Books are important. It takes readers to make writers. I outta know! I’m still writing. That said, I unintentionally started a youtube channel. I didn’t mean to, and it’s never going to be something I rely on for money. I just want a place to put all my cell phone photos in my own artsy way.
The link to my Youtube: ONE DOVE @ YOUTUBE
It is my lot in life to be irritated. I’m irritated with how lazy my female co-workers are. The restaurant hired a new girl who sits in the break room and vapes for the majority of her shift. I’m irritated that she will be hard to get rid of because you’re no longer allowed to fire people for not doing their jobs. I’m irritated that my brothers’ mom has been dead for 5 weeks now and I’m still having to run around in the 97 degree Las Vegas heat on my day off because of her. I’m irritated that Youtube won’t let me pick the cover to my reels. I’m irritated that my reels aren't even full screen. I’m irritated that I’m sober. Tomorrow I’m fixing that!
Anyway
Here are a few new reels.
I’m just happy I have some place to display my iphone photos. You do realize I’m [this close] to making film shorts.
My Youtube short reel series: ZOMBIE WALK
Took a series of cloud photos yesterday. This one among them.
When you were a kid didja ever look at clouds and see things in them?
I’ve been good, worn my pressure socks every day, and no more feet bloat and calf stiffness.
For the last two days I worked at my boss’s second restaurant. What a dumpster fire. Hell’s Kitchen does not even begin to describe it. The guy who corporate put in charge of this restaurant ran it hard into the ground. The women he hired were the laziest bitches I ever saw. If they were stealing from the restaurant they were at least smart in just skimming, unlike my regular workplace (where I’m at today) where cooks just rob the fucking place on camera and think “I’m entitled to steal this.” One woman was fired, and the cook I blogged about earlier is about to be. What are you people thinking? Is it worth it? Steal for a day, be miserable looking for new work, and if you’re lucky enough to be hired within a reasonable amount of time then learn a new menu and set-up of a new place. Why do it? So you can complain how unfair company policy is? “They fired me for stealing. How uncool!”
Yesterday while I was there my boss asked me if I wanted to pick up Saturdays and Sundays at her 2nd place. I turned her down. I told her if she’s going to keep that many people on the clock to do absolutely nothing, they can do the prep work. They fuck around at the first restaurant too but at least they work 80% of the time. They do their shit. And if they’re smart enough not to steal it’s an easy fucking job. YOU make your job as easy or as hard as you want, or not have a job at all. Entirely up to you.
I’ve long ago stopped working harder because my coworkers are lazy fucks. I’m at social security age. I could actually collect it now. I was for almost two years but got off it when I went back to work following my stroke, jaw surgery, and pandemic. Trust me when I say big pharma wants me alive. I’m a total cash cow for them. They’ll battle social security.
Back when I was young and adorable without money cares, I wish someone would have told me then, “Save your money.” But I’m a Gen X’er. We didn’t save shit. We excessed until our hearts stopped beating at least twice, and if we survived at all we found ourselves suddenly 40 years old, beat down, broke and broken.
The worst thing I ever did in my adult life was give up my rent controlled apartment when I got married. I should never have gotten married, but I really shouldn’t have given up my apartment. Never give up your housing, ladies. Never. If you meet the love of your life, always have an exit strategy. “Forever” isn’t necessarily a lie, but it usually is. Downsize your house or rental if you must, but never give up your roof. Always have somewhere to go. I wish someone would have told me, “Look, I know you’re in love and getting married, but don’t give up your apartment. Seven years and rent control. Do not give up your apartment.” I know people who live in a really nice one and two bedroom apartment in Santa Monica, CA, minutes away from the ocean, paying under $1,000 a month each because of rent control.
When 2023 men complain about women having too much independence, it’s because THEY are the ones who never learned to be independent. Those men need women to survive, and you don’t need those men. Get a cat. I mean.
Holy shit where do I begin?
My boss recently acquired a second store from an old employee of hers who could not deal with it. My boss asked if I wanted to prep the walk-in at her second store this Friday and Saturday, my days off. (I just got back to the room I rent from there.) I like money. I didn’t have plans. I said yea sure. And then my boss proceeded to give me the wrong address. I’m standing outside the wrong restaurant like, uh, the doors are like, locked and stuff. The lights are off. Um? I text my boss and she says, “Oh no! I gave you the wrong address!” Yep, you sure did, lady! I got the correct address and headed over. I was happy to see a few people at the correct address I already knew from working with them in the past, so that was cool. While I was there a shift change happened - to a new cook who was pretty cool, but the new shift cashier was a young girl who was a total jagged pill. She fucked up an order right out the gate and got super stressed out. Look, boys and girls, life is too short to get stressed out over a fuck up. They happen. They still happen to me. Fuck ups will happen until the day you die. Some of us will die because we fucked up somewhere along the line that day. But yea, she turned out to be a total cunt-y pill. Oh to be young and not the least bit in control of our mental health and emotions. I got their walk-in prepped after 6 hours and left, but right as I was leaving “the pill” lost her shit again. Who knows why this time? Maybe she’s on the rag? I can say that because I’m a woman and I know from past million periods of yore I had rag-time moments where I made people run screaming for their lives.
Oh!
In case you’re wondering, he’s not in the bathroom anymore. 😂 Legend has it he'll be back in there tomorrow taking at least two, hour long showers.
Hey, I made another youtube reel (that Youtube turned into a short) of pics from my time in Arizona last Christmas.
YOUTUBE SHORT FROM TUCSON
Okay I take that back. My reel is cleaner on IG. You decide.
And the world moves on with or without us.
Sadly the U.S. Coast Guard informs us the missing Titan Sub likely imploded underwater. AFter all these years the Titanic still has a hold on us. What do you suppose the fascination is? Every nuance of the Titanic sinking has been explored, documented, romanticized in films, images captured, theorized, I mean, what’s left? And still, people need to see the wreckage. We love wreckage, sunken ships, doomed love, ruined beauty, hope lost, the end of mortality, suffering, so much so that humans are willing to end their own lives to understand death and ruin of others in the name of - whatever lie you want to tell yourself.
There were a few fires here in Las Vegas, also. Apartment buildings were sent into flames. One building was under construction. No occupants, thankfully. Any time this type of thing happens here my tingling Spidey senses tell me there was a business dispute that ended “the old fashion way” amIright? And here I am looking at apartments. Lets hope I do a better job this time than I did in 2018. For starters, I’m not downtown. Thank Jebus. What a dump downtown is.
I’m also at the new work location tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it. It’s in a local area with many things to do after work so that’s cool. I just might meet husband #2 still! I’ve reached that point where I’m checking out nice looking, well behaved, well put together, 30 year old men and asking them, “So how’s your father? Is he still alive, single and able to care for his own medical conditions?”
I just started to calm down after the bullshit that happened last night (scroll down to read about it) when my boss hit me up on chat and asked what happened. Truthfully, what happened is I scared the managers and yelled at a cook for attempted theft, that’s what happened. I explained it to her and now I’m worked up again. My boss understands. She gets it. She thanked me. But moreso I was standing up for myself. I don’t get paid to make food for my co-workers to steal. There are rules when working in the F&B industry (food and beverage industry) and those rules are silent rules but they apply everywhere you work. Theft happens in every restaurant. If not cash, then booze, and/or food and supplies. You can’t stop it. It’s going to happen. That’s silent rule #1. Silent rule #2 There is no honor among thieves. If you get caught stealing, you're going down by yourself. Your co-conspirators will throw you under the bus so fast those big fat wheels are up your ass in less than half a second. Silent rule #3 Know who the boss’s allies and friends are (HI! HOW YOU DOING?) idiots. Rule #4 Don’t do stupid shit like steal in front of us!
I’ve always wanted to write a book on the hospitality industry. I once told my dad I was going to do it, but my dad, who has heard it all from me over the years, most of it not good, said, “Don’t just write about the bad stuff. Write about good stuff too.” Um. What good stuff? Again, truthfully, this industry wrecks lives. Ends lives too. When Covid hit, the assholes who made it sound like only their establishment were the ones affected by it, made me lose all respect for them as human beings. All of us, the world, were affected by it.
Pandemic aside, this industry is hard as fuck, especially for morons.
Prep cooks work maybe 6 to 7 hours a day, 8 hours when the previous prep cook is drinking on the job and stocked absolutely nothing. A prep’s shift ends before the following morning shift begins. We prep for the day ahead, not the current one. So when people try to steal our “tomorrow” inventory, we lose it. I totally lost it! And here’s where being a drunk, or a drug addict, or a moron definitely does not help you, because you could basically try to steal (if you were that kind of person) inventory from the day behind and very few people would give a shit including me. Day old food, meh, you could try to steal it and maybe 70% of the time I wouldn’t even notice it gone. I make all new (everything) every day. Stuff from yesterday I don’t really concern myself with. But no, people don’t want that. They want “fresh” and “new”. Now permit me to wax a little wisdom on what “fresh” means in the F&B industry. “Fresh” brewed coffee is coffee that is brewed from actual coffee beans, stored and cooled, and then turned into specialty coffee. That “Fresh” brewed coffee has a shelf life of 48 hours. And co-workers, not other cooks, bless their hearts, think I’m making “Fresh” cold brew coffees because the pitchers of brewed coffee are still wrapped up tight in their seal. There’s even a date-sticker on the pitcher that says when the coffee was brewed and when it expires, but do my co-workers read the expiration sticker? No, of course not. They wait for me to pop open that “Fresh” brewed coffee sealant to make the cold coffees of their choice. Never no mind that, again, they know where the walk-in is, they know how to make the coffee, but they don’t want to pop open a seal and re-wrap it, because that’s too much work. Instead, they wait for me to pop open the seal. HOWEVER, the cold brew coffee that is open already at the front of the house (front of the restaurant) doesn’t appeal to them because it’s not “Fresh”. Are you fucking kidding me here?? That cold brew and the cold brew I just popped open have the same expiration date. I know, I put it on both goddamn pitchers. Just because I pop open a sealant does not make the coffee any fresher than the coffee that’s open. It’s the same goddamn coffee. One just has a sealant on it to keep walk-in debris from falling in. That’s all. But people are convinced that if you pop open a non-carbonated liquid it’s “Fresh” compared to the exact same thing that was popped open three hours prior from the exact same source, with the exact same liquid compound and ingredients.
This is how little people know about food and drinks. Sealants are placed over food and drinks more so to keep debris off of it. That’s what we mean by “Fresh”.
*Open pitchers have sealants also, they're called lids. Different name. Same purpose.
The pretzel they just put into the warmer is the exact same pretzel that’s been in the warmer for the last 30 minutes. It came from the exact same box of frozen goddamn pretzels. It’s not “Fresh” it’s simply hotter.
This is why most cooks are assholes.
If I was good at social media, which I’m not because after I entertain you here I’ve got other things to do, but if I was good at social media, whooooo would my channel be popular among my work kin folk. Not so much with the customers unless you have a sense of humor. But whoooooo!
I almost threw a cook into the dumpster last night at work. Almost. Little fuck. In the last three nights I made 80 specialty salads. 80. I have a food prep quota of what's expected of me to have prepared for the shift ahead. There is no way in hell my place sold that many specialty salads. By the way, that’s hand washed, hand chopped lettuce, hand cut vegetables, handmade everything. 80! In total it took about four hours to make. And while I do get paid to make those salads, I don’t get paid to make food for my co-workers to steal, AND I have a ton of other shit to do! 80 specialty salads in three nights? Odd, not at all likely, but okay. I let it roll the first two nights. That is, until last night when I caught one of the cooks trying to snake out of the restaurant with 8 of the large salads I just fucking made! After I busted him he had the nerve to say, “What? You have plenty of salads left. What’s the big deal? Just make more.” – JUST MAKE MORE! I have a quota and other shit to do, asshole! I came (this close) to having a mugshot last night!
So as you can imagine war broke out in the kitchen. You want to steal food from the restaurant, (one) don’t make my job harder doing it, (two) make it yourself! There’s a prep counter, there’s the prep sink, you know where the walk-in is, take your little knife, make it your goddamn self! I legit almost took that little fucker out. And as that little shit tried stealing my salads he was giggling about it like a little girl AS IF I would be okay with it! Are you fucking high?! No, of course not. People who are high don’t want SALADS!
*You can have the salads and be thrown in the dumpster, or you can put those salads back! Of course he put those salads back. A word of wisdom boys and girls, of all the Asians DO NOT fuck with the Koreans. Just don’t do it. Time won’t heal those wounds. Time, god, and love, will never heal those wounds.
I work with that cook again on Sunday. Motherfucker. I have had it. Just fucking had it. I’m BEYOND sick and tired. I’m fed up. And you know when women are fed up, black eyes and nosebleeds are being handed out! Who wants some!
Awesome! Thank you. I needed a laugh. 🥹
So my boss took on a second location and asked if I wanted to prep there on Friday and Saturday. I originally kept those days off thinking “Oh I might meet someone with a normal work schedule and at least we would have Friday and Saturday nights together” but that never happened, so I said yes. Bring on the extra money! But that also means I’m looking at apartments easily accessible to this legally blind stroke survivor. The second location is also in Summerlin (proper) and so I’m looking at apartments on Sahara.
Sahara ave. is one of those streets that’s nice when you’re on the west side, by my work, but a complete dumpster fire on the east side going towards Palace station. Where’s the dumpster fire starting point? South Jones?
Wednesday I’m just going to run around looking at neighborhoods all day.
Hello boys and girls. Where should we start? That I had to brush my teeth at work today because the dude I share a bathroom with is always in the goddamn bathroom. And when he is in there he legit splashes water all over the freakin’ place (and I swear to you sometimes his urine too) I mean he splashes water all over the mirror, the floor, and the sink counter has an inch of water on it always. What TF do you men do in there with the water?! Seriously. And then at work I come to find the lady who is there when I’m not - is drunk on the job and today it definitely showed. Look…
It’s not hard, boys and girls. Come to work when you were hired to come to work. Do the job you agreed to do when you were hired. Don’t do drugs or be drunk on the job. Why are these three simple things so hard for people?
Also…
What the serious fuck do you men do in the bathroom with all that water?!
According to my emails I’m a married white female who has an excellent male photographer.
Um. No, goddamnit, but… thank you? I'm the photographer!
I do my own stunts. Why do men think it’s so hard to put an iphone on a tripod, shoot 10 minutes of video and screen grab what you like? That’s literally how I take my own photos. You can call me white and married, you would be wrong of course, but goddamnit, I take my own photos. That is the one thing men say to me, repeatedly, that irritates me to no end.
I’m going to make a coffee table book on my cloud obsession. I've decided. It will be one more thing men will think other men helped me to make and be completely wrong about.
It will be my test run publishing-project for when I publish the book I’m writing about crazy people.
When I got divorced I’m the one who moved out. All I asked from my husband was for HALF the deposit for a new apartment I estimated at $1600, so $800. He could keep everything. I just wanted out of the marriage. I had a job. I worked. I had some money saved. I just needed a little extra for the deposit. We could buy a cheap divorce package from the courthouse and file the divorce ourselves since we didn’t have any children. And my husband said no. Instead, he hired an attorney, took me to court four times, and dragged out the divorce for two years. Because that made more sense to him. This is how many men think in America. Instead of doing the reasonable thing the first time even if it means a sudden loss but a better deal in the long run, some men, many men, would rather drag things out to see if a better deal can’t be made.
Instead of giving Ukraine the F-10’s when Zelenskyy asked for them over a year ago to aid ending the war with Russia, America said “Naaaa, lets wait and see if this war doesn’t end itself.” Because that’s what Americans men do.
When I told my divorce lawyer, who happens to be English, that all I wanted from my husband was $800 and a divorce, my lawyer was in such shock that my husband refused to pay the $800 and sign divorce papers - the lawyer sat behind his desk and stared at me for like five minutes before shaking out of his legal brain coma. “And he refused to pay it??” My lawyer asked all confused before twisting back into the legal brain coma from whence he came for another five minutes. Lawyers must hear a lot of stupid things but I do believe this one broke my attorney a little.
I still to this day have no idea what the reasoning behind my ex-husband’s decision to go the long legal route getting divorced but god bless him, through a judge I got alimony and half of his 401K.
Trump
DeSantis
Biden
My point is this, thinking is not really a strong point for a lot of you fellas.
Next time, let the dude in the war being attacked by Russia, do the military thinking for his country.
Level 1: “Knotty means you like being tied up.”
Level 10: “That’s totally not what knotty means, bro.”
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I mean, who can you believe if:
AND ANOTHER THING
If we hung out (once) over three years and two states ago and you had no interest in hanging out again, why do you then keep texting me to see “What’s new” with me? I get there are people who do useless things but please do not include me in them. I’m busy doing things. I don't feel the need to update you in a private text especially since you had no interest in hanging out with me again which is totally your prerogative. No worries. But have ya heard I have a blog only for the past 10 years that will keep you updated on all the dailies. FFS lose my phone number will ya. You, and that irritating woman in Los Angeles who keeps calling me at 5am with a shitty job offer. Seriously lady, if you can’t hang on to your crew for even two weeks that’s a you problem.
I hope that the Uber driver who just dropped me off never picks me up again. Holy shit. FIRST OF ALL, he said he had been driving for 16 hours! Are you people in-fucking-sane?! I can’t think of anything I want to do for money for 16 goddamn hours. “How do you stay alert enough to drive?” I innocently ask. To which he got super offended and snidely replied, “How do you stay awake at your job?” To which I replied, “I get off work after eight hours.” And then he said, “Well 16 hours is a short shift for me. I usually drive for 20 hours per shift.”
Dear Uber, lemme ask you something. Ya think your drivers are alert enough after 20 hours on the road non-stop? Who do my brothers sue when your driver jack-knifes off the road taking out a few other cars with him?
The Uber car was tense after that little fubar social exchange so I said, “I’m glad to be going home. After 8 hours on my feet I just want to die.” To which he snidely replied, “Well that’s a pretty intense thing to say.”
Jesus (fucking) (mother) (fuck) (fucking) Christ!
Allow me to translate that into human speak.
“Wow, after 8 hours on my feet I just want to die.”
If you’re female your response would be “Gurrrrrrrl!”
If you’re (any other) male your response would be, “I hear ya.”
Both mean the exact same thing.
“Well that’s a pretty intense thing to say” is something a person says after they’ve been driving Uber for 16 hours and are hallucinating giant flying monkeys while driving down a yellow brick road to meet a geriatric honky wizard!
Oh! I saw my first suburban street hooker yesterday walking with a male escort. As I was walking to Target, a couple also walking passed me on the sidewalk. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw this was no ordinary morning walk for them. He was wearing what you would expect to see a guy wearing going for a walk at 8am, but she was not. She had her long black hair down to her waist, full on red lipstick, Gucci style sunglasses, a tiny crop halter top, a (mini) mini tennis skirt that did not cover her completely, and tennis shoes with little babydoll bootie socks with ruffles. If she wasn’t a hooker, then she and her boyfriend were playing some weird sex roleplay game which they should not have been doing at 8am on a Saturday in the suburbs where kids are.
I have no problem with adults doing whatever consenting adults want to do BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.
All’s I’m saying is, cover your vagina out in public.
And then I stopped at the grocery store. I quit eating low sodium sunflower seeds since my feet were blowing up. I figured even a little extra sodium could be too much. I also wear pressure socks again. But because I stopped eating sunflower seeds I’m constantly searching for healthy crunch snacks and needed a bag of carrots.
There are/have been four generations of my family in Minnesota. We were raised around Minnesota pioneers. I can always tell old Minnesotans from new ones. New ones, meaning people who moved to Minnesota after 1990-something. Twenty years prior however I never knew crime, or hatred, or starvation, or anything nefarious. The most criminal activity in the neighborhood came from my house! As I’ve been writing about, have written about, scroll down, most of the neighborhood misery came from my brothers mom. We were the white trash of the neighborhood. Thank god I was young and adorable. The neighbors liked me. They felt bad for me and wanted to help me any way they could. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “Stay with us. Finish high school. We’ll take care of you.” But that’s what old school Minnesotans do. They take care of their own. I have binge listened to almost 3 years of Dateline. Holy shit. Between Dateline, Forensic Files, Snapped, Cold Case File, First 48, To Catch a Predator, I had NO idea things were this bad in our country. None. I come from a place where we didn’t lock our doors until 10pm. And by 8am they were wide open again.
People will say, “Well that’s YOUR generation.” Uh-huh. But don’t you want that for YOUR generation? Wouldn’t you like it if your kids had safe streets to peddle their bikes on anytime they want without the risk of abduction?
Do you know what the difference is? What I honestly believe the difference is? Hard work. People weren’t afraid to work for love. They weren’t afraid to work to keep the heat on in the winter. Work was a great thing to have. People wanted to work - for everything. Now there’s so much entitlement for nothing. They’re not even doing anything yet want demand entitlement.
You need to beat your kids when they run around all feral in grocery stores. Seriously. Gen X’ers were feral but WE were feral out in the woods!
Women in their 40's doing stupid shit like having sex with 20 year olds need to go back being shamed like,"That weirdo lady who wears too much eye shadow."
Alcoholism, porn, cos play sex, all need to go back to things you do behind closed doors. That way it's a "in the know" club like back in the day.
Generations need to fight it out in their own arena. Gen X'ers battled the shit out of each other! Pummeled each other, passive aggressive, out earn, out live, out - everything!
20 and 30 year old men need to be told “No” until they figure out how to earn a “Yes” with black eyes, split lips, and bloody knuckles.
Here, I'll help you.
No.
No.
No.
Absolutely not.
No.
But until then, Dateline season 32, I guess?
Have I been wearing my pressure socks, nope. But I’m going to go back wearing them. My new Gen X struggle is fluid build up in my feet and lower legs. By the time I come home from work my feet and lower legs swell up like circus balloons. Poor circulation. I go to bed, wake up, and the fluid is gone. My feet and lower legs are back to normal. But by midnight you could use my feet as kink floaties for some pervert's pool party. I’m supposed to wear pressure socks 8 hours a day. I’ve been flaking on it. My bad. Balloon feet are a reminder to wear them. Aaah old age.
This is why old people have cats, dogs, hamsters, because really, who wants to deal with old people problems unless you’re getting paid? I won’t even go to the strip even if I’m offered to be paid. Convenience and comfort over desire. Every single time now.
Because of the Vegas heat I worked the graveyard shift. Not that it gets any better after the sun goes down come August, but it beats having the sun barreling down on you in addition to 110 degrees. But a month or so ago my work hired a new guy named Jason, to also work the graveyard shift, and Jason just creeps me the fuck out. He’s always staring at me, I mean always. He finds any excuse to be in my prep area, and since I stopped working the graveyard shift (because of him!) and changed to the swing shift, I only see Jason now for about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, and he’s always mumbling “cunt” under his breath when he sees me! Holy shit. Freaky motherfucker.
My friend in LA wrote me the sweetest Rover testimonial. I’ve watched his kitty snuggles, and have fallen madly in love with them. Mad, I say.
That's Alice. I found a Youtube channel for cats. She never saw a mouse until I played that Youtube video. She's a total sweetpea!
And that's Arlo. Handsome little devil.
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I love their white paws!
Alongside cats I also listed I would care for 1-15 pound doggies. I miss having a dog to walk with, play with, brush, bathe, and snuggle with. I'm not into big dogs so much. I had them when I was a kid but they were security watch dogs. A Dobie/Lab and a German Shepard. I didn't bond with them.
I'm just crazy for this breed of dog, Jack Russel Terrier. I want one. The perfect size housemate!
Look'a the face!
Rover does thorough background checks so that's where I'm at right now. They're doing a background check. I know some people are like pro dog walkers and take on like 12+ dogs a day but this is my side hustle. One or two dogs a day is perfect for me.
Look'a the face! Check out that milkshake. 😂
If I had a farm I would get like 3 of these dogs and two goats. Plus a few cows and a ton of hens! Just hens for the eggs. Corn, grain, and eggs. That would be my farm. The cows and goats would be pets. The hens would be pets too. Pets that make eggs. Oh! And ducks!
Dare to dream.
Is this little boy your son? These 20 year old BOYS need to man up and make it work with women their own age. 20 year old males who seek sex with women old enough to be their mothers are why men are failing America. They are the reason America is failing.
America needs its men to bleed and sweat for its country. And you sharpen man skills by conquering your own generation. When 20 your old males think older women will care for their needs into his 20’s and 30’s, for fuck sake (literally!) they don’t become men, they become subservient, lazy, and utterly useless.
OK well let me see if I understand this correctly, In order to work for the Allegiant Stadium, I have to pay $85 to get fingerprinted, and $129 to expedite the fingerprinting processing if I want to start work within the two to three weeks it takes to process my fingerprints otherwise, none of which my potential employer will reimburse?
And Vegas wonders why it’s hard finding people to work for them. Can the mob just go back to running Vegas please? And thank you.
“With a court affidavit the transfer of property can occur after death without going through probate.”
So Sheldon’s Will may not go through probate?
I just can’t see how Sheldon would allow his niece to take hold of his place without first settling things with his cat Mikey. If Mikey is still living in the house as his niece sells it off, that means Mikey hasn’t been re-housed yet. And if I understand this correctly, the person entrusted with Mikey may not be notified for up to three months?
I’m trying to find the executor to Sheldon’s will. I searched online. I paid $5 to search the LACourt.org website for Sheldon’s will probate but the search came up empty. So either Sheldon filed under another county, or his will just hasn’t gone into probate yet which doesn’t make sense to me because his niece is already trying to sell off his place. How is that possible? How long does it take to get death certificates?
Anyway…
So then I found an email address and emailed the courthouse directly with an inquiry as to where else I might search to find the executor. Bottom line, regardless, I need to go to Los Angeles. I know Sheldon did in fact die. I found his memorial page on the Mount Sinai website. So then I turned to Youtube…
Are y’all telling me that even with a will executor, who is also an attorney, it still takes a month or so for a judge to sign off on the death certificate/s and validate the will? So how is his greedy niece able to sell off his place already?
Couldn't the attorney executor just use funds from Sheldon's bank to pay whatever amount Sheldon instructed for Mikey's care?
I don't get how his niece is able to sell off his place before filing probate with the courthouse?
The good news is, there's an order of smaller items on the will needing to be signed off on by both recipient and judge, before the bigger things on the will can be signed off on. So again, how is his niece able to put his property up for sale so fast?
Just give me the cat.
Sheldon had a will, and for whatever reason I’m still in it.
Vicki had no will, and for whatever reason I’m still legally bound to her. Shackles around my neck!
Have a will, boys and girls. Preferably a living will. Appoint an executor. Keep your will updated.
KEEP YOUR WILL UPDATED. Jeesusfuckingchrist.
Holy shit. Where do I begin?!
When I was a little girl, my dad had my brothers mom adopt me so I would have two parents on file in the event of an emergency. In the event my dad died. Who could have predicted then what a fucking loony toon nutjob this crazy bitch would turn out to be?! So just before my seventeenth birthday my dad drew up legal papers for the certifiable whackadoo hag to sign dissolving her parental rights of me. Which everyone assumed she did and had at least one of the lawyers between them file with the courthouse. Well guess what? Plot twist! Now that she’s dead, the lawyer for her estate cannot find the papers, cannot find any legal papers aside from her divorce papers. Meaning it’s entirely possible I’m still her fucking child. Meaning ⅓ of her estate is possibly mine. I’m going to have a heart attack. No, this is the real deal. It’s fucking happening.
I told my brother immediately when he called me last week with the news of his mom dying that I wanted NOTHING from that whackjob, and I meant it.
I can’t even begin to tell you how CRAZY this whole thing is. But why should it surprise me? WHY? She’s never been able to do a single thing by herself EVER. Sign a document, hand it over to one of the goddamn lawyers between her and our dad and she said NOPE. NOT GONNA. Too hard for her. My brother called me today and said it might cost more money in attorney fees to get out of being legally bound to ⅓ of her estate. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!
My brothers talked. They want me to take the money. Whatever the third is after lawyers and taxes, they want me to have it.
My heart is throbbing in my chest right now. I can’t get rid of this fucking woman!
Don’t say you don’t learn anything from this blog. We’ve covered divorces, strokes, jaw surgery, and now it seems we’ve reached the part of our program where we learn about wills.
And I was feeling so good when I woke up this morning. I really was. I made my peace with Sheldon’s death. My brothers were responsible for Vicki’s death. I was going to be productive today, and now, I can’t get off this gooddamn roller coaster. This goddamn fucking piece of shit roller coaster.
Agreed, that said, I ain’t winning this one. Pick your battles.
A post from my girlfriend back in Minnesota.
Back in 2013’ish, when I was getting divorced, Sheldon asked me if I would adopt Mikey in the event of his death and will him to me. I said of course. We hoped that wouldn’t be the case obviously, Sheldon and Mikey loved each other, we hoped they would be together for the rest of Mikey’s life. But in the event of, Sheldon said he would make certain in his will that Mikey and I would be cared for - for the rest of Mikey’s life. So like maybe 12 years at that time? I have no idea how Sheldon summed up the math on Mikey’s life, but he said he would make certain Mikey would have a roof over his head and all the treats in the world if I would only love and promise to care for him.
*in 2013 Mikey would have been like 1+. Average cat lifespan is like what, 13 to 14 years?
Look…
I have to emotionally distance myself from Mikey, from all of this, because if the lawyer cannot get ahold of me then it all falls back into the legalese of his will, and back into the pit of snakes the vultures otherwise known as his friends and family.
I pray the universe works it out with Mikey, the only innocent in this whole entire shit storm.
*Add to that, Mikey is a senior cat now. A senior cat whose owner just died. What a shit storm.
I know. I know. It’s been a week. I have to just let it be. I hope kitty is either loved and cared for, or put out of his misery as swift as possible. I don’t want little Mikey locked in a cage at the animal shelter. Pedro says Sheldon’s supposed friends are taking care of him but no one will take him in. And then what happens after Sheldon’s niece sells the place. What happens to Mikey then?
Nope. No.
Just please universe, see that this little boy isn’t locked in a cage that’s all I ask.
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