Monthly Archives: May 2013

Fair Credit Reporting My Ass

So my Rockstar and I met with a mortgage lady last week.

Since.. well, pretty much forever, this has been a painful and heartbreaking act for me. In the beginning, it was because I had no credit, because I was young, and unfruitful (in the money area). Later on, it was because I had too much credit (damn, you, Victoria’s Secret and your $2800 credit limits!) and just as unfruitful. In the past year, though, despite my lack of love for my job, I have made many dollars, a few of which I put to good use and paid off the four credit cards that were so shamefully taken away from me by their parent companies. Too, I paid off the $79 I owed to my once- amazing book club from about 6 years ago. Altogether, in the last 12 months, I’ve paid off over $5000 of my debt. So when my Rockstar FINALLY agreed to go to a mortgage lender, I was not in the least embarrassed by my low credit score, because compared to how low it was a year ago, or three years ago, it was phenomenal.

My Rockstar was dubious about his credit score as well, but for completely different reasons. It’s true he is immersed in debt, (thanks to his getting a loan for MY truck, and his over-used Guitar Center card) but his credit score is not in the least shameful. The problem there is his debt -to- income ratio, which would be acceptable were it not for me and my yellow truck.

Our mortgage lady was amazing- answering all our unasked questions, and not making me feel inferior in the least for my unworthy credit score. As she circled and marked the offending information on my credit report, I felt exactly as I did in 4th grade when I lied to my dad about knowing the 13 colonies and their capitals and I received my first and only F on a quiz. As she handed me my failing credit report with all the wrong answers marked, I shrugged and replied, “Well, I can only pay shit off as quickly as I make money.”

Mortgage lady agreed, and informed me that most of what she had marked were things that I’ve already paid off that just haven’t been removed from my report. She told me to give all those companies a call, and request of them that they remove the info from my credit report, since it was paid and it wasn’t doing them any good to keep reporting it anymore. I left feeling light-hearted, knowing without a doubt that the nice collection companies would do my bidding if only I asked.

It was not to be.

I just spent the last two hours calling those fuckers, and was  made to feel a  dumb bitch. Of the 5 places I called, only one- ONE!-  was courteous enough to (without a problem, mind you) assure me they’d remove their account from my credit report. The 4 others all argued with me, claiming that due to the fair credit reporting act, there was nothing they could do, and that their fucking stupid asses are going to be on my credit report for the next 3 to 5 years. When I told them that yes they COULD remove it (which is exactly what the mortgage lady told me to say), I was transferred, or hung up on, or told, “Im sorry ma’am, we just don’t do that.” When I asked WHY they just couldn’t do that, they replied with the unsatisfactory response, “We just don’t.”

What the fuck have I been throwing all my money at these fuckers if not to have them remove shit from my credit report?! I tell you, this does NOT re-inforce my will to further pay off any other bills that have accrued on my record. If I can pay over 60% of what I owe off, and still be denied house dollars, what’s the fucking point? I’ll live in a squalid dump for the rest of my life and buy infinite amounts of books before I hear one more condescending non-American voice tell me,

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we just can’t tell people you paid shit off a year ago. That just wouldn’t be fair.”


Filed under Humor, Life, Money, Uncategorized, Work

One in 300

… And then I found myself completely out of my element, surrounded by actual singers, as in- voice teachers, theatre majors, baritones, and a microbiologist.

Welcome to my Les Miserables audition.

I believe this was the utterance of my thoughts to myself:

“Fuck. what was I thinking?! I’m scared to sing in front of my Rockstar unless I’ve the help of my good friend Jack Daniels. “They’re all gonna laugh at you!” What was that line from anyway? Whatever. What’s the worse that could happen?”

You could become the inspiration for one of those horrendous audition montages you always see in movies. You know- the ones where the terrible singers all make fools of themselves, and then one amazing singer shows up and automatically blows everybody away.”

“But why couldn’t I be the one who blows everybody away?” I wondered  sadly to myself.

Because this isn’t a fucking boob competition, dumbass.” Myself is sometimes painfully honest to…myself.

Well, at least this girl next to me has purple feet.”

Yeah, that’s exactly what the casting directors are going to be looking at. Her feet. PShhh. You’re pathetic.”

I p’shawed myself. “Well, they’re gonna look at MINE! ‘Cause I gots beautiful red heels on.” I mentally stuck my tongue out at myself.

Ooh! The piano is free! We should go play it, and leave a talented impression, ‘cuz you know your singing isn’t gonna impress no one.” Myself speaks in Southern uneducated black woman bad English sometimes.

Fine.” I go to the piano because I know she’s right.

Of course it would happen that the first audition I ever go to draws a crowd of hopefuls numbering 300. After sitting in a hallway for 5 hours with singers warming up and “lalala”-ing, I wasn’t a bit nervous. I just knew there was no way in hell I was getting a part, even if there were 301 parts to cast. But dammit, I fuckin’ stayed anyway, and I DID what I said I was going to- luckily the directors had the decency to compliment me on my choice of song-Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’, even if I DID choke and make up a few words. No surprise when I didn’t get a call back today. The only consolation I have is that the people who can actually sing were just a wee bit disappointed when I had to cease my stellar piano playing to go make a fool of myself. That, and the fact that in all 300 people, I was one of the cutest, (the other being an amazing male singer  with a nicely-shaped disturbingly shiny shaved head) and was the only one stupid enough to wear 6 inch heels. The Miserable indeed.


Filed under Beauty, Entertainment, Fashion, Humor, Life, music, Uncategorized