Tag: idiots

Those “real estate investor” signs…

Amanda Levy of Metroblogging Sacramento asked on Saturday what we have probably all wondered for a few months now…

I was just exiting the 80 by P Street in downtown Sac…I saw a sign for Real Estate Investor…make 10K to 20K per month…has anyone EVER made money by calling the numbers on one of those signs and signing up???? Seriously!!!

You’ve seen these hand-written signs, correct? I always assumed the reason he/she needed an apprentice was because he/she was clearly so busy making billions and billions of dollars in Real Estate to find a way to get those signs printed all professional-like!

Near where it intersects with Frito’s Lane

Via KCRA, the pot house crackdown is still turning out results:

Police in Elk Grove raided several homes overnight and discovered more indoor marijuana-growing operations.

The homes are on Snowy Egret Way, Oreo Ranch Way and Haflinger Way

Oreo Ranch Way? No wonder they were growing pot. “Dude, I heard this street was like named after this real place, this real ranch where they grow giant Oreos.” My wife gets the credit for that one.

“I’m surprised you would ask such a personal question!”

Maybe it’s my sensitivity of being a newlywed who’s selling her house, but what’s up with everyone wanting to know personal financial information like how much you paid for your house and how long ago you bought it?

I realize such questions became part of the daily chatter before the real estate bubble burst, but when you think about it, how obnoxious is it for someone to boast over how much equity they have? How gauche is it for someone to ASK how much you’re making on your home sale? Why don’t we all carry around laminated copies of the previous year’s tax returns while we’re at it? Would you like to see my medical records too?

This came to light a couple weeks ago when Mr. NonRunnerButHeSwimsALot and I went to Fro’s to celebrate having faxed my signed counter-offer to my prospective buyer’s agent.
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Hecka Culture and the Devil

Actual conversation overheard by me at McKinley Park after work:

Girl One: I want to go somewhere different this year though.
Girl Two: Yeah. Not like somewhere hecka touristy either.
Girl One: I know. I want to go somewhere with like hecka museums and hecka restaurants and, just like…
Girl Two: Hecka culture.
Girl One: Yeah. But definitely not like hecka tourists though.
Girl Two: Maybe like Greece or something.

The next day at the farmer’s market I saw a dude wearing a T-shirt that said, “THE DEVIL IS A PIMP. DON’T BE HIS HO.” Now, I ask you: is there not hecka culture right here in Sacramento? And not even hecka tourists either?

Where’s my sushi, Nick?

OK, remember what I said the other day about treating everyone nicely (yes, Kit, including hipsters)?

The one exception is Nick from Ameriprise Financial. “Who’s Nick from Ameriprise?” you may ask yourself.

Answer: He’s the guy who called me to tell me that he’d plucked my business card out of the fishbowl at Kamon Sushi, entitling me and nine of my friends to a complimentary sushi lunch.

I immediately called my hubby, and we brainstormed on our favorite sushi eaters who would be on the invitation list (yes, you were all on the list), and we compared Outlook calendars to coordinate good days for our complimentary lunch.
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Public Transit Tip

To the guy ranting and raving on outbound bus 34 at 6:45 last night, just an FYI: to use public transit you have to go to a designated transit stop and wait for it to come to you more or less on schedule. That’s how it works. Apparantly this dude felt differently, because he chased the bus to a stop only after attempting to flag it down at a random point. When he finally got on he proceeded to scream at the driver for about 5 stops about how he couldn’t believe she didn’t stop the bus mid-road at his beck and call. It’s not a cab, dude. It’s the bus. He then progressed to screaming generally, “I CAN’T BE IN THE SUN! I CAN’T BE IN THE SUN!” Understood. The heat is making me crazy too. May I suggest a hat or some SPF. Or perhaps private transport. Lastly, he resorted to screaming over and over, “You are a jerk!” Kudos for refraining from outright vulgarity. Nevertheless, sir, have you considered that perhaps it is you who is the jerk? P.S. to the couple making out in the seat next to me, RIGHT AWN! That was better than free cable.

Tall tales at the Big O

By now you’ve heard of the Police pursuit that ended in a scary crash at 59th and Folsom, right in front of Corti Brothers, on Saturday. Well, we hadn’t yet when we found ouselves at Big O (just across the street) just after lunchtime, just a few hours after the incident had taken place. (Link below, but wait for it, trust me.) The manager reported to me that the suspect had tried to run, and had been taken down and taken from the scene in an ambulance. Later, I overheard the same manager saying that it had taken several officers to subdue and handcuff the suspect, that he had been “a pretty big dude.” Police tape cordoned off the entire intersection of 59th and Folsom–clearly, some bigtime shit had gone down.

Not being satisfied with one source, I chatted up one of the shop guys while he rolled my repaired tire out to my car. According to this young man, the suspect had flashed a gun, and when cornered, had fired into his own car, killing his passengers, before being gunned down by officers and “taken away in a body bag.” How did he know this? His boss had gone down there, don’t you know, and asked around.
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I knew it!

Scene: Hoppy’s in East Sac. Two guys, watching the ballgame, discussing the tip.

“I just do what my mom always said, and double the sale tax,” says Guy No. 1. Guy No. 2 nods, and Guy No. 1 adds, “Then, I adjust the amount upward according on the rackage on the waitress.”

At the table next, dining on burgers and kettle chips, I shoot my brother a dirty look. He has a knowing smirk on his face.

“What did I do?” he protests.

It’s hard out there for a pimp my ride

89 Honda Prelude

Dig the Wheel of Fortune “before and after” title? Bonus points if you immediately thought of that when you read it. And by “bonus points” I mean you admit to being a nerd like me who would even think of making such a reference.

Not much to this one, folks. A simple reminder why you all work so hard everyday, braving the traffic, the smog, the high gas prices, only to go home and do it again tomorrow. So that you never wind up being this guy.

Coming Soon on ESPN2

Competitive cup stacking, cheerleading, and double-dutch jumproping will soon take a back seat to the next craze that’s sweeping the Midtown area: XTreme Blood Donations!

I give blood about every eight weeks, and I was overdue for this most recent appointment — with the wedding a couple weeks ago, I knew that if I gave blood that week, that would be the one time that they nicked something and my whole arm would be purple (for those who don’t give blood, that’s a rare occurence, so don’t let that scare you.)

Sitting in the snack area post-donation and noshing on my 2nd plate of nachos, my attention was diverted from the May ’97 issue of Better Homes & Gardens when an older gentleman asked me how often I donate.
Continue reading “Coming Soon on ESPN2”