And I am concerned my realtor may not be the pit bull negotiator one would hope for. I know this is shallow, but the last time I saw him, he was wearing coral colored jeans and loafers with no socks. As Super Agent Fred pointed out, he was a short step from wearing a sweater jauntily knotted about his shoulders. So being fierce at the bargaining table, maybe, probably not.
Just in case, I have decided to create a virtual shrine to various saints and other voodoo whatnots that might be of help.
First up, we have Saint Roch, since the house is on the street named in his honor. He's specially invoked against the plague, which is appropriate since I have AIDS and because of the raw sewage hanging around under the house. He is also sometimes one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers. I'm charmed by the fact that this is just a part-time gig for him.
He also would appear to be a medieval can-can dancer. Get it on, girl.
We're also including an old favorite, Our Lady of Prompt Succor. This is a title of the Virgin Mary and she is the patroness of New Orleans and Louisiana. She's who you turn to when things go bad and you need help in a hurry, and god knows, that happens plenty in New Orleans. Just as a side note, I'll admit that I've also occasionally been referred to as Our Lady of Prompt Succor, usually at some bathhouse or the other, but that's neither here nor there.
Plus she's a snappy dresser.
St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes is on the list, as he on plenty of others, just in case.
Lastly, Saint Justin of DeRoy cause look how clear his skin is. Right?
I'd certainly give Prompt Succour to Saint Justin of DeRoy, house or no house... Jx
ReplyDeleteGet in line behind me, sister.
DeleteYour realtor sounds like he might be fierce at brunch, but not at the bargaining table.
ReplyDeleteExactly. If ind myself wanting to egg him on: "Come on honey, don't' take any crap off that swanky bitch. Get in there and punch. Here, I'll hold your jewelry." Which I would pronounce as "joo-ry."
DeleteThat realtor won't know what hit him & the homeowners will find themselves throwing money at that saint Justin...
ReplyDeleteI just hope Mary's fancy gold dress doesn't throw them off. And by Mary I mean the Virgin, not my realtor.
DeleteHe sounds more poodle than pit bull.
ReplyDeleteAhem
Meanwhile. I'll say a novena to St Justin of the Clear Skin for you.
Does it seem to be getting crowded all up in here in the Grotto of St. Justin the Fair?
Deletesigh, things had sounded so wonderful.
ReplyDeletei'm hoping you don't feel that you must have this house. if you do, oy.
if you don't, good. don't let the difficult logistics force your decision.
you'll go back and find another. a better one.
Thanks sweetie, and I'm not getting stampeded. I think the price they came back with is ok, fair even. I'm just annoyed by their attitude.
DeleteI'd be annoyed too; despite the price of the house, that's a ridiculous counter to your counter. I'm starting to think they actually don't want to sell this place . . .
ReplyDeleteDid I mention it's three siblings selling it, the lead one of whom is a LAWYER? Need I say more?
DeleteAll in good time, my pretty...
ReplyDeleteI'm not worried. I'm living large in San Francisco however it goes.
DeleteThe mother of Jesus is long overdue a makeover in my opinion, perhaps frock guru Gok Wan could go trolling around catholic countries jazzing up the roadside grottos of Madonnas out with the boring blue and white and in with the black leather and leopard print with hints of cerise, sexy but not slutty.
ReplyDeleteI'm not a catholic but I do recite this poem if I've lost something. It usually turns up within the hour.
Something's lost and can't be found
Please St Anthony look around.
The Relator that the Husband and I had when we moved to Baltimore was pretty much a waste of time. He wasn't aggressive in finding a house for us, we had to do the work. This leads us to believe very strongly that he is a big bottom.
ReplyDeleteAlso, pray to Saint Joseph. He's the patron saint of families, and the patron saint of fighting Communism. Can't hurt.
ReplyDeleteAs Pope Peenee, you're capable of miracles.
ReplyDeleteJust like mr peenee to recognize that Cholera is the new black. much good juujuu being sent your way via rickshaw. kabuki never feels the deal is complete until the seller is in tears. Tears, kabuki demands this.
ReplyDeleteI'm with you girl. Actually, I'm not in Palm Springs, cause I just got back to S.F. from Big Sur, but you know.
DeleteIn French, the word "saint" (saint) is homonym with "seins" (boobs). Just so you know.
ReplyDeleteMay I wish you a happy turkey day?
Mercia nd everyone involve in this, except me, of course, could be described as boobs.
DeleteMay I recommend St. Thomas Aquinas, doctor angelicus, for his abundance of knowledge ? St. Roch's wound btw came lower and lower over the years; originally it was found at the upper beginning of the leg.
ReplyDeleteI'm telling, that Rocky was obviously a dynamite little can can girl, yanking up her skirts to flash the bits. Shocking.
ReplyDelete