Phone Calls

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.

A Marvelous Way To Go

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.

Marvelous, Delicious Brownies!

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.

A Marvelous Scented Bubble Bath!

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!

My Marvelous Idea!

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!

Marvelous Green!

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!

Marvelous “Butte”!

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!

Marvelous, Brisk Fresh Air!

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!

A Marvelous Water Feature!

Some of us on Awbrey play bridge. It’s a lovely game. Lately, a lot of the men have been playing something called “Texas Hold Them,” which is a poker game. I won’t let Bob play poker. I believe it’s gambling. Bridge, on the other hand, is a civilized game. People should be careful what games they play. Barbaric games encourage barbaric thoughts and actions.

Last week I got very upset because a couple we play bridge with–well, precisely, Cindy, the lady of the couple–accused us of cheating. Now, of course we do cheat. But everyone does, and I’m sure she didn’t catch us. Bob and I have a very clever way of cheating. I’m not going to say what it is exactly, but it involves the manner in which I apply lipstick after I am dealt my hand. And the way Bob scratches his face.

It really doesn’t matter how we cheat–everyone can figure out their own way. The reason why we cheat–why everyone cheats–is obvious. I don’t know the cards Bob is holding, so I don’t know what to play. The game would be no fun at all without cheating. Calling out our cheating was very tacky, because of course they cheat too.

The way she called out the cheating was especially irritating. She said, “My, what an amazing play that was. How you ever thought to play the four ahead of the ten–well, I’ll never know.” Oh, I could have screamed. Later, while we were drinking tea, I dropped a sugar cube under the table and ground it in with my heel.

When Bob and I were driving home I made a lot of harrumphing noises to try to get him to talk about it, but apparently, his anger was such that he wasn’t ready to talk. That’s how men are. I can’t imagine we’ll be playing bridge with Cindy and Ron again.

I heard the oddest thing on the local news. I heard that someone drowned in the canal! How terrible. That canal has always bothered me. It reminds me of some nasty waterway in Arkansas or Alabama. I hate selling homes along it. I can almost hear Dueling Banjos, and I think, “How can I ever sell this house?” I have difficulty putting myself into the mind of anyone who would be willing to buy down there. And I don’t understand how my sellers decided to buy there in the first place. But I sure understand why they want to sell! It’s a hideous area.

They should pipe up that nasty thing before someone gets one of those deadly mosquito diseases. As a bonus, those poor people along the canals could finally get decent backyards. And nobody would tramp through their property with mangy dogs. They could even put in a water feature if they miss the water.

I do love a good water feature. It brings nature into your yard! Real nature! A good water feature always makes me smile. A little fake stream, or a pond with those delightful goldfish, or maybe a little gurgling statue. When I was in Europe, I saw a statue of a little boy tinkling. It was marvelous. I’m going to suggest to Bob that we take some money out of the house to commission a reproduction of that darling little boy. I’ll be the talk of the Butte!

Simply Marvelous!

I live in Bend, Oregon. It is marvelous! Lately, some jealous, or just mean, people have been saying it’s past its prime. That’s ridiculous–Bend is just as marvelous as it always has been.

Recently, Bend (indeed, my little Awbrey Butte neighborhood) made it onto the cover of the Wall Street Journal. It was very exciting. My neighbor Joan Grundeman was even quoted in it. She’s a wonderful woman with an impeccable house. Some part-time nurse had strung up clotheslines to dry her sheets. Can you imagine? Clotheslines on Awbrey Butte? That’s quite below us. We can all afford dryers (and believe me–the best dryers) on Awbrey Butte.

Frankly, I’m not sure what a part-time nurse is doing on Awbrey Butte. She must have bought before prices got up to where they belong. I hope she is kicked out. Next thing you know someone will be stringing up a shortwave antenna, or putting a scarecrow with ratty clothes in a garden. You can’t let these assaults on the senses start, or people might even start wearing loud clothes, just to be obnoxious.

Fresh on the heels of this Wall Street Journal excitement, I found out that a house down the street is going up for sale. I wondered what on earth could be happening to make someone move off Awbrey. I knocked on the door with some cookies and a stunning woman with amazing eyebrows and boobs answered. I asked her where she got her eyebrows done and she gave me a card. Turned out she’s in the makeover business. I complimented her and asked why her house was for sale.

“Oh, we’re going back to California. My husband doesn’t like the winter.”

“But winter is ski season,” I said. I must say I already knew that I did not like where this conversation was going.

“Well, we like the warm weather better. Bend is beautiful, but we miss all our old friends and family.”

“Well, family, yes. But aren’t the friends here–the people here–better?”

She just smiled. I awkwardly handed her a plate of cookies I had bought at Newport Market. Lovely little things. “I baked these for you,” I said. “Doesn’t the time fly? I meant to make you some when you moved in.”

She laughed. “Thank you so much. But we were here before you were, you know.”

“Oh really?” What a rude woman. I would be glad to see her go. Not the Awbrey type at all. A woman painting eyebrows all day. Imagine.

Her house is lovely. I imagine it will sell right away, as soon as she and her husband get all their obnoxious belongings out of it. This weekend they went down to San Diego to look for a house. I must admit that I was so peeved at her that when I woke up at two p.m. last Saturday night to tinkle, or I guess it would be Sunday morning, I snuck down the street in my nightgown and straddled a little bush near her front door and tinkled on it. After all, she must have known that I’m a Realtor. She could have at least asked me if I would list the house.

Business in Real Estate is great now. I have more listings than I ever have had. In fact, I’ve started to turn sellers down. I enjoy my life of leisure. It’s really my husband’s job to bring home the bacon. I just sell Real Estate for social reasons. I like to meet people. Especially the beautiful people on Awbrey.

The sellers are just lovely. The buyers, though, have become a chore. They are puffed up by stories in the paper about it being a “buyer’s market.” Please. That’s just what we say to get them over any hesitation they may have. You never know what some joker, who doesn’t really want to buy and is just playing a prank, will put into an offer.

For instance, I was selling a little house for a lovely lady–Mrs. Moss–who was moving into a retirement community. Oh, she loved her birds! She had all kinds of feeders for them. Now, birds aren’t a favorite of mine. First of all, my darling Persian, Contessa, just rips them to shreds. But, also, there is all the fecal matter to clean up. But, anyhow, this Mrs. Moss loved her birds. She wanted to sell only to someone who would keep up the feeding.

Two years ago, buyers would do anything for a seller. But this man who wanted to buy the house… Well, he seemed so nice at first, but he made a face when I told him about the birds. And when the offer came in, a paragraph that I didn’t even see was in there. I don’t know how I missed it. But I passed it along to Mrs. Moss with a smile on my face (I will never forgive the prospective buyer for this). The clause said that Mrs. Moss (“aka The Old Bird,” as the contract said), for the rest of her life, must come to the house every Halloween DRESSED AS A BIRD and eat a bowl of birdseed for the amusement of his party guests.

Never in my life have I seen buyers wearing such scorn for sellers on their sleeves. It’s as if they think they are calling all the shots. It’s unbearable, really.

Needless to say, Mrs. Moss had some alterations to make on the counter-offer. I’d really rather not discuss it anymore. Let’s just say it escalated into a ridiculous tit-for-tat back-and-forth. Eventually Mrs. Moss did sell to him. She said she “had to.” Unfortunately for her, the bird houses were gone the day the new people took possession. A tragedy, from her perspective.

Still, Bend gets better and better. We will have our Trader Joe’s soon and then we’ll be able to say that there’s nothing California has that we don’t have! I can’t wait.

As my good friend Norma DuBois insists, “This is Central Oregon. This is Bend. People want to live here.”

Sally Heatherton,

Bend