This whole Buying A House thing is a fuckload of work and stress and ulcers and migraines and diarrhea. As of 2:38 pm yesterday, everything was lined up for a smooth closing on September 30th and I was happily stealing furniture from alleys all over my neighborhood in preparation of furnishing an entire house with exactly fourteen dollars and thirty-one cents.
Then at 2:39 (O, CURSED HOUR!) I got a phone call that threw the entire works into a tizzy and a big fat jam which resulted in Afternoon Consumption of Red Wine and Lots of Ice Cream From the Carton, and the entire problem revolves around the lack of ONE SIGNATURE on ONE PIECE OF PAPER out of the billions and jillions of pieces of paper involved in the purchasing of a house and the borrowing of the money to do so.
This is when I'm really regretting my decision not to enter a life of crime. Forged documentation would really come in handy right now.
Fortunately, Gray became Prestige-d (apparently it's a verb in Loser Language) on his Modern Warfare game this weekend, so there's that bit of good news. If you know what it means to become Prestige-d, then you're a giant loser.
But also, I'm kind of serious when I said it's good news because Pristige-d Gray was playing that very game last night when another loser playing with him spoke into Gray's loser-y headset and gave him a brilliant idea with which to extricate ourselves from the EMERGENCY LACK OF SIGNATURE we are suffering, and the fact that Gray was playing his 24th consecutive hour of video games may ironically end up being the reason we are able to purchase this house after all.
Which means I owe Gray about a thousand blow jobs RE: the bet we made RE: the usefulness of his playing video games. ALL. THE. TIME. EVERY. DAY.
I fucking hate/love it when he's right.