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Update on the Phucktographer

And I quote:

Seven weddings until I get to yours. And I am moving as quickly as I can. Please excuse the brief email. Only about 700 more left to answer.

That is the latest on the Phucktographer. I sent him an email three weeks ago and a week and a half later, that was his reply. Tomorrow is Allison and Aaron�s six month wedding anniversary, as well as the six month wedding anniversary for Ryan and me. I�m sure Allison will be cuddled in with her hubby and her cats flipping through their wedding album reminiscing about their beautiful day and how perfect everything was and how great their pictures turned out and how wonderful life will be once their little peanut arrives. Ryan and I will probably be yelling at each other over how crappy the stud finder is and how it does NOT locate studs despite the little light turning green and how plaster and lathe should be outlawed, OUTLAWED! Grrrrr!

Anyhow, I have had to restrain myself from replying to the Phucktographer that I hired him to develop photos not bitch about his lack of professionalism, his unscrupulous business practices and his inability to respond to his clients in a timely manner. I do not feel sorry for that asshole, not even one bit. I briefly thought about offering to help him organize his 700 emails � most of which I�m sure are threats of bodily harm from pissed off brides and their mothers and/or lawyers. Instead, I�ve decided that I�ll just email the guy every month until November and then serve him with papers demanding either my money or the photos. I�m sure my demands will go unanswered at that point, but hell. What�s a girl to do? The guy is a scum bag, and he�ll get his. I keep scouring the web for signs that he is doing business under another name. If ever I find out he is, I will first research all libel laws and then go after him with the tenacity of � shit, I�m too tired for witty analogies. I�ll be on him like a fly on shit. Anyhow, thanks for the question in the guestbook. Keep them coming � it is nice to not bitch about the house for even a few seconds.

Speaking of the house, last night, I discovered a task only slightly less hellacious than scrapping 100 year old paint off of baseboards. Last night, I had the privilege, nay the honor, of climbing a ladder and scrapping the popcorn off the ceiling in my foyer. My husband�s hatred for popcorned ceilings may be the death of me. He is willing, once again, to do tasks WAY out of order so that we may rid the house of popcorned ceilings. I have had to hold him back, explaining carefully that if he doesn�t wait to refinish certain ceilings that he will be limited in his lighting choices. The man has had a full year to select a bathroom lighting fixture, and just this week he claimed that he couldn�t purchase the one he�d taken a liking to because of the type of electrical box that was installed and sheetrocked into the bathroom. I have no pity for him either. He�s had a year. If he hasn�t selected AND purchased a light by the end of day today, I�m going to the national home improvement store nearest to me and selecting a light from their �appeals to the masses� selection of lighting options. That will KILL Ryan as he has declared such lighting options �insulting to the taste of the average American.� He didn�t actually say that, but his look of pure disgust when I suggest that we purchase a light not hand-crafted by some obscure lighting design company in north-eastern Sweden would suggest such a statement.

Today I get to go back to the paint store and purchase a few more cans of paint. This time, the paint is for the guest bedroom, the un-popcorned ceilings and the stairway that should be nice and smoove by end of day Saturday. It is nice to see all of this progress, but it is killing me. I about vomited involuntarily last night when I remembered that I needed to prepare my grad school application by June 1st and had not yet contacted the four schools I attended for two sealed copies of my transcripts. You�d think that since I�m applying to the school from which I received my two undergrads and for which I had to already submit two sealed copies of my transcripts in order to receive said degrees that they would already have this information on file and could simply transfer that to the grad school admissions department. Think again. About $50 later, I�ve faxed requests to all four schools. Hasn�t the world of education ever heard of electronic records? You think they could beam this shit to each other. Transcripts in hand, the only thing that remains for me to do is to complete my grad school application including three essays that are embedded somewhere in the online form that is impossible to complete in one sitting. I still haven�t figured out exactly how I�ll fit an evenings and weekend grad school program into my life, but I guess I�m waiting to do that until after my application has been either accepted or denied. I�ll be really pissed if it is denied because part of the reason I�m too cheap to hire movers is because I�m trying to save up money to pay for this next adventure.

In yesterday�s journal entry, Jane referenced the family wedding we all attended in Dodge City over the weekend. She didn�t have her camera handy, but I did. Check out these two cuties!

Oh, and by means of an inside family joke � Pedro offers you his protection.

11:16 a.m. - May 05, 2005

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