So, I went to sign loan docs yesterday. That's what they call them, by the way, "loan docs". Not "loan documentation". Or "your loan's paperwork". No, it's "loan docs". And they always have that way of saying it off the hip, almost as if it's supposed to be cool.
It's not cool! It's pretty stupid, if you ask me! Now, mind you, I wish in a rush - docs had to get to the bank before the close of the day - so I couldn't pause for an explanation at each sheet. (As far as I know, I signed away my liver.) The "loan doc" lady would say "Disclosure form" and I'd sign it or she'd say "Acknowledgement" and I'd sign it. I signed a variety of papers that she wasn't even sure they were going to use - nice!
Now, I'm not going to get into details because the first part of this story ends with me getting raped anally with a broken, wooden stool. (No, not the leg. The who fucking stool.) The condensed version goes like this:
1. They took too long on the loan. Far too long. Eons too long.
2. I signed a waiver saying I'd take the home if everything went okay with the appraisal and inspection. (This was supposed to move things along faster.)
3. What the waiver really meant was that I was obligated, by law, to buy the house.
4. Back when we thought everything was moving along okay, we gave our notice to our apartment managers. (Actually, this is probably the one time Vicky should have let me vacillate. She really wanted to get the notice put in; I kept waffling. She should have let me waffle!) So, our "get the hell out" date was/is 12/20.
5. So, between the realty agent and the loan person. they stuck me with no financing for a house I was forced to buy and made me homeless. With me so far?
(I really don't think I could have moved in with no financing. I'd probably move into court.)
6. This is when I went to sign the forms. They were wrong. Really wrong. I had two choices: a) homelessness or b) shelter at a high price.
7. I signed.
8. I went to the loan folks and they said, "Hey, you're right! We really screwed you! Have a nice day!"
Now, you'd think the story would end there. But it doesn't. Before I go on, though, two bits of warning. First: Orange County Mortgage - stay the hell away from these people. Second: There's no such thing as a fixed HELOC loan!
And, yes, there's more. Now that I've jumped through so many hoops I feel like a slinky (I've become the hoop!), the seller's agent doesn't want to hand over the property. My agent thinks it's because they're entertaining a second offer. I cried FOUL. "No. Wait. Documents. Legal. Signed. And I got ass raped."
So, they're working on that.
It looks like we might move Saturday. Let's hope it's into that house...