HOW TO CLEAN UP MY CREDIT MYSELF. HOW TO CLEAN UP

HOW TO CLEAN UP MY CREDIT MYSELF. CLEAN OFFICE HUMOR.

How To Clean Up My Credit Myself


how to clean up my credit myself
    clean up
  • tidy: put (things or places) in order; "Tidy up your room!"
  • dispose of; "settle the bills"
  • The fourth position in a team's batting order, typically reserved for a power hitter likely to clear the bases by enabling any runners to score
  • An act of removing or putting an end to disorder, immorality, or crime
  • make a big profit; often in a short period of time; "The investor really cleaned up when the stock market went up"
  • An act of making a place clean or tidy
    how to
  • Practical advice on a particular subject; that gives advice or instruction on a particular topic
  • (How To’s) Multi-Speed Animations
  • Providing detailed and practical advice
  • A how-to or a how to is an informal, often short, description of how to accomplish some specific task. A how-to is usually meant to help non-experts, may leave out details that are only important to experts, and may also be greatly simplified from an overall discussion of the topic.
    credit
  • Add (an amount of money) to an account
  • Publicly acknowledge someone as a participant in the production of (something published or broadcast)
  • give someone credit for something; "We credited her for saving our jobs"
  • money available for a client to borrow
  • Ascribe (an achievement or good quality) to someone
  • recognition: approval; "give her recognition for trying"; "he was given credit for his work"; "give her credit for trying"

Day 365/365: The Last Picture Show
Day 365/365: The Last Picture Show
Three hundred and sixty-five days. One year. In my life. A retrospective. It's been said that a picture is worth a thousand words. That could be true; that could also be an exaggeration. But these photos all are worth at least a hundred words. I've gone back through during this project to see what kinds of shots I've gotten, what kind of lighting I've used. Tried to learn new tips and tricks. At the very least, I can say I retrained myself in manual photography. At the most, I can say I've got a whole year of my life with a photo to match the story of each and every single day. Whether I want to remember them or not. Mostly, I do not. At least not this year. Yeah, maybe I'm getting all Debbie Downer. But it's the truth. The Lowlights: Hardcore underemployment. Car died in the middle of the road (transmission). Read depressing literature. Suffered quarter-century life meltdown. Got hair butchered. Suffered through the great Snowpocalyse and Snowmaggedon's Revenge. Slipped on ice not cleared by apartment complex. Fucked up back. Spent days on end hobbling about on pain killers. Felt like cattle while working for government. Nearly lost my mind. Got hair butchered by an angry Russian. Sliced arm open at grocery store. Face-planted concrete. Five stitches. Facial scar for life. Rear-ended old people on way to job interview, that was of course cancelled. Was lied to and manipulated by best friend of ten years. Crashed rental car, leading to loss of ten-year friendship with someone who was once like a brother to me. Was lied to by potential then actual employer. Ran away screaming. Spent summer underemployed. Read more depressing literature. More car problems. Goodbye another grand. Was told apartment infested with bed bugs. Threw out half my life. Missed only vacation in a year with $140 ticket to see Stevie Nicks. Apartment was in fact NOT infested with bed bugs. Wasted money, happiness and sanity for no reason at all. Lost all possible houses and smacked in the face with the reality that my credit is really, really, really bad. Was reprimanded by complete stranger and told I should rethink my life. Entered my late twenties. Car died in the middle of the road AGAIN (alternator). Faced ex-best friend in court as state's witness. Found out I am currently in the process of waiting to get served, and sued, from rear-ending car accident. Suffering from identity crisis, as I feel like I've become a drone. Became a hermit again. The Highlights: Re-taught myself manual photography. Battled Christmas lights and won. Got a new job. Learned to crock-pot. Realized facial scar not so bad when covered by bangs. Got new job again. Took part in gallery opening. Saw Scooby Doo van and the delorian. Wrote anthropology paper. Saw idol no. 1, Anthony Bourdain, live and in person. Cleaned and purged apartment. Saw idol no. 2, Zooey Deschanel, live and in person. Learned how to make a time-lapse video using photography stills and iMovie. Got new job, a third time. (Though technically old job, it's technically new job.) DID NOT HAVE BED BUGS! Was asked to become contributor to friend's food/anthropology/creative writing blog. And happily accepted offer. Got new glasses, much needed. Had a damn good birthday. Moved the fuck away from Cockeysville and neighbors with bed bugs. Photography appeared in gallery show hosted by friend in a barn. Started writing again. Creatively. For myself. Sometimes for others. Died my hair an obnoxious shade of red, just like the old days. The lowlight list outweighs the highlight list, which is why I'm saying it's been a bad year. I've moved. Held a total of six jobs, including freelance gigs. Became a total foodie and a bit of a lush. Was finally rewarded, after two years of searching, with the full-time job I earned, by being a good employee and trudging through the trenches. Got over my fear of bill collectors calling (which finally, they have stopped!). Gained a better appreciation for the arts. There's been lots of change, injuries, illness, strife, existential dilemmas, breakdowns, crises, and a number of other things I don't need to or want to go into. I've been a bad friend at times. I've been a bad person at times. I've failed at most things I've tried to do this year. Don't take me the wrong way. I'm not trying to be a pessimist here. I'm not angry about any of it. Not even being betrayed by a friend. I've always tried to take shit as it comes, and deal. It is what it is. I'm a realist. Or at least I try to be. But when I'm not, it usually comes out on the glass empty side. That's just my personality. I've tried to change that, too. Doesn't work. The tricky thing about life that I've learned this past year is that, you always remember the things you want to forget, and forget the things you want to remember. Life's an annoying little fucking asshole like that. But like I said, it is what it is. We are who we are. As sad, as ang
Remember the revolution pt. II
Remember the revolution pt. II
Originally posted August 7th. 2006 You ever find yourself in a position where it’s not exactly comfortable but at the same time no necessarily painful either? I call it the dark. Today at work I smacked my elbow on a ladder rung, while trying to hurry a truck out of one of the bays. You know the spot. That not so funny bone. And of course what is the first reaction? Why you shout profanities of course. Then time permitting you clutch your fresh wound, and move on. Life in ANR was much like that. Outside of the band everything around me was beginning to crumble. The relationship with the mother of my brand spanken’ new first offspring was deteriorating faster then any of the countless episodes of the A-team, and I had more financial problems then a gold fish with a credit card. "That will be a dollar fifty." "I’ll take it." "That will be a dollar fifty." "I’ll take it." Ooooooooh you better believe it! Trying to balance everything out was what finally brought my little rock and roll empire crumbling down. It had taken a few questionable months to work out the rough edges of ANR, but in time we’d settled in quite well with each other, and focused on actually making music, with our sights aimed at putting on live performances. Admittedly we hadn’t created anything you could have called fresh or original. Our goal to the finite was to capture a sound that guys could shove each other around too, and girls could shake their ass’ too. The end result? I think we’d pulled it off quite well, but it was always easy to say that when you were preforming to the cold walls of your aunts basement. When we did start booking shows, everything that I had known and learned with the past four bands I’d been a member of went strait out of the proverbial window. It wasn’t to say that like so many might think, there was a twenty four seven party happening. There were no parties at all (at least at first). Only work. Work meant more time away from other things I’d wanted to do. Things I knew I could not fix, but felt compelled in trying to repair after the fact. Things I could not fix, and felt upset about not being able to fix. Things I’d decided to hide from by pretending to be something else. None of that made any sense to me at all then, but looking back I can say that whatever it was I was trying to accomplish, I think I did. I can see now that in away I feel some what indentured to pat myself on the back in my inability to fix all of life’s little un-fixable problems. Putting my personal disasters aside, the first problem as a band that faced us starting out was our set was to short to fill a full nights docket, and as such, we would resort to booking yet a second or sometimes even a third act to either open for us, or at times when we could book acts such as "The Street" (Salt Lake), "Denots" (Idaho Falls) or "Switchitter" (Boise), (Groups far more renowned then ourselves in the north west), opened for them. Once booking was made it was a sit down to grind gears and make up a flyer design. From there it was off to the print shop in the middle of the night, to make as many flyers as we could afford. This alone had on a few occasions created a mountain of stress for me, as it was usually myself forking out the money for the flyers. Flyers that were produced when we we’re pushing a dead line, already boasted the name of a band Leon would be in the middle of sweet talking over his cell phone, as I signed a check for the printed flyers. We all worked day jobs, and in order to make money in a "Never heard of you" band, it meant hustling home the moment the day jobs minimum nine hours had expired, in order to get cleaned up. From there it was off to the next "job", fast, loading the rigs with band equipment. It would take near an hour to load our equipment, and each piece had to be placed in a preplanned position for all of it to fit in one of the two pick up trucks we had. There was an exception to the two truck convoy from time to time. That being in the form of our away shows, in which we’d decided to commission my mothers horse trailer, effectively replacing both of the rigs beds in order to save on gas. Surprisingly that alone had proven to create more problems then you could wave a stick at. The trailers wiring did not comply with the wiring in "lil miss", and as such I soon discovered that when ever signaling to turn, the lights on the trailer would signal the opposite direction. Equally, while "lil miss" had a trailer brake system, it was, well, extremely aggressive. What I mean by aggressive, is it was near impossible to stop the combination, without locking up the trailer brakes. Try to imagine if you will, me, driving down some busy main street in the middle of rush hour traffic, somewhere in a Southern Idaho town, screeching to a halt at every stop light. It did for the lack of a better phrase, turn some

how to clean up my credit myself
Related topics:
how to clean a house like a maid
the cleaning fairy
picture of cleaning lady
how to clean a car radiator
crystal cleaning services
how to clean sea glass
professional kitchen cleaning
Comments