Haxxored!
You victiom to Nordic Autorogue 3 Blog haxxor rev3 software. Team: Big Boys
Attack type 3: Blogger used own name (or varient) as password
No way!!! Dum password! See if you can guess teh new one HA!
Have a nice pirate day! HA!
This is the 32rd WordPress blog of compromize for the team Big Boys!!!! Type 3: 17
Code: 0xDEDEA890
I’m a cockroach. As low as I can be. A mugwump.
Bob’s mother keeps calling. I finally picked it up half an hour ago and sobbed that he had rolled his truck and died. Even that hasn’t stopped her calls. I should probably pick it up and tell her I was joking, but I just don’t know if I can.
I’m just lying around drinking, watching DVDs of LOST. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, though.
My blog is getting hits from all over the country. I can’t bring myself to read the comments. The whole world knows me for what I am. A slutty, pathetic alcoholic.
My aunt called from Portland. She wants me to come take care of her. I know it’s a pity call, but I may do it, regardless. Sell this damned house. Go take care of an old lady. Do something meaningful and worthy for a change. I’ve got to get out of here by Halloween. I can’t take all those horrible children asking for candy. All dressed up, with those masks. And laughing! I hope their teeth rot. I wonder if my aunt’s house smells like an old person.
I’m going to drink myself to death, just like Nicholas Cage did. Vodka. No more champagne–it’s gone.
I’ll drink at home. I won’t go out anymore. Or maybe I will. My humiliation is complete, so it doesn’t matter. This morning I woke up naked in a strange man’s bed, underneath a dirty, ungroomed dog. I had a throbbing headache, and I could hardly open my eyes. I knew my breath was bad, so I blew in the dog’s face, and he actually lapped the air! What a dreadful beast.
I looked over with a feeling of deep regret. The man was lying face-down. His back was hairy. I didn’t care to see him, so I pulled myself out of bed.
“Where you goin’?”, he asked, all groggy.
“Your dog smells like excrement.”
“Haha! That’s just deer poop.” He turned over. “He likes you!”
Oh my god. I was in LaPine. I knew it all of the sudden. I pulled up my skirt and buttoned my blouse.
“I was never here,” I said.
“Suit yourself, lady. You weren’t so good nohow. Nice hair, though. Maybe you’d be better sober.”
My right heel was broken, so I took it off and threw it at him. He just laughed. I walked to the door. The dog frisked and waggled. It had to pee. I pointed at the beast. “Pee on the floor!”
I walked out and kicked off my other shoe. Good lord, where was I? My car wasn’t there. It was still at the bar in Bend. I walked down the street, and it was practically just a dirt road. The lawns were as much pine needles as they were grass. I couldn’t tell if the houses were trailers or sad tries at real houses.
The town is like a little corner of hell. How could it exist like that? So close to Sun River? I could see the highway from the end of the dirt road. I don’t even remember the walk. I think it was long. I walked to a greasy spoon on 97.
“Tough night, lady?”
“Call me a cab.”
“A cab?”
“Yes. Call me a cab from Bend.”
“Oh lady, someone can drive you. People are going that way.”
“Call me a cab.”
The wait was interminable. And everyone was looking at me the whole time. But what’s the difference when your life is dead to you?
The cab came. I had to stop him after just a couple of miles to get out and throw up. When we got to my house I didn’t even have any money. He took a new set of mens’ golf clubs and some nice shirts.
I’m staying in and it’s vodka all day long and all night long. It’s all over. The sun is gone, too. Perfect. Just depressing drizzle. It’s all just perfect. A perfect ending.
They are both gone. If I ever see either one of them again I swear I’ll kill them. I didn’t go to Sisters on Friday. I had a terrible upset stomach. When I got into the house I heard the theme from The Flintstones playing loud in the bedroom. I went in and Jennifer was bouncing on top of Bob. She was wearing nothing but a black rabbit-fur bra and, get this, had a bone tied in her hair! Have you ever heard of such a thing? I don’t know whose idea it was but they are both sick, sick people. I better never see either one of them again. The man I will never forgive. The girl, I could have, if she had been underneath him.
And, of course, there’s no money. When it rains it pours. I don’t know if Bob took it somehow or spent it somehow or just never made what he said he made. I’m going to die. How did this all happen? I need another drink.
I need to get an early start today. I’m going to meet my Portland friends in Sisters!
This blog is so fun, but a lot of work! Everyone wants me to give a market overview, even though this is my personal blog, so I’ll have to do one of those tomorrow. The great thing about Realtors is we love to mix business with pleasure!
I never did find Bob until I got back home. That was irritating. He simply has to keep his phone with him! There was no one working at the site. He’s either going to have to be there or make sure he has someone in charge that won’t let the whole crew go home early.
On the drive home, I saw an “Open House” sign out in front of Broken Top. That’s such a problem. People are so hesitant to go to an “Open House” when there’s a “Closed Gate.” I never know what to do about that when I’m selling a house in a gated neighborhood. It’s like putting up a “Free Lemmings” sign that points over the edge of a cliff. Sure, they’re free, but how do you get them?
Then I saw a nasty looking “For Sale” sign just inside Northwest Crossing and drove in. It was a FSBO (for sale by owner) sign, with a little girl next to it selling lemonade. Amateur hour.
“Do you want some lemonade?”, she asked.
“Oh yes,” I said.
I looked at the sign. A huge red and yellow…thing. Circus music played in my mind. Dreadful. Only a clown could have made that sign. The girl had multicolored toenails. Naturally.
“Isn’t it a bit late in the season to be trying to sell lemonade?”, I asked her.
She laughed, “Oh no! It’s hot!” An optimist.
The house was small, on a small lot. Too close to the busy street. In this market, buyers will ask a lot of hard questions. Questions only a qualified Realtor should field. But the sign just went up. They’ll be stubborn for a while. Maybe I’ll sneak by in two weeks and leave a card on the porch.
I knew I didn’t have any cash, but of course I had to open my purse and hunt around. “Hold on, Honey,” I said, “I’m going to have to go get some cash. I’ll be right back.” I drove home.
Wouldn’t you know it, the dryer’s not working. I have a whole load of clothes sitting wet in it. Including, of course, what I wanted to wear! I told Bob he’d have to deal with it.
So I’m off to Sisters! I’m excited, but I have a bit of an upset stomach. I’m just going to start driving anyhow. If I end up feeling terrible, I’ll just turn around and go back to bed. I’d hate to cancel, though. I’ve been waiting all week for this.
If it’s not one thing it’s another. Never, ever answer the phone when you’re taking a bath! I got the strangest phone call from the bank. I hope it’s not some sort of identity theft problem. Bob’s the one who does the checking, so I have to track him down now. I guess I’ll try his office then the building site. Or maybe the other way around. Well, I’m sure the VISA card works anyway. It had better! Tomorrow I have a day spa trip to Sisters planned with my Portland friends.
It was a lovely bath, though. Marvelously luxurious. Dreamy. Unfortunately, I kept thinking back to a odd event with Jennifer the other day. She had made some delicious brownies. As she was walking by, she said, “Oh, you have chocolate on your neck.” She held my arm, leaned in, and she licked it off!
I was revolted. I should have made her stop, but for some reason I let her finish. I was frozen. She let go, and I heard her heels go click, click, click. Even after the door opened and closed, I stood there for several moments. I was just so stunned. I don’t even think there was any chocolate on my neck. I’m a very careful eater.
Now I have to figure out how to let her know that it was completely inappropriate. I suppose she’s a lesbian, but who can tell anymore ever since Britney kissed Madonna on television?
Well, anyway, I’ve got to find Bob and get him to deal with this irritating bank problem.
This morning I found the statistics page for my blog. I must say I am stunned by the reception I’m getting! Thousands of page views! I feel like Sally Fields when she won the Oscar. You like me!
Bend is a great community. Everyone is so interested in Real Estate! If all Realtors are getting the interest I’m getting, I think we can expect more and more growth and success!
It made me feel so good to find out how many people are listening to me. It gave me a warm feeling. And that means a lot to me.
Last night I got a phone call from a Realtor I had mentioned on my blog. I guess I had overstepped some sort of boundary when I called her my “friend.” I really should have said that I’m a fan of hers. So I’d like to go ahead and make that apology right here. I’m sorry. What made me a bit more distraught was that this Realtor wasn’t fond of my “Marvelous Idea” of busing sellers to California and buyers to Bend. I’m not sure why she didn’t like the idea, but she was very set against it. This is frustrating for me, since I still feel the time is now to do something really bold!
But you, my wonderful readers, have more than turned my mood around! You’ve linked to my blog from all kinds of web sites I’ve never even heard of! And you’ve emailed my blog to your friends, too! Amazing!
I have a nice quiet morning ahead of me. I might just read a romance novel in the tub! I thought Bob and I were supposed to drive up to the lake today, but I don’t know where he’s gotten himself to. I can’t even call him because his cell phone is plugged in right next to his computer, charging! He’s lucky that he hasn’t gotten any calls this morning!
I’ve always been a hard worker. I can’t stand laziness! I want to see people put their noses to the grindstone. When I was a bank teller, I worked hard. When I managed a retail store, I worked hard. Now I’m a Realtor, and I work very hard!
Sometimes, though, it’s not just how hard you work. Sometimes you need a new and better idea. The age of the Internet is an amazing time. We don’t make cars anymore, after all, we use our brains!
At certain times, the person with the boldest idea reaps the big rewards. And I believe I have that bold idea.
Every time I talk to someone in California, they say they want to move up to Bend. California is the biggest state in the nation, with almost 34 million people. And nearly all of them would rather live in Bend.
So what’s stopping them? Think about your typical day. You get up in the morning and you have something to do. Some of you might have children to send to school. Some of you might have a rewarding job you love, as I do. You have pets to take care of, people to talk to on the telephone. Our lives are so busy!
We have about 1600 residential properties available (some people are foolish enough to briefly try to sell their own houses–maybe fifty of these people at a time).
Now, did you see these numbers? 34 million. 16 hundred. This is going to be simple!
We just fix up those broken BAT buses, fill them with the home sellers, and head down to California. Once we’re there, our sellers take over for the Californians who want to come up and buy houses in Bend. Our sellers do everything! Feed the pets and kids. Mow the lawn. Anything that needs done. Meanwhile the buyers have been bussed up here and are dazzled by the wonderful houses, plus lots of champagne! They’re sure to fight over the best and most expensive properties.
Such a simple idea, but no one has done it yet!
I’m going to propose this at the next Realtor’s meeting. All we need to do is get the sellers ready for a fun road trip, and get a few million dollars from the city to promote the whole thing!
With our inventory gone, we’ll be right back in 2005! The buyers will be instant winners. And proud Bendites!
My husband Bob builds green houses. I know what you’re thinking: “My, how dreadful, green houses in Bend?” But it’s not the color green I’m talking about. I mean environmentally-friendly houses.
Green houses are the next big thing, and I’m so proud of Bob for building them. Green houses cost just a little more to build, but you can sell them for much, much more than a regular house, so everybody wins! Also, Bob can build his houses in pristine wilderness areas, and there’s little complaint because green houses are so good for the environment. It’s like giving Mother Nature a spoonful of cough medicine!
Bob and I show our environmental commitment whenever we can so that we can help sell his houses. Last year, we bought two Toyota Priuses to drive around town. They are so much fun! I like being so low to the ground when I drive. I feel like I’m racing! My cousin Mimi in San Diego said if we buy one more, we’ll be carbon neutral! She was laughing when she said it, because I think she believes we can’t afford another car, but we’re planning just one more refinancing for a cute little sailboat, so I think we may go ahead and buy another Prius, too. I’d love to put some sort of “carbon neutral” sticker on my business cards!
Bob’s business is doing so well that he’s had a lot of free time around the house lately. I guess he’s hired enough workers that he doesn’t even need to do the work himself anymore! I must say that it’s an adjustment to have him around so much. I prefer to take the man into the house in the evening, around the same time I put the cat out. Man in, cat out! I should make him go frame some houses so his muscles don’t turn to flab! And so I can keep the house clean!
It looks like another great fall day starting, but right now we’re just getting ready for another day puttering around the house. I’ll have to think of something to do. I had a dreadful open house yesterday and I need to get my mind off it. If the “buyers” are going to smirk, they should just stay out of the house! Maybe I can drive around town in my Prius and listen to some motivational tapes!
Last month I hired a terrific assistant. Her name is Jennifer, and you’ll probably get her if you call my office number. She’s just 24, but she’s sharp as a whip. Really smart. She’s from Atlanta, so she has a sweet Southern accent. She practically drips honey when she talks! When the men hear her on the phone they are just dying to see her.
And what a looker! A cute little blond with everything pointing north. When I was in school, only a couple girls had bodies like that. Now it seems like they all do. I’m not sure why. They all work out, of course, and they have that growth hormone in the milk. If only we had had that!
We had an awkward moment when she interviewed. I almost didn’t hire her. She was new to the Northwest and she pronounced “Awbrey Butte” as “Awberry butt.” My eyes opened up big and wide. I explained her mistake and she was very embarrassed. I suppose it takes some time to learn all the new words. She didn’t even know what a Safeway was! She said they have “Publics” and “Piggly Wiggly” in Atlanta. No wonder she moved!
I was worried that she might dress too provocatively, but she has a smart sense of style. Really classy white blouses with gray skirts and jackets. Bob says that if she can’t sell the damned listings with those legs, no one can. In fact, she already sold a house in Northwest Crossing, and for an Awbrey Butte price!
I’m just tickled with her. I think you will be too!
I’m a big supporter of the Bend Bulletin. It’s a great paper with a proud history. But lately they’ve run some stories I think are inappropriate. All that discussion of Columbia Aircraft, for example. Excuse me, but who cares? I think we could do without stories of layoffs and buyouts and upheaval. It’s not useful to the community. What should be covered are all the great new jobs that are coming to Bend, because that’s what’s important. And all the great new people and houses that are showing up every day! Bend is a growth story, after all. Anything that goes against that just confuses people. Is it a newspaper’s job to confuse people?
There are also stories about poor people, homeless people, etc. No one wants to read that. And please, there are no poor people in Bend! We keep our poor people in Redmond and LaPine. They have their own poor-people communities there and I’m sure they’re very happy. It’s a marvelous system we have in Central Oregon.
Of course there are the people who come from Redmond and LaPine to work in Bend, but I don’t think many of them are genuinely poor. The other day at Newport Market my cashier was a young lad who looked remarkably like a picture of John Jacob Astor I’ve seen. The boy is probably worth millions. Likely, he’s working his way up through all sorts of jobs so he can run a large retail chain. I’ve known rich families that do that–they send their scions off into the real world to learn how everything works. Think about it. If he were poor, why would he be in Bend? It just doesn’t make any sense.
I’d like to get to know more people from LaPine and Redmond. I’m sure there are nice ones.
I did get to talk on the phone with a Realtor from Redmond the other day. I should invite her up to see my new paving stones in the side yard. She told me that she had been quoted in the paper a couple weeks ago. She had said that prices couldn’t go down much more. What a ridiculous thing to say. Prices haven’t gone down at all. Well, maybe in Redmond, but not in Bend. Silly Redmond–what can you expect when you base your economy around a “Super” Wal-Mart? Has anyone in the whole country EVER even been inside a Wal-Mart?
Anyway, she was upset that some people were razzing her about the Bulletin story. But it’s not what you think. See, these people teasing her think that houses could go down by as much as 5%. Some people think maybe even more!
Isn’t that silly? What sad lives these people must have, full of self-deception. “Pam, honey,” I said, “I’ve never heard anything quite so funny. Next, they’ll be saying that summer comes in the winter in New Zealand! It makes no sense! Don’t you worry about them!”
We’re lucky to live in such a marvelous city, where the only thing to worry about is a few backward people with goof ball ideas who spend their time on the Internet making up pseudo-scientific reasons that this or that “has” to happen! They don’t know anything. They’re rabble-rousers.
Oh, I can get myself so worked up! But it’s a lovely evening. No worries, Sally, no worries at all! I’ve opened the study window. The air is brisk and marvelous, and I can almost see the mountains. If only I could get that damned neighbor’s tree to finally die. Oh well, a project for another day.
Bob’s supposed to pick out some wine on his way home so we can have a romantic evening. I hope he gets something expensive!
