It's official. The cat, Cleo, is now the only one in the house who'll eat Tofutti (tm).

Zulu turned her nose up at it yesterday and she will not go back to it as the treat that hides the pills.

That Tofutti is good until Oct. 2005!

Gotta be something wrong with that.

Let's see, let's see, the last hour has been amusement for Loki, to be sure.

My leetle 17" monitor seems to not want to work anymore (is hooked up to the laptop), so I finally got the gumption to get the gi-normous 20" monitor from the garage and set it up. Why not? Well, because it is heavy as hell, is why not.

This I discovered while attempting to haul it, making many stoppages on the path from garage to office. Finally got it on the desk, only to discover that in my absence, the cat had barfed on all the connections coming from the laptop, including the piece d' resistance, the adaptor that allows the pc monitor to work with the mac laptop. She barfed *in* it. Talent to be sure.

And of course, not contained to the desk, but dripping off the desk, was the food and liquid formerly contained in her tummy. All. Over. The. Wires. On. The. Floor. Yep. And, in the hardest to reach spot, of course, one that requires me to lie on a shelf and turn my body left to reach behind the desk and mop up. I'm sure quite a sight to see, if anyone else but the animals were here to watch.

A depressed me might have actually left the crap on the floor to dry : thank god I'm not depressed. EW.

So, after the cleaning frenzy, I lugged the monitor to it's proper place and plugged the kit and kaboodle in, and "bzzzzzz." Monitor no worky. Same as the other! Shite.

So, there is no prob with the other 17" -- it must be the adaptor, or perhaps the power cord, because I used the same one. Geez. Well, not to be crushed by simple technology and Mercury Retrograde, I rebooted, twice.

Second reboot, SUCCESS!

Yippeee! Big, HUGE monitor faces me and makes me no longer slouch forward, trying to read things. And, now I can feel good about selling the other monitor in the garage sale we'll be having, because contrary to popular opinion, it *does* work.

And, on another bright note, while I was outside, futzing in the garage trying to find said 20", I ran into a neighbor I've wanted to get to know better, and we made a breakfast date for tomorrow. Huzzah!

I am now very much loving Rosie O'Donnell's blog.

Please to be finding it here.

Warning: the entry titled "Cruisie" could make you weep openly, as I did while reading it to mah man.

That is all.

I am yarn obsessed. Really and truly. It seems it is quite common.

As much as I love to crochet, and create gifties for others, a huge part of it is shopping, touching and working with new, beautimous yarn.

Oh! The delight! The texture! The color! The utter yarnyness of it all!

It is not a habit. It is not a hobby.

Oh sweet jesuchristo. I just discovered an LJ crochet community. I'm sunk, it seems.

It may be reaching over into the realms of illness.

But frankly, my dear Scarlett, I don't give a damn.

Bring on the yarn!

Fred Holbert, Evil Shyster Car-Hauler, Redux

So, I was up in the middle of the night last night, unable to sleep and began to think about what I am going to do about this idiot, lying, no-good shyster.

To update: I left messages on both his cell phones telling him that since he had dropped off the face of the earth, not following through on *any* of his many promises to call and/or show up and take the car over a three-week period, the deal was off. I advised him that he should return my money within one week, money order or bank check, or I'd contact the authorities.

Instead of the check, I received a postcard (Chicago skyline) postmarked in Des Moines, Iowa on March 12. It reads:

"I finally arrived here on Tues 3/8/05 only to find your cancellation message! What a foolish waste of $300! My expenses to this point exceed $400!" Thanks for nothing! Fred"

Of all the freakin' nerve. Would any right-minded citizen give their valuable car to a person such as this?

Ahem. Okay, fuckwad. Let's take a look at the promises (lies) you made:

1. Will send a contract and receipt of payment. Nope.
2. Was supposed to pick up car on Feb. 22. Nope.
3. Was supposed to call, then pick up car on Feb 26 or 27. No call, no pickup
4. Is broken down somewheres (to my in-laws it was Indiana, to me it was Ohio) and Promised to call on March 3. Nope.
5. Gets ahold of in-laws, and promises that he will call March 4, to pick up Sat. March 5, or call on Sat. to pick up on March 6. Absofuckinlutely certain this time. No word. No return of calls. No nothing. For all I know, Fred is dead.

I cancelled the service on March 8, and requested the money back then.

Sooooooo. I need to figure out:

1) if there is any way to get my money back
2) how I can track down his info (he lives in arizona) and possibly take him to small claims court
3) where I should post this story, so that he never gets work on the web again.

My cousin, the cop, basically recommended that I smear him online and do the small claims court thing. Also, I'll contact the Arizone Better Business Bureau to see if I can file a claim there.

Any other suggestions, help, info, experience in this sort of thing would be so very, very appreciated.

I am the List Mistress, keeper of the lists. Today's list has all to do with tomorrow's journey to Cincinnati, OH. Just a jaunt there for the hell of it, joining N on his biz trip.

Will see museums and visit some acquaintances/friends from when N lived there.

Things done:

1. Print out of house/pet directions for Sam
2. Camera
3. Dep. check, get cash
4. Buy enzymes, unclog drain
5. Airport directions/parking lot c
6. Empty trash

Still to do:

1. Water plants
2. Balance chkbk
3. Gather computer stuff
4. Finish packing

I swear to the gods above, I have no idea how other people function without writing lists. I'd never go anywhere or do anything without a piece of paper to track my brain's quasi-functioning on paper.

I am satisfied that I have accomplished enough on said list this evening and now, I shall fall into bed, exhausted and content.

Sweet dreams.

I spoke with my friend Kathy last night and she noted thusly:

"You remember when you were so depressed about everything, and now you have lots of bad things going on in your life and you're not depressed *at all*! Isn't that funny?"

Yep, isn't it?

This is The Tale of Fred Holbert, the Car Hauler.

May he feel the shame he should.

I found Fred through my cousin Michael, who is a classic car enthusiast, and knows all the message boards where you can find a good person to haul a non-working '57 Chevy across the country, from Elgin, IL to San Diego, CA. Which, is exactly what I needed.

N and I gifted my dad with N's '57, currently residing in N's parents' garage, for Christmas. Now to get it to its new home.

We had no need to rush it across country, so could wheel and deal, and was able to settle on a good price with Fred. I told him not to accept the price if it was going to be an issue for him, we'd just wait for someone who could be okay with it. $700 -- he took it, because he had a pick up in the town where my folks live and it would be very convenient.

I put $300 down in his SwiftPay account, he would mail me a receipt. Discussed all the details and when he'd set out, and got an estimate of when he'd arrive in Elgin, barring horrible weather. He was supposed to arrive two weeks ago today. And, of course, you know he didn't. That was February 22.

I wasn't too worried, but by Thursday, knowing he'd probably hit snow storms, I wanted to get an update for my in-laws who were literally waiting by the phone. I believe he'd gotten ahold of them by then, said he'd had car trouble, was in Indiana and was in a storm, but should be there by the weekend. Saturday, for sure. Late Saturday, he called and said Sunday, for sure, many apologies.

Okay, I'm now pissed and wary.

Sunday comes and goes...no phone call. I leave a message, my mom-in-law leaves a message, nada. I rinse and repeat on Monday. Tuesday, I leave a threatening message saying he's leaving me no recourse but to contact the authorities because I'm thinking he's a shyster, and request again a call back.

Wednesday he calls, says he's stuck in a snow storm, still hasn't received the part (heater fan) so he can drive, but luckily, the cab of his truck is warm and he's safe in a good truck stop. Like I give a rat's ass. I have a long chat with him about how important communication is, and how I cannot trust him to pick up and haul anything if he doesn't let us know what's up. Tell him I'm feeling very suspicious and not sure about this deal at all. He's all apologies and excuses -- his TWO cell phones weren't working where he was, he had to borrow one from another trucker, he's in Ohio now (?) blah blah. He reassures me a bit (now, I'm just thinking he's a Schleprock and a bit of an Eeyore) and he thinks he'll get the part the next day, and promises to call.

This is March 2. He doesn't call me the next day, of course, but calls my in-laws, which is fine. They let us know that he will be there to pick up the car either Saturday or Sunday, and he PROMISES to call the night before to set up the time.

What do you think happens, kids? That's right, all together... "HE DOESN'T CALLLLLLL!"

So, I call Sunday, Monday and the kicker is today. I am done. DONE!

I have emailed my cousin who is a cop and sent him all of Fred's info. We'll see what he can tell me about the man, and if I have any recourse.

I've also emailed Mike and told him to let loose on the message board. Contact the owner and let him know that this guy is a no-goodnik flake stealer-of-my-money. Also, let the other folks on the list to never, ever use him, if indeed he is a real car hauler. In the words of Mortal Kombat.... "FINISH HIM!"

And, I called Fred, left messages on both his phones, informing him that the deal is off, and I want my money back, thank you very much. I gave him a week to send a check or money order, and also told him I'd call the authorities if I didn't have the check by next week. Yeah, like he's going to send it.

I hate this. I hate feeling like I'm being mean, and I hate being fucked over.

I'd really like to post his phone numbers and email address here, but have decided that would create majorly bad karma points for me, far outweighing him stealing $300 from me. *Sigh* I guess just dreaming of it should be satisfaction enough.

I just called a pal in Marin to discuss all this, and she had a good story to trade -- she just got screwed over on ebay, to the tune of $450. Cops are on it, but the total amount of screwage has to hit 35k before they go in -- the scam artists have only collected 28k so far from the innocent ebayers. So, she waits, and hopes to go for the kill.

Why are there scammers like this, and how did they get that way? Stupids.