Girl Crush

This woman is orange. She wears the palest lipstick known to man and uses so much eyeliner her eyes basically disappear. And for all those reasons I should be a bit nonplussed. However, I have a massive girl crush on her.

(And I have watched all the Sewing Bees in a row - and yes it is GBBO but with dresses instead of cakes)

Tattoo

I just caught sight of my 15 year old tattoo. It's on my back and I pretty much never see it. It's held up remarkably well for a small town tattoo artist that put his finger in places they shouldn't have been (my bum). Yay. 

More Houses

I'm beginning to think that I have lost the gene for getting excited about houses in real life. Gone. Today I saw what should have been the perfect house (2 actual full size bedrooms and not a shit hole) but whilst I was excited at the photos I walked around (the very small) living area and came to the conclusion that whilst I like it a lot they could do one for the asking price. So tomorrow will be negotiating £20k off what they're wanting and me saying things like, 

"She moved in 3 years ago and has done nothing to the house and she wants £40k more. I know you said she was a police woman but are you sure she hasn't been smoking crack?"

To try and avoid a melt down I have been looking at glitter dinosaur fascinators on Etsy. I love Etsy. You can basically find every sort of shit on there. Who wouldn't want a purple triceratops wandering around on their head?

House Finding Blues

For the last 6 weeks I have devoted my life to Rightmove and scouring individual estate agent sites in the hope of finding a house that isn't ridiculously overpriced and that would fit a normal couple in as opposed to the Borrowers. 

I don't mind the internet bit so much, it's dealing with the wanky estate agents that gets me down. I have to be pleasant to them for a start which really is not my bag. Then I have to try and juggle a Saturday to ensure that we can see 4 unsuitable properties in a time frame that does not mean there's 2 hours to kill 'on the wrong side of town' so we end up in a caff with some hungover hoodrats commenting how they'd wear MonseiurB's trainers and my handbag. Yes. This did happen. Yes. I did think they were going to mug us. Luckily I had some scalding hot tea. Watch out! I have boiling brown water in a mug and I'm not afraid to use it!

But most of all it's the shit I get off the agents on the Monday when I have to field the 'feedback' calls. I mostly want to say, 

"You're a child who is paid to literally open a door. When I ask questions about planning/previous extensions/GENERAL SHIT YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WHEN YOU'RE TRYING TO SELL A FUCKING HOUSE you give me an answer followed by, "But don't quote me on that". AKA YOU DON'T KNOW THE ANSWER". "

Instead I have to find a polite way of saying, "This house is overpriced for the fact it's 1.5 bedrooms and doesn't have a bath." One who we shall call PhillipTheChild, because his name was Phillip and he was a child, had the audacity to tell me he knew how much I really wanted this house and could I put in a higher offer. The answer was no. I couldn't put in a higher offer. Another told me I was very quiet when looking around the house. I bit my tongue instead of saying, "I'm quiet because it's a total shit hole and I could be in the pub now lamenting the lack of a house instead of standing here. Talking to you."

So the sooner a house is found the better.

But most of all the best time for me to deal with estate agents is when I'm on my period because then I am curt and don't take any bullshit. Curiously, they're nicer to me than when I'm attempting to pretend I'm not a horrible bitch. Hmm. Lesson learned perhaps. 

I'm selling some stuff....