Understaffed!

Last week a lady friend of mine asked me if I knew where the DMV was. Boy, do I ever know where it is! After almost 40 years in the automobile business, that's one location that is drilled into my head. She told me that she needed to get her driver's license changed to reflect her new address. I did too, so I told her that I needed to get the same thing accomplished and if she wanted to wait until this week, I'd go with her.

So Thursday we headed to Paradise Lane, just east of Scottsdale Road and pulled into the old DMV. I felt like it was home. Normally I'd go to the back, where the dealer section is housed, but being a plebeian (commoner) now, I felt obligated to get in line with all of the other sheep. Abbey followed me. My goal was to get my 2 titles transferred from my dealership name to my private name, something that I knew was necessary. In spite of the fact that I renewed my license this year, I was in the hospital when the bond was to be replaced and I never got the notice and even though I've not been notified that I was in arrears, I knew it was the case. In addition to that, Paul, my landlord at the lot told me to get my license off his property if I wasn't going to pay rent and I wasn't! I really stopped operating as a dealer several years ago, but I've been reluctant to turn in my license because they're so hard to get now.

Back to the DMV: I was issued a number and told to have a seat and wait for them to call me. The place was literally mobbed and "people watching" was the game of choice. I literally saw the fat, the skinny and the good the bad and the ugly in my 2 1/2 hour wait. Suddenly, the computerized voice announce my number and for me to go to window 16. I ran to it thinking they'd skip me if I didn't get there promptly. There sat my plump clerk, with a fake smile and the look that told me she hated her job. Oh joy!

She began our acquaintance by telling how understaffed and overworked she is and no one seems to appreciate it. I nodded trying to display sympathy, but was really thinking how lucky she was to be working. I explained that I was a dealer and have spent quite a few hours right here in the dealer section over the years and my goal was to title my two personal vehicles in my private name. She took my paperwork. First she pointed out that my Volvo convertible title requires two signatures from the original owners and they are not both present. The owners chose to require it that way for some reason. In all the years I'd been doing this, I'd never seen that prior. So I needed to back to Peoria Kia, where it was traded in about 2 years ago and try to track down the wife of a Mr. Campanella (oh joy). So that car was off the board for titling today. Next she looked at the title of my 85 Corvette which was one of the old non-conforming titles from Arizona, because it was a one owner with only 43000 miles. 

I explained that I'm both the seller and buyer. She said, I needed a bill of sale saying how much I was selling it to myself for and just looked at me. I told her there was no money changing hands, I'm just giving it to myself! She said I needed to pay sales tax and I asked what price I'd be paying sales tax on if there was no money involved. She excused herself and went to her supervisor. After 10 minutes and she came back smelling like smoke, she said she was right, I needed a Bill of Sale from me to me showing sales tax. How absurd, I thought. I asked her for a Bill of Sale, I can fill it out right here. They don't supply them was her answer. Frankly, in all the years that I've been getting cars registered for my customers, who were total strangers, no one has ever requested a Bill of Sale.

She handed me back the paperwork but not the 2 1/2 hours wasted there. I told her that I waited for 2 1/2 hours and I'm back at step one. She told me to ask for a supervisor next time and maybe she'll feel sorry for me?

I went home and gave up for Thursday, I was totally disgusted with the results. Yesterday, Friday, I called what was referred to as the dealer section on the Internet and was told there was a 30 minute wait on hold. The gentleman who answered the phone call asked what it was about. I tried to briefly explain. He then told me if I had waited the 30 minutes, it was information on how to become a dealer, they would not be able to help me with my problem. I told him that I didn't know what price to pay sales tax on, since I wasn't charging myself any money for the purchase of my car to myself. He said hold. I hold 10 more minutes while he checked with his supervisor. I really felt like I was getting somewhere now. He came back to the phone and told me that I would be required to pay tax on the nada price. I said that's pronounced N.A.D.A. and he didn't want to hear it. When he said it was listed in the nada book, I suspected he didn't know his ass form a hole in the ground (excuse me). I was right. He then told me he looked it up and it was $16050 and that is the original list price of the car and of course I knew he was wrong. Then he told me that since I didn't have a price to charge myself, I should pay tax on that amount, $16,050. I told him that I didn't mean to be rude, but what he's telling me is just ridiculous. That's when he said, "then why are you asking me, I just work a switch board at a phone center"? What is wrong with this state's bureaucracy?

Abbey is Pregnant!

I've been living in the valley of the sun for almost 40 years now. Just about that entire time, I've been responsible for the maintenance of one pool or another, with the exception of when I lived with LJ. At that point she took pride in maintaining her own pool, but I feel I was extremely instrumental in showing her how. Where I currently live, the woman that I live with was paying some creep $100 a month to put chemicals in and that mindless job takes about 3 minutes a week. I made the mistake of telling her that I could do that job and save her the money. She never told me she fired the service, instead we just watched the pool turn green. Naturally I inquired and she reiterated that she fired them about 10 days prior. Liquid chlorine was to be purchased and administered immediately to bring the chlorine levels up to where they needed to be. That was done and the pool turned a beautiful crystal blue color overnight. Everyone was happy. However the pool cleaner took a crap and required a guy named Charlie to come to get it going again. Charlie also owned the pool service she had used. When he came, he did the job and left and never told anyone what was wrong, but it was fixed. I think he sabotaged the Barracuda, but that's just me. I asked her to find out what Charlie did to get it running, but that never happened. 

Now I'm using the old outdated chlorine that was already in the garage and for some reason the pool, even though the chlorine levels are high enough, has turned green again. Scratching my head, I went to Home Depot and purchased 6 gallons of liquid chlorine and administered it. I seemed to hear a faint laughter as it didn't do a thing to change the color of the green water and I think the pool was laughing at me, but again, that's just me. 

When the roommate got home, she took one look at the pool and said, "I'll call Charlie" and all that did was piss me off! I almost gagged on my Costco potato salad and demanded a few more days to get this bastard in order. It was agreed upon, because frankly no one really cares but me. Saving a plastic water bottle, I called around to find a place that would analyse my sample of pool water. Finding a place just a few blocks away and in the desert that's amazing, I drove over making sure not drink any of the pool water by mistake. I generally carry around a water bottle when I'm away from home and I could just imagine swallowing some of this sludge. 

When I arrived at the pool place, it had it's usual assortment of employees smoking in front of the place, that seemed to be on break. I waited my turn and was finally waited on by a guy that looked like he'd been dragged in by the cat, an expression my mother used to use. I had no idea the testing system had become so sophisticated. He carefully poured my sample into a beaker for analysis and a bunch of lights and bells flashed and rang when finally a computer sheet rolled out of the top and he tore it off, like one of the old fax machines. The dirty tech then put on his glasses and read silently to himself making hmmm........... noises.

He took off his glasses and said to me, "I have some bad news. Someone has been urinating in your pool!" WHAT, I asked. Completely shocked and appalled. There is a guest house attached to the 7 car garage and it was recently rented by a young woman named Abbey. Abbey is a quiet girl and was very timid to say the least. I slowly got to know her a little while grilling burgers, I'd offer her one occasionally. She'd quietly smile and say, thank you and that was about the extent of our communication. Lately, a young man has been coming by and I noticed that one morning his car was still parked by her door.

Getting back to my water analysis, the grubby guy said, "Not only is  it a female urinating in your pool, but she's about 6 weeks pregnant"! I couldn't believe that he was able to determine all of this from a water sample. Another thing that was pretty relevant was the PH level was way off needing additional acid. With the acid level that low, the chlorine was not allowed to work it's magic and if I can only bring up the PH level, my pool will clear up.

Now my question is, should I tell Abbey to stop peeing in the pool and let her know that she's pregnant, or just let nature take it's course?

Online Dating is NOT for Amateurs...

This is a series of 3 emails that I wrote to a perspective "date", that removed her picture from the service but left it there for what they call private viewing. In other words, she could send it if she felt you worthy? I was not worthy! Her picture was posted early on, but as I said, she removed it.

 It seems that perhaps I did not move quickly enough. I recall making you a "favorite" as I was tired at the moment and didn't think writing an email would make much sense then. Now you seem to be gone. If you receive this and have the desire to return my attempt, it might be nice. Until then....

 Dutch 

 A couple of days went by and I didn't hear from her, so I tried this: 

 Well, I'm not sure what's going on, but I can't seem to stop thinking about your eyes! Then I get hungry and can't stop thinking about getting something to eat, but I go right back to thinking about your eyes. I've also been thinking about the upcoming election a lot, plus your eyes, of course. Earlier I was watching the news when I wasn't thinking about those eyes and some poor jerk drove into the water and had to be rescued. Then it was right back to those eyes. Without your face, my "favorites" section looks like a waiting room at an old peoples home. We sure miss you there. I know, you're worried about our height difference. Well, the truth be told, I used to be 6' 1" but actually shrunk a little, down to a true 5' 11 3/4. My first wife was 5' 1 1/2" and the only problem we had was slow dancing, her nose wound up in my arm pit. Otherwise we were good until she moved out! To enhance this email, I enclosed a picture of a total stranger that does NOT look like me, but I thought it might put a smile on your face. Did it work? I hope you're having a great weekend and I'll just go back to thinking about your eyes... 

Mel

Now the weekend has passed and no reply from LaVonne. (What kind of a name is LaVonne, anyway???

Well LaVonne: 

 It appears that the weekend has passed and you are either very occupied or are not interested in writing me back. I'll assume it to be the latter. As my memories of your eyes fade, I seem to see something that I really hadn't noticed prior. The right one has a strange look to it and seems to be a lazy eye or sleepy eye, I think they call it. Looking at you head on, I now notice that your pupils rest in the lower portion of the socket and towards the nose, if you will? Kind of a cross-eyed look that I didn't realize before. I'm actually quite surprised that you haven't had that repaired surgically. Upon really giving it some thought, I'd don't think I'm interested in communicating after all. Not with those crossed, sleepy eyes. Another word that I might add to your short stature, is dumpy. The real reason that I divorced my first wife was not really because she was compromised in any way other than the fact that she was always in a bad mood from the pain she suffered in her buttocks. It seemed that every time she stepped off a curb, she bumped her ass! Good luck! 

 Dutch...

A Donkey is NOT a Race Horse!

                                          This is what I ordered.

                                           This is what I got!

Let me begin this post with letting you know that currently I'm no bargain. I'm 66 years old, have shrunk, lost weight due to health issues and have been single without the regular company of a woman for 10 years. I feel that I may be a tad biased in my opinions, but that's okay, I accept that. Let's face it, I have no choice. Yet I continue to think that somewhere out there in "dating-land" there is a woman for me. I'm a less than active member of Match.com and Plenty of Fish, but when Match expires my membership, I'm not renewing. Plenty of Fish is free, so who really cares?

Last night I met a woman for a date from POF. I feel comfortable posting her picture because very few people read this rag anyway. For me, this is just a way to get this stuff off my chest. Therapeutic, if you will?

Her name was Sue and she was of Jewish descent and from Queens, New York, but assured me she had lost her NY accent long ago and she had. She was short, 5 feet tall, according to her statistics online and a dog trainer, owning 5 dogs of her own. Already we had tons in common aside from our heights. For the majority of my adult life I was 6' 1" and recently hopped onto the scale the doctor's office and measured myself while waiting for him and learned I'd lost 1 1/4 inch. (Thank goodness it was only in my height!) So already I'm about a foot taller than her. My first wife was about 5' 1" tall and the only problem we ever had was while slow dancing, her nose wound up in my armpit! Moving forward....

So Sue was full of life and funny and kept up with me pretty good. She was aggressive and finally blurted out, "You taking me out for Chinese food tonight or what"? My mind went instantly to my stomach and then to House Special Chicken that I have been forbidden to eat due to it's sodium content. Throwing caution to the wind, I made a date with this short beauty to meet me at my favorite Chinese Restaurant, China Village at 27th Street and Indian School Road. That was far for both of us, but she was willing to go anywhere for Chinese food (I guess). We agreed to meet there at 7 PM and she would be driving a blue Thunderbird convertible (Wow).

As I pulled into the restaurant, right on time, the spot next to the blue T-Bird was open and I slid in there. She was just getting out of her car and I think she had a booster seat. This woman was not 5 feet, but more like about 4' 8" and her arms and legs seemed a little short for the rest of her. She was wearing dark glasses in spite of the fact that it was almost dark. She ignored me as we walked in, so I said something to her and sure enough, she took off the glasses and I about fell down. This is going to sound cruel, but if you've been doing something for as long as I have and continually get disappointed, you'll understand. I felt like I had ordered a mail order race horse and they sent me a donkey!

She was certainly nice enough and I didn't mention my disappointment or her height. We ordered dinner and she literally ate one bite and quit. There sat $13 worth of Cashew Chicken getting cold and growing a skin on the gravy portion. I ate my house special chicken, knowing my blood pressure would sky rocket and not because of her!

We walked out of the restaurant and she wouldn't approach her car door and that confused me. Did she think I wanted to kiss her? I didn't! I walked to the front of her car and I put out my hand and said goodnight, shaking her hand. She hopped into her car and immediately put her top down and yelled, "You gonna put yours down too"? I opened my window and yelled, "No, too hot". She drove up the 51 North, the same direction as me. I purposely stayed back a few car lengths, as I didn't want to see if she drove with a child's booster seat!

Just so I don't seem insane to you. She didn't post the second picture until AFTER our date.

It's Finally Effin Gone!

It seems to me that I've been selling one thing or another, all of my life. Dealing with people was what I wanted to do, ever since school. I guess by now I'm getting pretty good with it, but let's face it, my selling life is almost over. My latest endeavor was to sell my old Blackberry. I tried eBay and was horribly disappointed. E-Bay is host and hostess to every schemer, crook and con man in the entire world and I think at one time or another I spoke with all of them! I posted my beloved Blackberry four different times and the first three times my buyer was excommunicated from the selling block at eBay, due to my reporting them as non-payers. Finally, this week my Blackberry never even got a bid, showing me all the crooks were gone!

A couple of days ago, I placed an ad on Craig's List and got some young girl texting me, asking, "U got BB's? Wat kind? Rather than trying to explain everything through texting to this texting expert, I called the number it came from. She answered and I told her my entire story. How I upgraded after just getting the Blackberry and it was truly in new condition and only $175. After listening to everything I said, she replied, "I only got a hundred". I asked her if her father would loan her $75 and she didn't know. We hung up and the following day, I get a text that said, "U got BB's? I replied, "We did this last night"! She said, "I 4got".

This evening, at about 6 PM, I got another text from a different phone number asking about my Blackberry. "Still got the BB"?
Me: Yes.
Him: Any dents or scratches and what's your last price?
Me: No dents or scratches and the price is firm. I waited, but no reply after 5 minutes.
I figured, what the hell, I'll play with him.
Me (again): Were you looking for one with dents and scratches?
Him (5 minutes later) No.
Me: What price did you want to pay?
Him: $125
Me: How about we split it in the middle at $150 and if you will call me, I'll guarantee the phone to be perfect. Ten seconds later my phone rang. My point is, the hardest way in the world to sell anything is to do it while texting. You cannot look into their eyes and use intimidation. It puts the buyer on an even level with an experienced seller, truly.

Suddenly the young man was in charge. I suggested we meet up tomorrow and make our deal, but he wanted it tonight! I explained that only cash will be accepted and he said he needed time to go to the bank. He lived in Tempe and wanted me to meet him there, but I've been here too long to go for that. That was 30 minutes from me and 5 minutes from him. We agreed upon Indian School and the 101, at the Shell station. Twenty minutes from then, about 6:30. 

I sprayed some Plaster of Paris on my hair and was about to head out, when I realized I was meeting a total stranger from Craig's List with nothing but my beloved Blackberry. What if he hit me over the head and stole it? So I went for my pistol and put it into my side pocket of my shorts, recalling the concealed weapon law they passed here in AZ. Suddenly, I realized I was putting myself in a life or death choice by carrying a gun over a $150 item and put it back in the dresser and left. Up to this point, I had only dealt with crooks, why should this go any differently and was expecting the worst? He told me he would be driving an 05 Camry, so when I arrived at our destination I called him and assured me he would be there in 3 minutes and was. In pulls a dirty, dark gray Camry, all dented up and my worries began. He waved after pulling in right next to me and I waved back and got out. He was a black man, about 24 years old and stood less than 5 feet tall. I already knew he had a small accent, so I decided he was a Pigmy. The transaction could not have gone smoother. He handed me the cash and I gave him the box containing the phone. He opened it and was pleased. He said, "When I saw your ad explaining that you were a retired gentleman selling your phone, I knew it would be in great shape, because old people really take care of their shit!" I smiled and left. Done deal!