: “Hello Ma’am? Ma'am are you there? This is the Fort Worth Police department. We have a break- in reported at Fussy and Bitchy Inc. Officers are en route. Can I call you back at this number if you are needed at the scene?”

Tobi: (Still groggy but riding a wave of relief from realizing that she will not be spending the rest of her days in a federal prison for being a child shrinker, also noticing that the uniformed voice on the other end of the phone sounded beautiful, like that of a nightingale.) responds with a tryptophan infused- Oh, YES-- Yes! Please do. I cannot wait. Call me back. Do you need me to come now? Maybe I could help apprehend the bad guys. You could use my arm for bait. I would give you a foot but I really like shoes. What did you say your name was? Officer?

Officer C: “Ma’am this is Officer Campbell from the Fort Worth Police Department. Are you all right? Do you understand what I am saying? Can I call you back at this number?”

Tobi: “Yes, Officer Campbell I am fine (wink- wink) I understand. I will be waiting for your call. Oh, Officer Campbell? By the way, are you married ? Kids? Gay? What is the story Officer Campbell? Because really? It is 3:00 AM and if you are married, gay, or otherwise unavailable could you just tell me now and I will come as I am with bed head and smeared mascara and wrinkled jammie pants. However, If you are single and searching I will happily apply lipstick and brush my teeth because really? I am much cuter with lipstick.
I am like veal. ..”

Officer C:

Tobi: “Crap, I need coffee.”

I hung up the phone and sent Fussy a text message. “We have been attacked. Do not worry. Officer Campbell and I are on the case” I briefly considered putting on a cocktail dress and strappy sandals to give Officer Campbell the impression that my incoherent ramblings were the result of partying the night away with my hip and trendy friends. I decided against it. There is no way I could pass a field sobriety test at 3:00 AM in strappy sandals even with no cocktails. I did apply lipstick (Just in case). Then I waited…and waited.

I imagined myself as Mrs. Officer Campbell. This is how fate works, correct? When you least expect it a policeman with the voice of a nightingale calls and you fall in love and live happily ever after. Right?

Officer Campbell never called. I had to call him (which is totally against the advice of my mom Big Judes). When I reached him, he apologized for the oversight. Apparently, no evidence of a break-in was found. This sounded a lot like the standard brush off “It’s not you, really. It’s me.”

This leads me to ask, How desperate is the situation when men who are duty bound (and paid) to serve and protect take your number and never call?