The Realest of Real Estate

I'm sure a few of you know this already, but I'm now under contract on a house here in Fort Collins. It's been an interesting few months of house-hunting, but after one pair of douchebag sellers, several missed opportunities, and many, many visits to overpriced, sub-par houses, it seems we've finally found the one. This is pretty much solely to my awesome realtor, Jill, who found this house the day before it was listed so we could sneak in.

Though it's far from over, and even a little uncertain at this point (inspection dependent), I've really enjoyed the process so far. Sure, I've seen a lot of real estate deals - my dad used to flip houses pretty routinely and make good money doing it. That doesn't mean I knew shit about shit, or even currently do, but the amount I've learned is not insubstantial. The vast majority of that credit belongs to my dad, who accompanied me to several houses and pointed out all the little things that I may have foolishly missed.

In other news, I think something terrible has happened to my brain. For the past couple days, I've been coming home, maybe cracking a beer, and willingly doing homework for several hours. And enjoying it. To those of you who know me, yes, you should be worried. I don't know what the fuck is going on either, but I personally blame the Army for twisting my mind into some sort of self-motivated (or monetarily motivated) academic creature. The horror.

My fellow adult beverage enthusiasts will be intrigued to know that my dad and I are building a bar-style (remote keg) draft beer system at the mountain house. It's actually been quite simple; most of the equipment has been acquired through Amazon Prime... you know you're lazy when you refuse to vacate the couch in order to have cold beer on tap. Anyway, I might consider posting a step-by-step instruction (if there's a demand) for those of you who would consider such a DIY task too daunting to tackle. Of course, the system won't be going in until next weekend, as I absolutely must watch Peyton Manning and the Broncos do their thing in Jersey this Sunday and the ranch does not have any of that new-fangled television stuff.

Go Broncos!

Goddamn Space Invaders.

No, not that kind. I'm talking about that guy or girl you sit next to in class, or that you work with, or ride the subway with. Like water, they will naturally fill up whatever space is not physically occupied, including that area I like to call "up in my business," but most people refer to as a bubble.

Now, let me preface this by saying that I'm not one of those people who needs three feet on all sides between myself and the nearest human, although I do enjoy that. As a former paratrooper and a pretty experienced world traveler, I'm fairly comfortable with spending lengths of time in situations that would make most people homicidally claustrophobic. I don't think the problem lies in me.

Take, for example, an incident that occurred maybe an hour ago, in my Chemistry recitation, in which literally every seat is filled with something resembling a human.

I sit down two seats from anyone (obviously I got there early), get out my stuff, play with my phone. Minutes later, average-looking 18- or 19- year old college bro sits down behind me. I think nothing of it until, somehow, his knee is tapping against the back of my chair.

Taptap.

Okay, I think. He'll stop in a minute, whatever.

Taptaptaptap.

This is getting irritating.

Taptaptaptaptaptap.

I loudly clear my throat and scoot my chair up a couple inches. Ah, sweet relief.

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap.

I turn around and politely (honest to God) ask him to please stop. This is when I notice that he's actively attempting to invade not only my space, but that of everyone around him. His jacket is halfway on the desk of the girl behind him. She's oblivious. Looking around, however, I see looks of obvious frustration and irritation from his obviously non-confrontational but terrified victims attempting to avoid contact with his various limbs and possessions. Upon request, he grunts acknowledgement and stops. Briefly.

The "test" is handed out, and the room falls silent but for the sounds of scribbling pencils and the tapping of calculator keys.

And that goddamn knee in my back. Again.

By this time, I'm still rational, but steadily headed towards Fully Fucking Pissed. I turn around, this time with full-on crazy eye. Dude. You have GOT to stop. Get. Your knee. Off. My chair.

Obviously, everyone nearby is staring, interested to see what happens when you combine a space-invading dipshit with an angry bearded sociopath in the wild. Much to everyone's disappointment (except for mine), the kid goes straight up ghost white, sits up straight, and gets his shit together. I take a moment to pat myself on the back and return to my test.

Humans: 1, Space Invaders: 0

...

The point of this story is not to make me look like an irritable douchebag (which may have happened anyway), but to simply point out that daily life is invasive enough without me having to worry about you touching me. Whether it's cramped classroom seats, rush hour on public transport, or the "National Security" Agency recording your weird erotic fan-fiction internet activity (hi guys!), we spend our lives with people up in our business.

Don't add insult to injury.

And, as always, Go Broncos.

Broncos Superbowl, and Other Excitement

I'd like to formally apologize for depriving you all of my cunning wit and linguistic brilliance for the past several months. I really have no excuse, other than laziness.

My fall consisted of catching huge Brown trout in the back yard, somehow scraping out a 3.5 GPA last semester, and cooking lots of food with the lady friend. In other words, it was awesome.

Winter break was mostly occupied by hanging out at the mountain house, shooting stuff, drinking whiskey, and an unsuccessful elk hunt west of Craig, CO. Also, of course, lots of watching Peyton Manning be awesome, which leads me to my next point:

Go Broncos! Superbowl, baby! Woooooooooooo!

Anyway, today was my first day back in class, and I'm actually quite excited for this semester. (I can hear you all asking, "Where's the real Jack? What have you done with him, imposter!?" Rest assured, it's weird for me too.) Now that I've gently but thoroughly warmed my thinking muscle back up to its pre-military operating temperature, I find that learnin' stuff quite easy and natural. I can even math! Look at me go!

Of course, with the return of the students, the automotive monkeyfuck that is Fort Collins traffic is restored to its on-season levels of insanity, as is my lack of tolerance for humanity in general and dipshit drivers in particular. In addition to all of the things from my last post, snow and ice are often factors here this time of year, and it appears that many of you fucktarded mouth-breathers have never encountered this phenomenon before, despite the fact that around 70% of the country receives regular or semi-regular winter snowfall. But I digress.

I'm currently house hunting in Fort Collins, which, while exciting, is actually a huge pain in the ass. The market at the moment dictates that one be ready, cash in hand, and not hesitate to make an offer on a good house. In addition, I am, or was, relatively clueless as to the ins and outs of purchasing a home, although I'm quickly learning. Fortunately, my old man knows real estate like nobody's business, so he's watching my six and making sure I don't do anything stupid.

Nothing else, really... gonna work my way through this Great Divide Brewer's Picks 12 pack and make some dinner soon.

Go Broncos!