Let me tell you all about my fun and exciting today yesterday.
I started writing this around midnight and then fell asleep, I was so exhausted with everybody's crap.
Later today at 2:30 p.m., we have court with Andrew, lord of the trailer trash. Our attorney, Mr. Harry Ainsworth, it's already informed him that he's either leaving after signing a release of interest, or leaving after losing the eviction hearing. So we figured we'd go over to his trailer one last time, and drive him over to Taco Bell to get him to sign the paperwork saying he releases his interest in the property. Pretty simple, right? Sign on the dotted line, indicate the dollar amount you want to go away, and we're done.
Problem is, nobody complicates things quite like a simpleton. And nobody is quite so paranoid about being double crossed as a con man. It was long before Andrew was accusing us of planning to trick him into not going to court today, or reinterpreting the contract after he signed it, and I just didn't have the patience to deal with him. Fortunately, my dad didn't suffer from any such disadvantage, and sat there talking to him for the better part of 4 hours. He drew up an agreement, only to have Andrew balk at it, because he said the wording was too vague. I took a look at the contract he had written, and it was damn near illegible, so I redid the entire thing on a piece of notebook paper while Andrew was out smoking a cigarette. Got it done before he could come back in, showed it to Dad, who had a note about paying a moving company. Whatever. He could have just locked everything down in his trailer and enjoyed the free tow truck we had already volunteered to hire. But what do I know? I put it in.
Andrew looked at the contract when he got back and said it looked perfect. Said he'd go ahead and sign it today in court. Dad wanted him to sign it right then and there, and so did I, but he just wouldn't. Started talking about how a handshake should be enough. Well, as far as I'm concerned, a handshake is worth the paper it's written on, so that was a no-go.
And then it was 6 o'clock. Time for my pre-meal insulin and my dinner. Well, dinner was supposed to be spaghetti, with sauce made by yours truly. Obviously, that wasn't freaking happening, because I'd spent the 4 hours it takes to make a decent sauce sitting around at a Taco Bell watching Andrew not sign a damn document. I went to the bathroom to drain the lizard after half a dozen free Baja Blast Zeroes, and Dad and Andrew were talking about a rental contract. I just about hit the ceiling, but I kept it in, and Dad told Andrew to go have a smoke while we talked about it.
I didn't have much to say but nope, so Dad called Mom. She couldn't hear him over the music they were playing, and Captain Speakerphone never thinks to call anybody and not put them on speakerphone. So he stepped outside to talk to her, and I'm sitting with our stuff to make sure nobody just walks in and takes his briefcase. Meanwhile, Andrew was nowhere to be found. Dad came in, said Mom wanted to talk to me. I took the phone outside, and apparently we're going with the rental contract idea, but one thing she told me he was absolutely not to do was to make it a week to week contract. She had some other stipulations as well, but that was the big one.
I got off the phone and went and sat down with Dad. We waited for Andrew to come back in.
And waited.
About ten minutes later, Dad called Andrew, only to find out that Andrew had gotten a ride back up to the property. Said he was tired of sitting around and talking. Well, great. I was ready to go home at that point, but Dad just wouldn't let it go. He said we'd be back at the house after we had something to eat. (Fortunately, even though we left at 2:00, I had brought my Admelog, knowing there was an excellent chance that dinner would be screwed up by all this.
After we ate, we drove back up to meet Andrew, but this time he brought one of his little ghetto buddies. This guy was the same one who gave him a ride back. Nosy little fella, wanted to see the entire contract before Andrew could sign. Kept asking my dad to email him a copy of the contract that he was literally holding in his hand as he filled it out. This was apparently a complex and difficult concept to grasp, and it took me explaining four times that the contract was literally right there for him to examine before he got it.
Dad handed the contract to this rando, and the first thing dude says is, "I notice this contract is week to week, and I'm a little worried you might cancel it from one week to the next." I was furious, because I knew he knew that was the one thing neither of us wanted. Now there were two of us complaining to Dad about the damn contract. Rando starts talking about how they were going to have to have a look at the contract for a while and get back to us.
It was 8:00 by then, and it was getting dark. And who decided to start texting me? Cathy. Wanted to know if I'd heard the M-80 Andrew had just let off. Well, I hadn't, and as I was typing that, he let off another one. She's been complaining about him and his M-80s for a week now, to me and the police and whoever else would listen. And whenever she complained to me, I dutifully let the officer in charge of his guns investigation know that there had been another incident.
So there I was, texting the cop about Andrew and his explosives, and somehow it was just settled that it's now a week to week rental. Fine, whatever. More M-80s, more reports to the cops, and I made the mistake of telling her I could hear them. She figured out I was out front, and started spying on me. Sent me a nasty text accusing us of paying Andrew to leave when we still owe her and Dave money. (That's her big thing whenever we spend money on literally anything, including a remodel necessary to bring in income, is that we must have tons of money to spend on that, but never on her. 🙄) It was at that moment that months and months of verbal abuse finally took their toll, and I snapped. Texted her back to ask her follow-up questions about the crystal ball she was apparently using. Then I told her I was sick of the lies and the BS, and she told me to quit lying and BSing then. I called her something that rhymes with stunt, and asked her if she wanted me to unalive myself so that my parents could use my life insurance money to pay her, since that's all I have. Then I asked her if she'd like me to perform a blood sacrifice right there on her lawn.
Yeah. I think I burned that bridge pretty good. Probably nuked it.
Anyhoozle, Dad and I waited and waited for Andrew and his buddy to decide to sign, and then it was decided that we should go back to Taco Bell to finish signing. Dad and I drove down to Taco Bell, waited for them, and eventually called Andrew. His friend told us that he needed to go visit a hooker because his girlfriend had broken up with him. (Yeah. We were sitting there with contract in hand and our thumbs up our bums, and he's off getting it on with a lady of the evening. Nice. I wanted to say screw it and go home right then and there, but Dad wanted to wait.)
Finally, around 10 o'clock, the little shizz still hadn't shown up, so we told him he had 10 minutes. It was about right, because the Taco Bell lobby closed right after I told him that. He said he'd be there with the signed contract.
10 minutes later, we were leaving, and I texted him to tell him time was up. He texted back, swearing up and down that his friend should have already been there with the signed contract, so I gave him to get another last chance.
10:30 p.m. rolled around. Now I was really mad, because I needed to take my 10 o'clock pills and insulin, and Dad asked me if I had that stuff with me. No, dad, I didn't bring my 10:00 p.m. meds to a meeting we were having at 2:00 p.m., because I didn't expect this guy to waste 8 hours of my life on this.
So we went home. Last I told Andrew he was to email us the copy of the contract, and he never did.
So I guess we're going to trial. Not today, though. I've instructed our attorney to have it set over for a couple of weeks in the hopes that Andrew will be arrested before he has to show up in court.
I didn't tell Andrew that, though. Let's see how he likes his time being wasted.
Later today at 2:30 p.m., we have court with Andrew, lord of the trailer trash. Our attorney, Mr. Harry Ainsworth, it's already informed him that he's either leaving after signing a release of interest, or leaving after losing the eviction hearing. So we figured we'd go over to his trailer one last time, and drive him over to Taco Bell to get him to sign the paperwork saying he releases his interest in the property. Pretty simple, right? Sign on the dotted line, indicate the dollar amount you want to go away, and we're done.
Problem is, nobody complicates things quite like a simpleton. And nobody is quite so paranoid about being double crossed as a con man. It was long before Andrew was accusing us of planning to trick him into not going to court today, or reinterpreting the contract after he signed it, and I just didn't have the patience to deal with him. Fortunately, my dad didn't suffer from any such disadvantage, and sat there talking to him for the better part of 4 hours. He drew up an agreement, only to have Andrew balk at it, because he said the wording was too vague. I took a look at the contract he had written, and it was damn near illegible, so I redid the entire thing on a piece of notebook paper while Andrew was out smoking a cigarette. Got it done before he could come back in, showed it to Dad, who had a note about paying a moving company. Whatever. He could have just locked everything down in his trailer and enjoyed the free tow truck we had already volunteered to hire. But what do I know? I put it in.
Andrew looked at the contract when he got back and said it looked perfect. Said he'd go ahead and sign it today in court. Dad wanted him to sign it right then and there, and so did I, but he just wouldn't. Started talking about how a handshake should be enough. Well, as far as I'm concerned, a handshake is worth the paper it's written on, so that was a no-go.
And then it was 6 o'clock. Time for my pre-meal insulin and my dinner. Well, dinner was supposed to be spaghetti, with sauce made by yours truly. Obviously, that wasn't freaking happening, because I'd spent the 4 hours it takes to make a decent sauce sitting around at a Taco Bell watching Andrew not sign a damn document. I went to the bathroom to drain the lizard after half a dozen free Baja Blast Zeroes, and Dad and Andrew were talking about a rental contract. I just about hit the ceiling, but I kept it in, and Dad told Andrew to go have a smoke while we talked about it.
I didn't have much to say but nope, so Dad called Mom. She couldn't hear him over the music they were playing, and Captain Speakerphone never thinks to call anybody and not put them on speakerphone. So he stepped outside to talk to her, and I'm sitting with our stuff to make sure nobody just walks in and takes his briefcase. Meanwhile, Andrew was nowhere to be found. Dad came in, said Mom wanted to talk to me. I took the phone outside, and apparently we're going with the rental contract idea, but one thing she told me he was absolutely not to do was to make it a week to week contract. She had some other stipulations as well, but that was the big one.
I got off the phone and went and sat down with Dad. We waited for Andrew to come back in.
And waited.
About ten minutes later, Dad called Andrew, only to find out that Andrew had gotten a ride back up to the property. Said he was tired of sitting around and talking. Well, great. I was ready to go home at that point, but Dad just wouldn't let it go. He said we'd be back at the house after we had something to eat. (Fortunately, even though we left at 2:00, I had brought my Admelog, knowing there was an excellent chance that dinner would be screwed up by all this.
After we ate, we drove back up to meet Andrew, but this time he brought one of his little ghetto buddies. This guy was the same one who gave him a ride back. Nosy little fella, wanted to see the entire contract before Andrew could sign. Kept asking my dad to email him a copy of the contract that he was literally holding in his hand as he filled it out. This was apparently a complex and difficult concept to grasp, and it took me explaining four times that the contract was literally right there for him to examine before he got it.
Dad handed the contract to this rando, and the first thing dude says is, "I notice this contract is week to week, and I'm a little worried you might cancel it from one week to the next." I was furious, because I knew he knew that was the one thing neither of us wanted. Now there were two of us complaining to Dad about the damn contract. Rando starts talking about how they were going to have to have a look at the contract for a while and get back to us.
It was 8:00 by then, and it was getting dark. And who decided to start texting me? Cathy. Wanted to know if I'd heard the M-80 Andrew had just let off. Well, I hadn't, and as I was typing that, he let off another one. She's been complaining about him and his M-80s for a week now, to me and the police and whoever else would listen. And whenever she complained to me, I dutifully let the officer in charge of his guns investigation know that there had been another incident.
So there I was, texting the cop about Andrew and his explosives, and somehow it was just settled that it's now a week to week rental. Fine, whatever. More M-80s, more reports to the cops, and I made the mistake of telling her I could hear them. She figured out I was out front, and started spying on me. Sent me a nasty text accusing us of paying Andrew to leave when we still owe her and Dave money. (That's her big thing whenever we spend money on literally anything, including a remodel necessary to bring in income, is that we must have tons of money to spend on that, but never on her. 🙄) It was at that moment that months and months of verbal abuse finally took their toll, and I snapped. Texted her back to ask her follow-up questions about the crystal ball she was apparently using. Then I told her I was sick of the lies and the BS, and she told me to quit lying and BSing then. I called her something that rhymes with stunt, and asked her if she wanted me to unalive myself so that my parents could use my life insurance money to pay her, since that's all I have. Then I asked her if she'd like me to perform a blood sacrifice right there on her lawn.
Yeah. I think I burned that bridge pretty good. Probably nuked it.
Anyhoozle, Dad and I waited and waited for Andrew and his buddy to decide to sign, and then it was decided that we should go back to Taco Bell to finish signing. Dad and I drove down to Taco Bell, waited for them, and eventually called Andrew. His friend told us that he needed to go visit a hooker because his girlfriend had broken up with him. (Yeah. We were sitting there with contract in hand and our thumbs up our bums, and he's off getting it on with a lady of the evening. Nice. I wanted to say screw it and go home right then and there, but Dad wanted to wait.)
Finally, around 10 o'clock, the little shizz still hadn't shown up, so we told him he had 10 minutes. It was about right, because the Taco Bell lobby closed right after I told him that. He said he'd be there with the signed contract.
10 minutes later, we were leaving, and I texted him to tell him time was up. He texted back, swearing up and down that his friend should have already been there with the signed contract, so I gave him to get another last chance.
10:30 p.m. rolled around. Now I was really mad, because I needed to take my 10 o'clock pills and insulin, and Dad asked me if I had that stuff with me. No, dad, I didn't bring my 10:00 p.m. meds to a meeting we were having at 2:00 p.m., because I didn't expect this guy to waste 8 hours of my life on this.
So we went home. Last I told Andrew he was to email us the copy of the contract, and he never did.
So I guess we're going to trial. Not today, though. I've instructed our attorney to have it set over for a couple of weeks in the hopes that Andrew will be arrested before he has to show up in court.
I didn't tell Andrew that, though. Let's see how he likes his time being wasted.
46-50, M