Screwing Old Guys on Craigslist Over A Mirror

A few years ago my wife wanted a mirror for our place that was simple, elegant, and didn't carry a reflection of long-dead Pig War participants. She found one through West Elm ("World Market items at Masins prices!") and we ordered it and hung it up. It was/is a nice little piece. Rectangular, borderless, with a glass shelf in the lower-quarter of it. It's a nice addition to an entryway, bathroom, Swinger Shed, what-have-you. And after a few years and a move to-from California, we just don't have the place for it anymore. Couldn't garage-sell it, so we did the on-line garage sale that is Craigslist.

You can find anything on Craigslist, from pagan roommates with fish allergies to 18" rimz fo' yo' whip (that's a car, mom), to strangers who want to teach your kids stuff. I said "teach," not "touch," right? Okay, just checking. You can also find somebody to send 38 emails to about your desire to meet the right person just beforeyou bail on meeting somebody face-to-face, a key component of GETTING THE SEX. And you can find old people to screw for $20.

We tried to sell the mirror to a guy we'll call Smokey. He smokes a lot. I know because he had 2 packs of Liggett Red Kings of various fill in his Camaro. He dressed exclusively in black & white. His car is white with a black rag top, black & white steering wheel, white mods to the dash, etc. He wanted the white-backed mirror for his condo. I know because after we posted the mirror on Craigslist for $20 (it was $100 originally) he emailed saying he wanted it for his condo, which is all black and white and chrome, which is what he told me about his place. I went to meet him in public because you just don't let people know where you live, especially if you are going to screw them.

So I take this $100 mirror to a parking lot mid-way between our homes. He's inside the ROSS looking for something black and/or white and/0r chrome. He chooses this lifestyle. He comes out to meet me, tells me he doesn't get outta the house much because he's fighting cancer, hands me a $20 bill, and I carefully help him transfer the mirror to his Camaro, which I have already set the scene for. Cigarettes. Black & white (like the ashes of the cigarettes). Godspeed, Sir.

I get a voicemail 20minutes later saying this:
"Hey there GEOFF, this is Smokey, and boy you really pulled one over on me, boy. Good job there, Geoff. Yeah, this mirror's no good. Totally ruined. There's moisture behind it, probably been in a bathroom, it's junk. I'm trying to clean it up but I don't know. And there was a price tag on it for $15, so you got me good, but hey, YOU came out ahead $20, so there ya go."

1) I'm down $80 plus gas, I'm not ahead $20

2) No pre-inspection of the mirror in the parking lot, caveat emptor, this is a garage sale scenario

3) If you can see yourself in the $20 mirror, it's not ruined

4) It is never my intent to put the screws to somebody, that's bad karma, and worse when it's $20 off a guy who is battling cancer... AND SMOKING

5) Buyer's remorse/guilt can be easily swayed by spreading the blame around, just kick it right back to them and act very put-out

I need the karma more than the $20, and while I'm usually a "tough-love" kind of guy, I called the old cancer patient back and took his still-folded $20 back to meet him in the same parking lot. Anything that wastes my time pisses me off. Anything that takes away from my family or my happiness pisses me off. And this was doing both. So this self-weathered asshole was pissing me off. And he does this kind of thing because...

1) He has no family

2) He has no hobbies

3) He is bad with time management

When you're fighting cancer and have shit-else to do, save that time for something important like not thinking Craigslist is some kind of factory-direct shipping company catering to your every need for decor and/or ashtrays. Hell, don't even wait to get cancer, just act like that now, don't waste your time nor others, keep your ethics high, your expectations low-to-moderate, and you probably won't get cancer. Take a good long look in the mirror, Smokey.

How much more black & white can I get?

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Techknowledgey

Recently there was a report on TV about how some bands have reduced their ticket prices to make sure their fans can come out to shows in this recovering economy. In it they showed footage of a recent concert of some band I probably don't like, especially if their shows are tame enough to be taped for the 5 o'clock downer report.

What I found funny was the number of cell phones in the air at this show. Little lit-up screens faced away from the stage, which means these people were either recording the show on video or audio.

So... you wait for a band you like to come to town. Spend $50 on a ticket, IF you can get your cheese in order and take on Ticketmaster's website and the legalized scalpers. Then you pay for parking at the show, couple of beers maybe, some weed, and then, when the Likely Better Than The Headliners Opening Band is done, you wait... anticipating the lights to go down like every show...

And as the bland of your current hotPod playlist hits the stage, your heart leaps into your pocket so you can PULL OUT YOUR CAMERA PHONE?

The band your co-workers think is "inaccessibly indie-sounding" is RIGHT THERE, 30 feet from your wine-soaked mug and you're living the experience vicariously through a 2-or3-inch screen. Recording it to watch it later, in all it's fuzzy, distorted goodness.

Another thing to do in this situation is to go to the show alone, stand dead center, and let it happen around you, taking it all in. You know, get your money's worth. Nobody wants to see Hinder replayed on Y'allToob. This entire scene is a Hindenberg of technology, I cannot wait to see phones get yanked by security, all so an adult with a 17 year-old's mentality could try and recapture a non-life-changing moment.

Idiots: Ruining it when the criminals are too cool to.

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My Blog About My Dad

No, Not In My MySpace Space

Ty Willingham is a ridiculous tiny coach and should be fired.

Well, they finally did it to themselves.

More Money and Power make people more of who they really are. If you're a little paranoid about a little power and money, a lot will drive you further behind the fortress of cereal boxes you built at breakfast. You'd be alone, mind you, as paranoia's accusatory onslaught carries all the charm of a mosquito buzzing in your ear while your grandmother screams "HUH? HUH?" and you repeat your answer until she asks ANOTHER question, and all you can think of is how you can't wait to fake-Gay-Out yourself into banishment and away from this lovely - but stone deaf - woman's underbaked hams. You suffer because, dag-nabbit, they DESERVE your attention. And cards played right, you're getting the LP collection upon her passing, now 19 years overdue.

MySpace, a FOX/Murdoch-owned entity, has created a way to simultaneously look Safe AND Paranoid. If you have a Space account and tried to log in this morning you may have been greeted with a Verification window. It's an application that generates random numbers and letters in varied order and linear formation so that you have to take a typing test in order to log in and see who called you Gay. Or Republican.

You know that first time you did a mountain of cocaine and then over the next few months you were Super Positive that the monkey in the rhododendron was, in fact, a CIA operative? And then, to make sure she couldn't get in when you were gone, you stopped leaving the house? And THEN, to make sure she couldn't get in when you were home, you duct-taped the doors shut? Well that's what MySpace did.

Instead of investing in security WITHIN the network, they threw up a giant snorfling gate and said "TRY TO CROSS." And no matter what combo you entered, whether is was Correct, Right, or Perfect, you and your desire to be looked-at wasn't getting in. And I thought to myself:

"Well, they finally did it. They went ahead and hit critical mass of management, and locked us all out. Awesome." I was happy about it. It wasn't like having a withdrawal, no shakes or bugs. Just a feeling of relief that they'd put themselves out of our misery. MySpace, for all it's influence and ability to connect people, is really now aimed at people younger than myself, hornier than myself, and drunker than myself. FINE, that's why I'm getting more into FaceBook, anyway.

So, soon I'll dump the MySpace Account, as soon as I figure out the FaceBook a bit more. And when I do, you will all follow me to FaceBook.
Why?
What are you looking for? What do I have that you need?
Before you say another word, you'll need to know my secret phrase.

Which is?

"GET UNDER THE COFFEE TABLE, THE GRIDDLE IS HOT"

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad