But first, a recap, part deux (or, how I gained a new appreciation of my college landlord)

So, I started 2006 feeling pretty good about my decision to enter into the real estate market. I received an incredible tax refund in February, and that was just with one place for five months! Gotta love those fully deductible interest-only mortgage payments. To be honest, I still feel like it was a good investment decision, despite a bit of bad luck. Having said that, however, the bad luck was pretty bad...

March 2006: After another housing search, and following some intense negotiating with the seller, I close on my second investment property. I end up getting the house for less than the seller was asking, and was still able to get the seller to pay all closing costs. How did this happen (especially after my experience in the earlier bidding war)?? Two words - cooling market. After our initial bid was rejected by the seller, she held an open house. A day after the open house, she accepted my offer. This, of course, did not set off any warning lights, and I celebrated my good luck. I spent most of March looking for tenants and upgrading the appliances in the kitchen.

April 2006: I finally get all three rooms rented out in the new property. Two of the tenants are pretty much model tenants, who fit the ideal characteristics - mid/late 20's, clean, non-smokers, steady jobs. Then there was Hillary (note: not her real name).

Hillary marked the beginning of what was a difficult real estate/landlording year. In my hurry to fill the third and final room in the property, I pretty much let in the first person who agreed to the place. Hillary was in her mid/late 40's, a smoker, without a steady job, and, oh yea....a psychotic raging alcoholic. One story perfectly sums up the nightmare that was Hillary (for me and my other tenants): The guy who was living in the second bedroom (we'll call him George) had come back to the house with his girlfriend, and they were downstairs in the living room watching TV. Suddenly, upstairs, they hear Hillary screaming and stomping around. Somewhat distressed by this (at this point, they were on to Hillary's personality), George and his girlfriend retreated to his bedroom (which was actually closer to Hillary's room, so I'm not sure it was much of a retreat). At this point they start hearing Hillary screaming again - "The power of Jesus Christ compels you, the power of Jesus Christ compels you!!" As the two huddled, confused, in George's room, Hillary stomped down the stairs, and began screaming outside his door. Then, George's door opened.

"Oh, hello George, how are you doing?" Hillary calmly and politely asked, AS IF NOTHING HAD HAPPENED.

Needless to say, Hillary's stint in my place lasted about a month, after which a slew of other tenants have come and gone from that room. I think that room might be cursed, as a matter of fact. But, the lesson here is, BE SELECTIVE with tenants. Credit check at least. If she shows up smelling of booze, DON'T RENT HER THE ROOM.

God, I'm such an idiot sometimes.

Meanwhile, at the other property....
I had decided, upon advice from my realtor (helpful guy, he says sarcastically), that I should try to sell the place to another investor. He brought a few people by, but none seemed interested, at least not at the price we were advertising it at. Why??

Possibly because of the dog and cat shit that littered the carpets. Or maybe because of the smell that came with dog and cat shit littering the carpets. Hmm...we may never unravel that mystery.

My relationship with the tenants in that place began deteriorating rather quickly after those fiascos, and I vowed to sell the place as soon as my girlfriend and I returned from a previously planned vacation in Greece (side note: If there is a more spectacular locale than the volcanic island of Santorini, I sure as hell haven't found it.)

I giddily typed up their 30 day notices, set them aside, and had an incredible time in Greece. Excellent food.

I came back home at the end of May 2006 feeling relaxed, confident, and anxious to sell the place. I knew I was going to have to spend a good deal of time, money, and effort rehabilitating the house after the zoo left, but I even looked forward to that. I handed the tenants their 30-day notices on June 1, and slept great that night. In fact, I felt better than I had in a while...until the freak storm hit...

TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART THREE (TROIX?)...

The Icarus Kids

So, I just got back from the Wizards/Bulls game (Wiz 113, Bulls 103), and I'm pretty flabergasted at the state of our nation's underage drinkers. I was definitely sitting in cheap enough seats that, in theory, it could get working-class rough at any time, but this was ridiculous. We were barely into the first quarter, and this faux-thuggish kid in front of me (18 at the oldest), and his six faux-thuggish friends were in rare form. Someone clearly had a fake ID, and based on their extremely loud claims, they were pretty stoned as well. I really didn't have a problem with that per se, but the dude in front of me ("Naughty by Nature" we'll call him) stood up and pumped his fist after EVERY WIZARDS MADE SHOT. Now, I'm a fairly big Wiz fan personally, and I happen to think Gilbert Arenas might be the best player in the NBA from the beginning to the end of games (yes, better than LeBron, who can't finish, and better than D-Wade, who's injured too often). However, I think there is a such thing as overdoing it. Naughty was overdoing it. So, in that he was blocking not only my view, but also my girlfriend (Disgruntled Gal - yes I'm stealing blatantly from the Sports Guy), I decided after the 20th time that I should say something to him. Needless to say, he didn't take the suggestion to only stand up after dunks or a great shot very well. He, and his nerdish cohort next to him started talking trash, until we finally got him to sit down. He stood up again after the next shot (clearly trying to establish himself), so I intimated that perhaps I should pour my beer on his head. He tried to pick a fight, yet again (me being a row above him, not only did I have age and weight on my side, but also leverage - are kids today learning basic physics??). Disgruntled Gal tried to calm the situation, leading Naughty to remark (and I quote):

"Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch!"

Now, I may be many things, but a short-fused man is not one of them. I try to handle situations as calmly and logically as possible. But, one thing you do NOT do is disrespect the Disgruntled Gal. I gave Naughty a shove, and dared him to respond. His friends rightfully got Naughty to sit down, and apologized for him. Later, Naughty and the Nerd tried to pick a fight with a Bulls fan below them, and the whole group got kicked out and/or arrested.

Now, setting aside the fact that this was clearly the most entertaining game I had ever been to (Wizards win, near-fight, cops getting surly), I grew quite downtrodden (maybe even...disgruntled) at the state of underage drinkers these days. When my friends and I drank underage in high school, we did it incognito (or at parties that were quickly busted by the cops), and, more importantly DID NOT DRAW UNWANTED ATTENTION TO OURSELVES. These kids could have CLEARLY gotten away with drinking at this game, but flew too close to the sun and now are probably spending the night in jail. Flew too close to the sun.

On a side note, Gil only scored 20, but 6 Wizards scored in double-figures. Still didn't play any D, but it's good to see that Hibachi doesn't have to score 60 for the Wiz to win. The question remains, can they get past the Heat or the Cavs in the playoffs??

What do you think, Gil??

But first...a recap (part 1)

Just to get the blog up to speed, here's a brief timeline of relevant events in the year and a half long real estate investing experiment (I'll go into some of these into greater detail in future posts):

Summer 2005: Cubicle-mate points out our office's resident realtor, says he's made millions in real estate investing [then why in the hell is he working here, I wonder...], and has a huge house and three cars (two Jags!). I go, "Hmm, you know, I've always wanted to get into real estate investing, but have no money at all, oh well..." Cubicle-mate takes this as a sign he needs to set up a meeting with me and said realtor. Meeting goes down, realtor/co-worker explains how if my credit is alright, I can buy a house with no money down (getting the seller to pay all closing costs) and would qualify for a 100% financed, interest-only loan. At this time, you may recall (dear reader), the U.S. real estate market was absolutely insane, but people thought it would continue to rise.

Meanwhile, in a secret underground lair, Alan "Cobra Commander" Greenspan cackled with glee at his evil thoughts...

August 2005: After a whirlwind housing market search with my realtor/co-worker, I settle on a three-level, three-bedroom townhouse with a rooftop deck in the Arlington (VA) area. The seller has it listed for $409,000. I get into somewhat of a bidding war with a kindly old Asian gentleman (NOTE: MISTAKE/LESSON #1 - DON'T GET INTO A BIDDING WAR WHEN REAL ESTATE INVESTING). We artificially inflated the price to $444,900, with the difference between the $420,000 winning bid representing the money back I would be getting from the seller, for closing costs and for blow, hookers, and an XBox (just kidding, I'm a Nintendo man). Closing day comes and goes, and I officially become a real estate investor. Hot Damn! I take my new house keys over to the place, and, in what would be a harbinger of things to come, notice that the air conditioner has broken.

September 2005 (Don't worry, I'm not going month by month here): As Alan Greenspan laughs maniacally and raises rates (I blame the blow and hookers), I begin my search for tenants. Having zero experience in this realm, I turn to Craigslist, and eventually find three willing subjects. They each rent a room in the place, for varying rents depending on their rooms. None of the three know each other, but are perfectly willing to throw caution to the wind and move in together, without meeting at all. Who knew people did this?? Not me. Anyway, two of them have pets (one girl had a dog and a cat, and the other girl had a kitten), so I charge them a pet deposit, and think little of it.

October - December 2005: The tenants are paying everything on time, and, aside from the A/C, little to no maintenance is needed. Greenie raises the rates again, but, hell, they're still low. Real estate investing is easy!!!

Christmas-ish 2005: So easy, in fact, and so potentially profitable (according to my realtor, the price of comparable houses in my zip code (or, "comps") had gone up significantly, meaning my house was now worth $465,000, at least! I decide I need to ring in 2006 with a new house (or two or three). I mean, if it doesn't cost anything. I also start telling everybody about my newfound money making scheme, trying to recruit others into my little game (much like how a heroin addict will try to bring others into their addiction - I'm looking your way Pete Doherty!) Oh, anyway MISTAKE/LESSON #2 - KEEP YOUR DUMB-ASS SCHEMES TO YOURSELF, THIS WAY YOUR SUCCESSES SEEM GREATER AND YOUR FAILURES ARE LESS PUBLIC.

To be continued in part II, in which our hero discovers a foppish bit of flim-flammery and has an epic showdown with Baron von Greenspan...

Enter Blogman...

Most everyone has noticed the ad, usually on the back page of a mid-week newspaper. A guy in glasses and a plaid button-down shirt, giving the thumbs-up (he's the "everyman," you see), and below him is the story about how his real estate investing shit doesn't stink. Smells, in fact, like roses...and money. To prove how great he and his methods of no-fail real estate investing are, he offers this proof:

"Woweee!! I challenged the Moscow Polonium Times Daily to push me out of an airplane, without a parachute, with no money, or clothes, and the first house I landed on I'd buy and make millions on! I landed on 123 Myballsitch Drive, kicked the family living there out, bought the house for $0, and sold it for one jillion dollars, all with [wait for it...] NO MONEY DOWN!!!"

And then, the kicker:

"And you can too!!!"

I've been challenging the Disgruntled family mantra ("The Disgruntleds will never make money the easy way, they'll always have to work for it") for years, with zero success. However, I am both stubborn and an idiot, so when a coworker of mine introduced to me the idea of real estate investing (specifically "flipping"), I decided to give it a whirl. After all, he (a realtor on the side who had become quite wealthy doing this) promised that I could do this with no money down (in fact I'd get money back), would be easily approved for a 100% financed, interest-only loan (at the time, I had pretty good credit), and would never even really have to make any mortgage payments since I'd have tenants in the property paying it for me. Fucking A, right?

A year and a half, and two houses, and one housing market "downturn" (aka "market correction," aka "soft-landing," aka "crash"), here I am, barely afloat (the tenants aren't exactly covering the mortgage payment...or even coming that close - thanks to the suddenly supply-heavy rental market), with enormous potentially profitable assets, waiting it all out. This is my story...this is my blog. This is how one guy tragically and hilariously (well, not to me) got a bit in over his head, but godammit decided to stick it out (and is still doing so). I'll be posting bits of this story as the day/week/month goes on. Feel free to commiserate with me.