If Only I Was Catholic (and Had a Front Yard)

I think I mentioned that I bought a house last week. *pulls out paper bag and breathes deeply several times*  I also put my wee Hoboken pad on the market.  The thing is, she (much like my little brother) is not getting much action.

Obviously I’m not doing a very good job of keeping my pimp hand strong here.  She’s been on the market seven days (*shakes fist at the heavens and shouts*  SEVEN DAYS!) and exactly three people have turned out to peek under her skirt.  One of those peeps was my neighbor from up the block that popped in for the open house just to see what our place was like so he could better determine the list price for his apartment that he’s about to put on the market.  He’s not exactly the market I’m trying to reach.

Fucker.

Now I’m all obsessing about how to get my apartment sold.  The good news is it half keeps my mind off my rapidly approaching scans.  The bad news is IT’S MAKING ME FUCKING CRAZY.  I’m talking Alec-Baldwin-on-his-daughter’s-voicemail crazy.  Maybe even Lindsay-Lohan-when-she-can’t-find-her-coke crazy.  I still haven’t reached Tom-Cruise-on-Oprah’s-couch or Paula-Abdul-on-strange-meds crazy but I fear it’s only a matter of time.

I need a plan.  STAT.

As always in a time of crisis, I turned to the most level headed sage of the Interwebz – The Bloggess.  She is also trying to sell her house.  Her realtor told her to bury a St. Joseph statue upside down in her front yard right next to the For Sale sign.

Houston, we have a problem.  Technically we have several problems.

1 – I’m not Catholic.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent some time in Catholic churches, but I’m always the gal sitting all alone in the pew while the rest of the congregation stands in line for the free samples they pass out near the altar.  I’m not really looking to get struck down by a bolt of lightening for crossing some sort of line in proper non-Catholic etiquette…again.

Fraggles Rock

2 – I don’t have any spare saint action figures sitting around the house.  I have a Fish Out of Water pez dispenser that might work in a pinch.  I suppose I could part with Red but I would have to be really desperate.  Do you think I could just make a cross out of some plastic knives and call it done?  Seriously, I kind of doubt they sell these things at my local CVS.

3 – I don’t have a front yard.  I have a front stoop, or rather the building has a front stoop.  I can’t imagine they’d be down with me jack hammering up a chunk of the concrete to place my faux catholic pez charade underground.  As for the For Sale sign, it is bolted to the wrought iron gate in front of our stoop – it’s sharp legs, designed to sink into soft soil, scrape against the sidewalk when the gate moves.  The best I could do at this point is duct tape my pez dispenser upside down to the back of the sign and hope that some partying Wall Street type doesn’t rip it off  in a drunken stupor next Saturday night.  Do you think that might stand a chance of working?

Help me Interwebz!  Do you know any secret voodoo chants or ritual sacrifices guaranteed to speed up the sale of my apartment?  If you don’t come up with something good, I’ll be forced to include links like this in my blog on a daily basis.  Nobody wants that.  (Well, obviously some people want that but I’m hoping not many of you like unicorns THAT much.)

While I’m being needy and asking you to do things, don’t forget to enter my contest/writing challenge/giveaway.  It’s getting VERY interesting.


Was that good for you, too? Then click here and follow my Facebook page. Or even better, join the mailing list. Free pony with every subscription. Probably.

22 thoughts on “If Only I Was Catholic (and Had a Front Yard)

  1. Speaking as a lapsed but mildly traumatized Catholic I am happy to inform you that once you convert your house will sell in microseconds.
    You can bury nine million “saint” statues upside down but without the sparkly magic of catholicism they won’t use their wonder twin powers to activate and move real estate.
    This is proven, by the way.

    1. Wait, there’s glitter in catholicism? Are there unicorns in catholicism? I can tell you one thing for sure, there was no glitter with the Quakers.

  2. Don’t listen to Dufmanno! Don’t fear calling on St. Joe because you’re not Catholic. He wasn’t Catholic either when he was alive. Get a little flower pot, fill it full of dirt, stick a St. Joseph medal upside down in it, and put the flower pot right beside your front door. That’s close enough! Then stand back and wham, bam, thank you St. Joe.
    .-= Debra She Who Seeks´s last blog ..Mental Duck to Mental Swan Award =-.

  3. In times of need like this, I generally turn to an old family tradition that involves slaughtering a goat inside a sacred circle of salt while drinking Ouzo. It’s a little messy and it takes a while to get used to the smell (think black licorice, copper pennies and gristle) but it’s totally worth it.
    .-= Miss Spoken´s last blog ..Not Exactly Bonnie and Clyde =-.

  4. Dude, WTF, the answer is in your link. Tape that guy to your sign!!! Guaranteed people!! I mean, your moving so it will be a bit sad that you won’t be around for the undoubtably totally fantastic new people who will be attracted by him, but bygones. I’m telling you, grab your unicorn phone right now and see if he is available. I did tell you I have my real estate license in escrow, right? Too bad Kentucky doesn’t have a reciprocal agreement with dirty Jerzee….I would come sell that lil slice of unicorn nirvana for ya’.
    .-= Wicked Shawn´s last blog ..Open Letter To Rielle Hunter =-.

  5. Bug,
    See, I read that post by the bloggess where she suggested to bury St. Joe upside down. I don’t think he liked that very much. I for one, fucking saint or not would not want anyone fucking with me UPSIDE DOWN! Although, I was born catholic, beaten into submission to go to Church (thanks grandma, love her though!) Went to an all girl’s catholic school. No I am not a lesbian. Jesus. WTF. Didn’t do any good btw. But that is not my point. The point is burying and hanging things upside down conjures up shit. I mean shit. Worse than the unicorn man coming to your door. Hello Satan?

    Virgina.

    P.S. Unicorn man was cute though, he had a nice ass.

  6. I think if you just hire THAT gut to stand next to the for sale sign you’ll get a ton of potential buyers. They just might not be the sort of company you’d bring home to mama. My jaw actually dropped when I saw that genitalia-turned-pink-rubber-ball (no pun intended). Wowzers.
    .-= carrie meadows´s last blog ..Candied Carrot Soup =-.

  7. I’ve never sold a damn thing in my life…or owned anything for that matter, so I have no advice, but I did want to ask: How in the fuck did you run across that ad? And, to tell you that his hooves make me horny. Get it? Hehe…
    .-= Harna´s last blog ..Where I Come From =-.

  8. You look forward to you parents visiting… Someone, somewhere definitely likes you.

    Dress it up a little (or down… dude, HGTV? Ha…) The place will sell. Just catching up on your blog now — congrats about buying the house! That’s wonderful!

  9. I just toasted an Eggo Waffle and the face of Jesus appeared on one side and told me to let you know that the minute you start burying shit upside down you are headed down a slippery slope. And by slippery he CLEARLY meant greased with the slimy bodies of satanic minions.
    Seriously though, isn’t Hoboken still the hot bed of cool it was when I moved out of NY? You couldn’t get a place there to save your life when I was still kickin’ around.
    .-= Kelly´s last blog ..Facebook Used In Devious Revenge Plot =-.

  10. you need to exorcise all traces of that unicorn demon from your motherfucking property. i don’t care what it costs, rid yourself of it’s evil doom pronto. really, elly, what. the. fuckingfuck.
    .-= pattypunker´s last blog .. =-.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.