Sunday, October 30, 2011

I hear the secrets that you keep...

Last night, I had one of my more bizarre dreams. I was having quite a day. Things were busy for me. The kids were in school, but required an early pickup. On top of that, I had a wedding cake to bake (?), a dog to train, and a horse to guild. No joke.

I also drove a giant, gunmetal gray, Mercedez van. I... don't know.

I figured out that the only way to retrieve my children early, in the midst of all of this, would be to drive my car up to OHSU, take the tram, transfer to the MAX, and take 2 buses to their school. But I had to be fast, because parking was $5 an hour there. There was a place for me to park it, and a personal vestibule next to each car to place our personal effects, including very important things, like birth certificates. Because we naturally carry all of that stuff on our persons every damn day of the world.

So, I place my things into the vestibule, and wait for the automatic sliding door to close, only it gets hung up on nothing, and won't go anymore. Of course, my time has already started, and I am MAD antsy, because I have a fucking wedding cake, a Great Dane, and the balls of a newly-guilded horse in the back of this thing.

But eventually, it closes. And it takes me 4 hours to retrieve my kids, and return to the van, where naturally the neglected dog has eaten both the wedding cake, and the fresh horse balls.

So... I failed on every task. And I didn't have enough money to pay for the parking. And because of this, I then had to work as a parking attendant to make up for the money that I didn't have. Luckily, this was only an hour, but my kids were not happy with me, and the dog got sick all over the van.

Exhausted, I finally leave the parking garage, deliver sick dog to his owner, and proceed to clean the most disgusting muck from the inside of the vehicle.

Apparently, in the land of reality, and not in the dream, Mr. Hed tried snuggling me in the night, and I had a full conversation with him about all of the happenings of the dream. I do remember telling him things, as well, but he was standing across from me, wearing a Parking Attendant uniform, not snuggled into bed with me. And... I thought he was cute, and that I wouldn't mind having him snuggle me in bed. But he was just a parking attendant, and not my husband.

While sharing the strange conversation with me, he was quite amused. I, on the other hand, am relieved that the dream was silly and not incriminating in any way.


Sunday, October 23, 2011

The crazy-good cocktail that I think I remember making... sort of.

Last night, we had a gathering at our house. It was fun. Not huge, as per usual, but really just the right size, and combination of people for it to be a success, without my feeling like I had to divide my attention all over the house as in years past.

Apparently The Cold Of Doom has come to Portland early, and damn, that thing is a sadistic bitch. I had it last week, which is why I had to reschedule this shindig. So... when people told me of the woes, I said: "Say no more." It's an evil one.


I made my usual spread, but didn't have as much time this week as I have in years past to prepare, so I bought cans of garbanzo beans from Trader Joe's to make my hummus.

And well? Fail.

I should have known when I was prepping the beans to go into the processor that they were not the right consistency. They were way too hard, and basically nullified all the prep that still goes into that.

So... what did I learn there? This: Trader Joe's garbanzo beans. Proof that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Yeah, I will never take that shortcut again. But... you know, at least it wasn't all fails: today, I have quite a hangover. For a... somewhat unusual reason.

See, I don't normally enjoy sweet cocktails, but I decided to get creative. I also have an herb shop next door to my house, so I mosey on over there a lot, peruse the shelves, and dream things up. I had heard the virtues of infused simple syrups extolled a time or two recently, and decided to give that a whirl. The one I really wanted to try, I discovered that I was missing a key component, and was therefore, unable to make it. I had one of my regular kitchen cleanouts last week, and threw out a sizeable container of black peppercorns, without thinking of the fact that I might... want to use those, after all. Sure, they were about a year old, but they may have been OK.

Oh well.

The one I did end up making was pretty good though. I had some dried Jasmine flowers. I love those in tea, or sometimes just by themselves in hot water on a cold day. So, that was what I did!

The first thing I made, was a Jasmine screwdriver. It was fairly tasty, although a bit sweet for my taste. It contained:

2 cups orange juice
1 cup absolut vodka
2 cups soda water
1/2 cup Jasmine syrup.

Not too bad, but yeah, pretty sweet.

The one that I really liked, and seemed to be a big hit with everyone, was also the one that I sort of made up as I went along, while quite tipsy. I was a little worried that it wasn't going to turn out, but well? This was one of those cases in which I became awesome, rather than just... drunk, and made magic happen. I will call it a Jasmine Vodka Rickey.

It contained, and I am guessing at the proportions, since I wuz teh dronk when I made this, but it... sounds right, considering the pitcher I used was a 6-cup pitcher:

1 1/2 cup fresh-squeezed lime juice (Please use this. Don't buy that bottled shit. It's just not as good. I prefer to leave the pulp in this, as well.)
2 cups absolut vodka. (I would have preferred gin, but Mr. Hed wasn't paying attention at the liquor store, and inadvertently picked up 2 bottles of vodka, different brands. Oops!)
2 cups soda water (I used the lime-essence soda water from TJ's.)
1/2 cup Jasmine syrup.

I just made sure everything was well-chilled, poured into a glass pitcher, stirred, and served up.

To make the Jasmine Syrup:

2 cups water
1/2 cup Jasmine flowers
2 cups sugar

Place Jasmine flowers in pan, and cover with water.
Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a slow-simmer.
Simmer for about 10 minutes, then remove from heat, cover, and allow to sit for another 10 minutes.
Strain flowers from water, squeezing them to get all of the goodness out.
Place water back on stove, and add sugar. Return to a low boil, then back down to a simmer, stirring constantly until sugar is dissolved.

Let cool, then refrigerate. This should keep in the fridge for about 2 weeks.

There you go. Now you, too, can be awesome.


Wednesday, October 19, 2011


Fuck. I'm old. I don't know how it happened, but there it is. I am going to hold onto 28 for as long as possible, but in reality? Yeah... I'm not fooling anyone. I am falling down that fucking rabbit hole, in which I am now closer to 40 than 30. Shit. Really?

Unfortunately. Really. Time marches on, friends. Yes, it does.

Here is a little something I wrote when I was 18 on the subject:

Do we
ever really know when the end will come? Life is temporary,
and at any time, it can be
taken from you.
Happy Birthday.

I did have a nice day of good, distracting activities to keep my mind off of that little tidbit, however. On my way to dropping everyone off at their respective daily posts, I could hear my phone chirping away. People texting me, and my being tempted to return the love, right then and there, because... I'm a talker, even when it's not expressed in an audible way. But yeah, no. I'm a good girl, and I don't text and drive. Ever. I still have some to return, and I'll get to it soon. Thanks, everyone!

After dropping everyone off, I drove downtown and picked up my friend Jenn, and we met up with our friends Karen and SanQ at Petit Provence for breakfast. They have about 80 different kinds of mimosas. I tried the hibiscus one. Damn, that was tasty! It was so nice to catch up with the ladies, and just hang and gab for a little while. I am still getting used to not having my kids with me during the day, and having all of this time to do adult things is really foreign.

But well? Also really fucking nice. I kinda forgot what that was like, after having this gig for the past 9 years.

Adult time. Who knew?

After dropping Jenn off, I found Mr. Hed, and we did a little shopping... and then had a little uh... picnic in Washington Park that I won't go into detail about, but yeah. Let's just say I know how to have a good time, and am not really that scared of the cops... anymore. A-hem.

Before I knew it, it was time to pick up the kids. I took them out for cupcakes at New Cascadia. Now, this is a place I can sink my teeth into. Gluten free goodies that are actually pretty damn good. The kids were quite impressed, and they aren't even on any sort of restrictions when it comes to this sort of thing, so yeah... that's saying something. There is a little soy in their frosting, but I think I'm finally at a point where a little bit won't hurt me once in a while. I feel OK right now, so I'm guessing that's a good thing. I just won't be doing that every day.

We went to the park for a bit, and ran our kinks out. It was so intensely beautiful yesterday, I did not want to spend much time indoors. Laurelhurst Park was a mighty good backdrop, I must say.

We went home a little later on, then I got gussied, complete with my favourite sexy boots, and went to the bar, and got goooooood and drunk with more friends. I will say that a Hot Toddy made with Knob Creek is worth trying. Blood orange old fashioned's are not too bad, either. And Bulleit Rye? Win. Yes. Win, my friends.

This morning, I woke up quite hung over, but pretty darn happy. We were supposed to go out again tonight, but I went insane and decided to make apple butter from 50,000,000 apples. It is still cooking now, and I'm still recovering.

All in all, freaking awesome birthday. And it's just begun!


Thursday, October 13, 2011

Is it all rhetoric?

I don't know what to think of what Facebook does to people. It is really interesting to hear how affected people become over things they see on this website that... well? It's a website.

I think it's important for people to realize this. It is a tool for communicating, sure, but is it too much? At times, I think so. I think it's important to remember that when we have lists of people that range above 200, we should probably think about what we post there. This is why I use an alias, why I post almost nothing personal, and why I keep changing my birth year to reflect my desire to remain 28.

I don't believe this prevents us from being ourselves. Can't we be ourselves in real life with real people?

My close friends know my story. They hear my story while I use my real voice, usually in person. That is how it should be, as far as I'm concerned.

It does crack me up though when I'm out and about, usually at a restaurant, bar, or coffee place, trying to have a conversation with a friend about real stuff; or trying to read a book, because yes, I still do that, and I hear people bitching about this social networking site. They go off about how they see too much from some people, or not enough from others. They become butthurt when someone drops them from their friends list. They talk about people they have dropped from their own friend lists.

Is this what we have become as a society? Really? South Park was right. Facebook is like Tron. It will suck you in, and you will become trapped in the matrix. Well, if you let it.

The latest thing that I have noticed from people are all of these political/philosophical tiles that get shared, and re-shared. They are a bit like bumper sticker wisdom. At times, I think those are great. Some have really great quotes that make you think. But I also have to wonder, if this, too, isn't too much?

It sort of reminds me of that time a couple years ago when I drove down SE 20th Ave toward Hawthorne BLVD, and I saw a stop sign. Underneath the word "stop", someone had placed a sticker that read: "Now is all you have." At the time, I thought that was just fantastic! But on the same drive, I noticed more of them. And more of them. And... still more. One bike rack area had them plastered all over it.

And well... yeah. As you could imagine, I was less impressed. See where I'm going?

Are we turning great wisdom into cheap rhetoric? It is feeling like that to me, at least a bit. I get it, and it's great that the word is getting out, and possibly making people think, but... is it, or is it more of the same in a veritable sea of once-great things that are starting to matter less and less? I guess it's all been happening for a while with the ability to rip CDs and DVDs; the ability to buy cheaper art prints; the ability to basically cheapen anything that is truly great, bring it to the point of saturation.

Accessibility is a great thing, don't get me wrong. Without the benefit of these truly great things, we would live a miserable existence. But accessibility and saturation are completely different things, and I believe it's important that we are careful in that distinction.

When we allow accessibility, we are saying that we believe anyone, if they so choose, can see, learn, and experience something that may have only been accessible to a select few in the past.

Nothing wrong with that.

When we allow things to reach the point of saturation, we see people rolling their eyes because they have not only had way too much access, but may have never wanted access in the first place, and are so sick of said subject matter, that they start looking for something completely different.

This is a lot of what I see on this social networking site that, yes, OK, I still go to, because I will admit... some of it is fun. Enough of it is fun to make me want to stay. For now. But I am not really that into talking about it... on the outside. I would much rather hear about what you have been up to, and what you are doing with your life.


Sunday, October 9, 2011

It only takes once: Proof that my friends are a terrible influence on me.

There are times when I am so influenced by a certain misspelling, or slang term that I will always think of that when I see the real word, though should probably try to use... the real word, instead of what has replaced it in my mind.

Exhibit A: The word "Amazeballz".

It's not even a word, but now, when I see the word "Amazing", no matter where, and no matter the context, it always reads as "Amazeballz" to me.

The other day, as I dropped my daughter off at school, a little boy wore a message T-shirt, that read: "The Amazing Spider Man", with a cartoon drawing of him on the front. But in my mind? Spiderman was... Amazeballz. It took me a second to register that a small child probably would not wear that particular non-word on his chest, and I had to re-read to confirm that yes, in fact, this was all in my head, and no, they really did not make a shirt that size with that non-word emblazoned across the front of it.

See what you people are doing to me? Do you see? DO YOU SEE???

And still more proof follows with Exhibit B: The word "Waffle." Oh lord.

Really, this should be a benign, innocuous breakfast food. But no. It will never, ever be the same. See? Several months ago now, some friends started using a word that described someone so annoying, the only word left that fit was "Twatwaffle". It is the kind of word that goes well with a cough, and as you can imagine... perfect to fit into conversation, virtually undetected, unless you speak smartass, which I happen to be fluent in.

It was all very funny, but now? Whenever I see the word "waffle" anywhere in public, I crack up a little. And good lord. How long have I known the normal, everyday meaning of that word?

It will never be the same.

Here is another example of my mind's ridiculous ability to adjust to its surroundings. This one actually has nothing to do with my friends, but still... guh.

Exhibit C: Unintentional Misspellings.

There was a woman I worked with several years ago with a name that wasn't easy to spell. I was in charge of all things filing, because I was young like that, and whoever had made her file folder up, had transposed two letters in her name. No matter how many times I saw her name spelled correctly in print; because of that particular misspelling on her folder, my mind would always transpose those letters, and I would read it the other way. I had to really concentrate so that I would not also make the same mistake any time I needed to type her name up for any reason.

I even went so far as to make a new label for her folder the second week I was in that office, but alas, to no avail; the synapses were already misfiring, and she would forever be Mrs. Misspelled to me.

Sad, but true.

One of these days, maybe I will decide to just be set in my ways, and my brain will be an impervious store of knowledge that neither I, nor anyone around me will question. Although... I have to wonder if that's actually a good idea either? See? The older you get, and the more you learn, the less you really do know.

It is getting worse with the internet.

I had a conversation over coffee recently with Miranda about this, and about how the ability to "Google" anything and everything, and not having to actually know things anymore, because we all have our little "smart phones" and other devices, might actually be a bad thing. If it's there, and you don't feel the need to store it organically anymore, will you?

Is Google destroying our ability to retain information?

It could be. If you know it's there at your disposal, and you are busy with other implements of world domination, it's quite possible that you may need to go back and look at something again and again. And thinking about my own mind, and how it will retain incorrect information because it likes to taunt me, it could be quite dangerous. Hm.

And yet? I still do it all the time.


Friday, October 7, 2011

But your memory is here and I'd like it to stay. Warm light, on a winter's day.

In the morning, I am to drive to Eugene to celebrate the life of a friend from my younger years; a life that was cut short way too soon. I suppose this is all part of life in general, but frankly? It still sucks.

I really hate goodbyes. Especially permanent ones.

I have had an eventful week, and haven't really had much time to process all of this. I received the call that he had passed away last Sunday morning, just as I was parking my car to meet up with a friend and do AIDSWalk. After receiving this news, I was not myself that day, but I did my best. It was a nice distraction to have something going on that required me to be a bit active, since that does seem to be the way I deal with things most effectively.

After that, I had a pretty steady week of work, mixed with neighbourhood disturbances that required my attention and Chutzpah.

Let's just say... there are times when I take the easy way out. What can I say? I don't handle this sort of thing that well, so I often bury myself in work, and fill what would normally be free time with other things so I don't have to think about it. That sense of doom that pends after someone I know leaves this world, has never been an easy thing for me to face.

I'm just being honest here. I don't like visiting dark places for long, so I look for the shiny distractions at just about every turn.

We all knew this was coming for a while. Aaron was diagnosed in 2009, just two years after he married the love of his life; right around their second annivesary. He did last about 2 years longer than originally predicted. I think a lot of that had to do with his attitude toward life. He was not the type of man who would let something like Cancer get him down. He even coined a phrase that caught on with his friends, as well as people who may have seen his story on the news: "Cancer Sucks. Life is good. Choose joy."

'Aint that the truth? Few things are this true, people. I feel that if anyone needs a lesson in how to live with, rather than die of disease, it's that one. Attitude is everything.

Aaron was not the type to wallow in self-pity. In some ways, we were a lot alike. Humour was a coping strategy for him, and he used it often. He even did stand-up comedy for a while, and he was good at it! We often had to remind him after he became sick that it was OK to feel sad about certain things, and it was OK to cry. We wouldn't think less of him if he did.

And there were times when he did. Really, I think he struck a pretty healthy balance when it came to emoting about his condition. He handled it remarkably.

As far as the before time; we were fairly close for a few years. As many of you know, I have a history of being Baptist. There were times when I enjoyed going to church. And other times... the majority of the times, really, not so much. Aaron was one of the few people who made it bearable though. He was hilarious and comforting. I think we had a pretty good understanding of one another, because we were both only children. To me, he always felt like an older brother, though neither of us would ever really know what that felt like.

It is funny how life works. I can remember talking to my mom on the phone, making pancakes, while pregnant with MicroSqueak. She told me that this girl that I knew from the before time; the long, long ago, wanted her to come along on what would be... sort of like her first date with: get this! Aaron Jamison!

I remember thinking to myself: "Wow!"

It didn't take too long until they were engaged after that. And this girl, who I still remember as this adorable middle-schooler, to me, could not have been a better partner for him. She has more character, strength, and integrity than most people ever gain in life. It has been an amazing thing to witness. I am really proud of her for being so strong through all of this. It has been an extremely rough road, and she deserves so much credit.

He was a Christian, and one of the most accepting Christians I had ever met; the kind of Christian I have actual respect for; non-judgmental, and would be your friend regardless of just about any difference you may bring forth.

Just about anyone who went to the U of O in the mid 1990s and hung out at The Glenwood on campus would probably remember him, since he worked there at the time, and would often play guitar and sing in the evenings. He was one of those people you just don't forget.

I will never forget Aaron Jamison.


Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Why should I care what stupid people think? After all... they are stupid.

It's true. There are people out there who will make snap judgments about you based on appearance, or first impressions. Some of those snap judgments are not reversible, or if they are, it takes a LOT of time to overcome them. Personally, I usually give people a while before I decide whether or not I like them. It takes a long time to get to know a person, and depending on how guarded they are, you may never get to know certain people at all.

And... to those people, I say: Damn. Whatever. If I had more time to try and draw you out, I would... but I'm already juggling 15 things on my right hand while trying to figure you out with my left, so I guess I'll catch you at some point on the flip side. Maybe it's just not our time yet. Whatever.

And... to the ones who make the snap-judgments based on a single meeting, I say: Screw you.

It has been said by many, many people, and I will say it again: There will always be someone out there who has more than you, or looks better than you. They might be more articulate, or stylish. They might have a little more personal growth in their background. The list goes on, and you know what? Who the fuck cares? If anything, I think it's a great thing to meet people who can teach me a thing or two.

Most of us can stand to learn new things, am I right? I think we all have something to teach one another, and the quicker we learn this, the happier we will be.

That said, I believe life is way too damn short to worry about what some person you have only just met thinks of you. Just be yourself. Chances are? You are probably pretty great without adding any sort of affectation, or trying to make a good impression.

And if not? Try stuff out. Keep trying stuff out until you find something that makes you come alive, and thrive. This doesn't necessarily mean you need to make a living at it. It could simply be something that gives you enough enjoyment to keep going, and work a job that you may not necessarily love, but must do for survival. You also don't have to be a virtuoso in the beginning. No one is. We all have to start somewhere.

But you know what? You will have so much more energy for that job, than if you didn't pursue whatever it is that you love. Just try, damn it! And you never know: maybe the inspiration or idea to do something really well will lead to a better position or offer. Life takes strange turns at times.

Pay attention to them.

But don't pay attention to stupid people. After all? They are stupid. Spend more time reminiscing about the tape single while listening to this gem, dug up from my demented youth. It was a marvel.


Monday, October 3, 2011

On when it is a good time to be dramatic and kick some ass:

Today was kind of a busy work day for me. I had a quick-turn project to work on in my studio. This basically means that the photographic subject matter is brought to me, and I shoot and process all in the same day. This is no big deal if I don't have a lot of other jobs in process, but right now, I do. I'm a busy lady, and I love it.

I was going to do this product shoot in my studio, but conditions were not really suitable for the pieces I was trying to capture. See, I work with refracted light when I am shooting glass, meaning I have to figure out a way to suspend the product over the light, and allow it to illuminate the pieces from underneath.

For now, because I have not yet built or found a glass table small and suitable enough to keep in my studio, I have been shooting the pieces on the glass shelves in my bathroom. Hey. Don't judge. I have done some AMAZEBALLZ work this way. So far, only my friend E has watched me do this. And she did for a while today, and totally cracked up, as I climbed into my bathtub, propping myself up on the edge to get the shots. It works. Whatever.

Anyway, because of this I did not notice that a transient had settled in on the property between my house and the neighbouring building, housing three businesses. This has been an ongoing issue for us since we have moved in here. The problem being, the dumpster and small inlet between the two properties. It is very easy for someone to go back there and hide from the world... well, most of it.

As soon as I did notice him, though, I called the police. This particular transient has been notorious for certain offenses. I had suspected someone was doing something there for a while, because I discovered my clothing catalogues opened to the lingerie section back there from time to time.

Yeah, I try not to think too much about it.

I told the dispatcher that I needed to step out to pick my children up and explained the pertinent situation to her. She said she would send someone out there to move the guy along.

Well, when I arrived back home, not only was he still there, but he was masturbating in plain view, and my children both saw everything, and of course shouted "EWWW!!!"

Yeah, that was fun. Explaining drunken transient masturbation to a five year old.

Not OK.

So, I called the police again, this time in practical hysterics, explaining what had just happened. once again, the dispatcher said she would send someone out.

About 20 minutes later, I received a knock on my door from someone I will refer to as "Officer Butthurt". He pointed to the transient, and asked me if that was who I was referring to.

I explained that it was, indeed.

He then had this to say: "So, you do realize that he not on your property?"

At this point it was very difficult for me not to verbally abuse this idiot. "Yes. But he is visible, and he is making my yard an unsafe place for my children to play."

"Explain to me what you saw today, Miss."

"It's Mrs., first of all, and secondly, I called for the first time at 2 PM. No one came to do anything then, even after I had explained that this man has a history of masturbating back there, in full view of everyone.

"When I came home from picking my children up from school, he was doing exactly that, and my children saw everything. Have you ever experienced the joys of explaining public, drunken, transient masturbation to a five year old? Well, I did about 20 minutes ago. That was GREAT fun!"

"Well, again, this is not on your property. I will go next door, and see if they are willing to have me remove him. If they let transients stay back there as a rule, I will have to let him stay."

"But the landlord has signed a no-trespassing agreement with the police department. Seriously. What the... huh???? Are you for real? Really? HE WAS MASTURBATING!!!! HE WAS EXPOSING HIMSELF TO MY 5 YEAR OLD! HOW IS THAT OK?"

"Those are the rules, Ma'am."

With that, he walked next door. I can't tell you how violated and under-valued I felt here, and now moreso by the police officer than the fucking drunken transient masturbator dude.

I thought they would set him straight and he would remove the man. No. They did not. And he did not.

Absolutely infuriated, I started texting my friends like a madwoman, since my children were being loud, and acting confused as to why I was keeping them in the back of the house, away from the windows. One friend suggested I alert the media. Another suggested I call the mayor's office. I finally just put a show on for my kids, quickly walked next door to the art gallery.

I walked up to one of the employees, and asked her: "Did a police officer come in here to speak to you about a transient?"


"Did you tell him to remove said transient?"

"No. I told him to call the landlord."

"Do you have the landlord's number."

"No. I don't."

"I need to explain the circumstances of this particular transient. He has been jerking off back there, and I can't even let my children go near the window right now. We need to remove him, stat!"

"I don't know what to tell you."

I walked to herb store. It had a sign on the door that said: "Be back in 5 minutes."


I walked into the record store, and explained the situation. He promptly gave me the phone number for the landlord. When I dialed it, it showed up as "Next door building landlord."

I am awesome.

I know it.

Shut up.

I called him in tears, explaining the situation to him. He was livid, since we both knew that he had gone to the Police department and signed the aforementioned agreement with them.

Mr. Hed arrived home not long after this, and I was in tears, and quite distraught, because it really felt like nothing was going to be done about this. He went into the basement and pulled out a shovel. I then spent about five minutes talking him out of getting popped for assault, because yeah... is it worth it? Not really. But it was nice to know that he was taking it seriously.

I instead, explained that I was more upset with how the police handled this than anything else. So, the next thing I knew, he was on the phone to the cops, giving them a real earful.

Thanks, honey.

His wife came over and smoothed things out with us, telling us how to handle the police, by telling them to be sure to check their records here, and look up the no-trespassing agreement.

Not long after that, I watched the man get arrested across the street. He is gone. Hopefully for good.

And we also received a call from the landlord of the building. He has plans to secure that area so the transient problem will hopefully be history.

But in the same call, he let us know that he talked to the same officer who originally responded. And because of the way things were handled in the first store he went into, and was told that he needed to call the landlord, but that they didn't have the phone number for the landlord, he felt "Jerked around", and just left.

So... because of an officer's ego, I had a rawther unpleasant afternoon.

Mr. Hed has plans to give them yet another earful tomorrow, because apparently he was told to call back on day shift. Uh... the officer felt jerked around? Really? Poor piggy.

Seriously. What a day! Good lord!