The Absolute Gall of Entitled Rumpusholes

Val is hot-to-trot, my friends. And not in a good way. No silks or sulky in sight. Simply seething, and ready to share a portion of her cerebellum with a few select rumpusholes encountered earlier this day.

Yes, Val is fuming. Fuming like an exterminator roaming through the classrooms of Steelville Middle School, circa late 80s, wearing a tank and wielding a wand made of metal, spewing chemicals probably not meant for inhalation by young teens.

Here's the deal. I was in the School-Turn Casey's, waiting in line behind one customer, an old man who had just paid, and was taking up the counter while putting away his debit card. I was next. The cashier decided to use that moment to fiddle with the OTHER register. It looked like she was making a money drop. She inserted some bills into something I couldn't see, which made a whirring sound.

"I'll be with you folks in a minute."

Not a problem. I was next. An old man had come up behind me from the left. He was holding a soft-serve ice cream cone. I was holding a winning scratcher worth $75. While the original customer was slowly combing through his wallet to fit his debit card in the right spot, the Old Man behind me stepped up to the unopened register where Cashier was still fiddling.

"I'm just going to give you this money so I can eat my ice cream before it melts." He handed Cashier a handful of change and walked out the door. She nodded.

WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FREAKIN' NOT-HEAVEN???

That is line-jumping! Or did I miss a new law that decrees ice cream cannot be eaten while standing in line waiting to pay for it. That it can only be eaten outside the store after paying. 

But wait! That's not all. As the original customer took his time stuffing his wallet into a back pocket, and organizing his purchase to pick up, a young woman carrying a large orange soda got in line behind me from the right. She had a toddler on her hip, and three other urchins under five orbiting her.

"I just have my cup. They all wanted one, but I can't afford four." She hoisted the full cup in the air, and walked out! Cashier nodded.

WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FREAKIN' NOT-HEAVEN???

That is line-jumping. AND stealing! Did I miss a new law that if all you have is a large soda and a lot of kids, you can leave the store without paying? Getting your soda for free?

Then a lady and young boy came up from the right. I swear, I thought she was going to barge ahead of me, too. But Cashier said, "I can help you now." You're darn tootin' you can help me now! You already took two people ahead of me, while I was abiding the unwritten rules of society!

That's how it works, you know. Most children even understand. You get behind the people who were there first, and wait until it's your turn. There's no "I JUST HAVE..." about it. First come, first served. Sometimes you get behind somebody buying a single item, sometimes you get behind somebody with three shopping carts. That's the breaks. 

I didn't advise that man to buy a soft-serve ice cream cone when it's 98 degrees outside. Nor did I pour the mix that made it extra melty into the machine. 

I didn't go to that gal's house (or car backseat) and force her to procreate so rapidly in succession. 

JUST because you want to eat your ice cream outside alone, or have to tow around four kids everywhere you go, doesn't mean that you get to skip the line to pay! Or steal!

A Chinese Linking Ring Puzzle in a Knotted Bag Locked in Houdini's Trunk Stashed in a Corn Maze

Balancing our flip house books is a chore that would have crime scene cleaners, coal miners, and Moroccan leather dye pit workers rejoicing that their jobs are easy by comparison.

Hick is not a good recordkeeper. 

He stashes receipts here and there in SilverRedO. He'll tell me, upon interrogation, "Oh, that's on the dash. It's on the visor. I've got it out in SilverRedO. That's in my billfold somewhere. I gave it to you already. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Hick's filing system is like a box of chocolates!

Hick will tell me one thing, then write down another. It is SO HARD to torture the truth out of him! The one thing he remembers is NUMBERS. Well, if they're not HOUSE numbers. I can usually backtrack enough to match up the specific expenditure with something in Hick's mind.

Hick confuses the streets of the flip houses. He designated one expense to a street where we haven't owned the property since 2017. On his yellow legal page of May cash expenditures, there were The Pony's house, our house, Lap House, Cheap House, and weed-eater repairs. Even though I've asked him to use separate pages for each property. What I get is a list, by date, with scribbles of the amount, and a two/three word description of what it's for. That's the GOOD NEWS!

The bad news is when Hick forgets to tell me when he uses the debit card, or says he used it when instead he used the credit card. Are you sensing my chagrin?

Here's an example from Monday. That morning, I had tried to balance my checkbook (elderlies DO like the old ways) using my bank's automated phone system. There was a charge I had no record of. For $45.29. It was pending, with no explanation of the business. 

That afternoon, I was in the School-Turn Casey's, just a block away from Cheap House. As I was getting scratchers, Hick walked in.

"Getting your tickets?"

"Yeah. Did you put $45.29 on the debit card today?"

"No."

"Are you sure? There's a charge that I didn't make. Think about it."

"No. I didn't put nothin' on it. Unless it was lawnmower gas. That's it. Lawnmower gas a couple days ago. At the Backroads Casey's."

"So you just weren't going to tell me about it?"

"I don't have no receipt. Old Buddy didn't get one."

"Why is Old Buddy using our debit card?"

"He wasn't. I put the card in to pay, then I went inside. Old Buddy was pumping the gas. Then he forgot to hit the button to get a receipt. So I don't have one."

Which in Hick's mind, apparently means that there was no charge! Since he never would have told me about it, had I not grilled him at the counter of another Casey's.

I don't get paid enough for this! Oh, wait. I don't get paid at all.

A Mother's Day Gift for Hick

I forgot to tell you that Hick got a Mother's Day gift on May 6th. Oh, he didn't get it for ME. He got it for himself. It was a surprise. He DID send me a picture of that gift, in SilverRedO.

They are fake tulips, with several gift cards also "growing" from the pot. The gift cards were from girly boutiques (instead of manly boutiques, heh, heh) in the local area. 

"Look what we won from the abstract office"

Hick said WE, but turns out it was only HIM. He said the gal who does our closings at the regular title company we use had called him. She said they had been putting everyone's name in, and had a drawing for this Mother's Day gift. Hick's name was drawn.

Did Hick present that gift to ME for Mother's Day? Nope. He gave me a card. So there's that. I would not have used those gift cards anyway. I don't really need fake tulips. It would have been the THOUGHT that counted. As it was, he gave all the gift cards to The Veteran's daughters, who are in their early teens now, and like girly stuff. The fake tulips are sitting on our marred coffee table. I think they partially obstruct Hick's view of the TV when he sits on the long couch to fold his underwear and socks.

As for the state of SilverRedO in that photo... it might help you understand why I have such a hard time keeping up with the flip bills Hick eventually submits to me.

Beware a Nervous Man with Time and a Phone on His Hands

Hick had a little medical issue last month. It was actually the day after his clamor shot Glamour Shot. I won't go into the details. I can't prove his harem had anything to do with it! The Pony and Old Buddy were actually there with him, working on the security camera at the apartments, when Hick was struck down with ill health.

Being Hick, he continued working, waiting for his doctor NP office to open, so he could call and consult them on what to do. He ended up driving himself to the closest ER. Old Buddy really wanted to take him, but Hick was set on doing it himself. I won't go into details, but after several tests, nothing conclusive was found, and Hick is awaiting a specialist's appointment in August. His symptoms have abated, but other testing will likely be done.

Anyhoo... the issue here is that Hick was left waiting for a while. Triage, you know. Even once he got back to a room to wait for tests, he heard a helicopter. So knew he would be there awhile. That gave his mind time to dwell on his mortality. And to snoop into the business of others in the facility. Hick does not like to be idle. He texted me every half hour.

"Never thought I'd see a pup in the emergency room. Look at the toilet paper. I started to tell her but I didn't." Five minutes later: "They just made her take the dog out"

Now I want to know how Hick would have brought up the subject IF he had decided to tell that woman she had a toilet paper tail.

Hick's Harem Is Overstepping Their Bounds

Hick has not been telling me many tales of his harem lately. I wonder if there's something I should know... It seems that the old gals are quite persuasive in leading Hick to do their bidding. Here's a text I got May 6th. Hick never has mentioned it. Just the text:

"They did clamor shots at senior center yesterday and the old ladies made me do it too"

A likely story! They MADE him do it? Surely these fragile elderlies cannot strongarm Hick into a situation which he might consider not quite appropriate. I guess it doesn't really take muscle. Just a stroking of Hick's ego...

I should probably be relieved, upon seeing the picture, that Hick meant GLAMOUR SHOTS, not clamor shots. Can't have him imbibing on his (just over $300/month) job!

There's our boy! I resisted the urge to give him googly eyes. A simple pair of spectacles will do. You'd think one of Hick's admirers could have at least straightened his tie and collar. Maybe not the one who likes to drink. Or maybe she IS the one who helped Hick get ready for his closeup. I'm pretty sure that get-up travels with the Glamour Shot photographer. I don't recall seeing Hick wear it before, nor take it out of the Mansion on picture day. This really does not look like Hick at all. It's the hat. He's usually in a trucker cap.

Heh, heh. Why am I imagining a little framed photo of Hick on each of their nightstands?

The Other Thing I Found

That title is the text Hick sent me about another SUS2.5 treasure. 

That's a nice old-timey metal truck. It has a SEAT! Hick says it's a riding toy. That rusty metal stick thingy on top is for pulling it, or for steering if you (a child!) sits on the seat. I don't know how that would work. It doesn't look like a steering wheel to me! More like a giant key to open a can of sardines or SPAM. WAIT! If that rod is connected to something under the hood of the truck, I can imagine how it turns the wheels.

Anyhoo... Hick paid $50 for this old metal riding truck. He will take $100. for it. He says it's a Buddy L Deluxe Rider. That they are going for $350 in good condition, which his isn't. But it would be a good starter for somebody wanting to collect them.

Hick Says It's DY-NO-MITE!

Hick is always eager to show off new wares at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). On Sunday morning, he sent me a text at 7:22.

"Something for you to tell stories on your page"

My first thought was, Wow, that's cool! Upon first glance, without my glasses, I thought it was a display of wine corks and corkscrews. Like somebody had made up a nice little (BIG, folding) shadowbox to showcase their favorites, or mementos. Then I supposed it looked a little bit like a science fair display, though wine would not have been a subject that I would okay for a science project.

I put on my glasses, enlarged the picture, and saw BLASTING CAPS. And sticks of dynamite! Well. Still cool. But maybe dangerous! Was Hick going to store this in his SUS2.5? Or worse, bring it home and put it in his unairconditioned BARn or Storage Container Garage? I definitely needed more info. Which would have to wait until Hick got home...

Hick said it's dynamite, but not dangerous. (!)

"How is that? There are jars of gunpowder! Or dynamite powder! Can't that explode?"

"No. I think it's not real. I think they've put something in there to look like it. There was a label on it that said 'ATF Test Kit.' I don't think it works."

"Like for training? To show the different kinds of explosives, and what they might look like?"

"Yeah. I got if from one of my guys I trade with. I paid $100 for it. This morning I thought I had it sold for $200, but the guy backed out of the deal. I'd take $150 for it, if somebody offered, but I have it marked for $200."

Well. At least Hick won't be bringing home explosives, fake or not. I might worry about having it sitting in my hot storage unit store, though. At least it's probably in the main unit with some air conditioning.