You've been served

So today i got the letter back from the sheriff's department; the summons that was supposed to be served to this guy i am taking to court was unsuccessful. The officer went three times and couldn't get in. The little weasel changed the name on the front listing, and supposedly, the intercom was broken.

Since i had nothing better to do and i have no full time job to go to, i decided to go hunting. It's important to note that it's not really about the money, he only owed me $160 for some freelance flash work; the problem was that this guy was coky from the start and threatened me if tried to pursue this issue. So for the heck of it, and to get an education in the american judicial system, i decided to take him to court and see how this all works. Also, i escalated the claim amount to $800, which was five hours of actual work and then doubled to make up for damages and wasted time. I don't expect all of it, i will just let the judge decide what is fair.

I first stopped by the courthouse in Santa Monica to find out what were my options. Basically, there are 4 ways to do it. You have the sheriff serve it for you, you mail it in certified but that is crap cause he needs to be willing to send the confirmation back which no one would want to do, then you can use a special third party courier service, or you can do it yourself by finding someone who is willing to serve the summons for you who isn't related to the case and is at least 18.

Knowing the dude was hiding from the cops, i decided to go to to this place, listed as his place of work and do some little digging. I got there, in Venice somewhere, near Broadway and Venice Blvd; it's a very cute neighborhood, a wonderful sunny and laid back place. So i get to the apartment complex and sure enough, the name listed is not his, it's something like Vanderbuilt and it has a cast iron gate, seventeen inches wide. All you can do in these circumstances is be patient and wait for someone to walk out. After trying to convince a local contractor to serve it for me, and failing miserably, i returned to the gate and waited some more. Finally a nice blonde girl opened the door and told me where the landlord lived. I knocked on her door for quite a while until she appeared, she had been sleeping and was visibly not used to being up this early. She was very nice and helpful, she told me the guy i was looking for was a pest and they wanted to get rid of the guy, everyone around hated his guts and that i would have a lot of luck trying to serve him by talking to a man in the complex who would be more than willing to serve him the papers.

Unfortunately, he was not home so i decided to go have breakfast and explore the area, and return later to see if he was home and possibly arrange something. I went to very good breakfast joint and had a half pesto sandwhich. Trying to be as slow as possible, i finish the darn thing in 2 minutes and went back to the apartment complex to try to get this puppy wrapped, so i could file it with the court on the way back to Westwood.

Sadly enough, the guy hadn't returned by the time i got there so i decided to leave my info with the landlord and return the next day.

And so i did.

I got up early, watched my wonderful Jon Stewart and Colbert from the previous night, and darted to Venice. I first got the same breakfast i had gotten the day before; pesto chicken bobo sandwich with fresh marinated red peppers and basil, with a cheese danish, and a tofu muffin. The muffin was pretty lame but the sandwich was great.

I returned to the apartment, this time carefully trying to avoid a $50 street cleaning ticket. I went straight to go see the manager but she greeted me with bad news in that the guy was not willing to get involved and i would have to find another way to server this guy.

Push came the shove, and i decided this would be an interesting little challenge to see if i could get a random person to help me out, and make a very quick buck in the process. I walked a for good fifteen minutes without finding a single soul i could ask. That's when i decided to enact plan a, which came to me yesterday, and ask one of the construction workers at the house around the corner. I did just that and met a cool white dude who was really melo and totally willing to hook me up. I explained to him the situation and it sounded good enough that he came along.

We walked across the street, got into the apartment, and knocked on the open door; they were not coming to the door, they must have been warned because we yelled and pounded for a while. As a filmmaker of some sort, i decided to film the entire event to supplement the pictures i had taken of the guy's car, apartment complex, and his fake intercom listing.

Obviously, they were not coming to the door, so we decided to call it the day and we finalized the court paper and i left it with the landlord.

Not quite the explosive ending to a juicy pursuit, but it is only the beginning. The court appearance and the garnishing of wages should be a real party!

How I cried Tonight

Seeing myself asleep was comforting, on the side clutching the sleeping bag.

It is funny how you float, seeing yourself from many vantage points but feeling the emotions of another state all at the same time.

All this to say that it was serene and I could enjoy the calm.

Suddenly, out of the corner of the eye that wasn't looking at the door in my back, I saw my killer running towards me with the determination to seal the deal.
It seemed like his pace accelerated to an impossible speed as he got closer to me, all the while brandishing the object of my fate, a shiny blade.
This seemed to take an eternity, but what took place in a flash was the rescue, the rescue that He, my savior, undertook to save me.

He came from behind my executioner and in one sweeping punch, those that are impossible to perform under normal conditions, but that do come together at the crucial moment, knocked him out cold.
The killer, incapacitated, on the ground, was at that moment, robbed from the breath of life and was no longer a threat.
Tears started pouring down my face, it wasn't a jitter of fear that woke me, but the watery cheeks that testified to the risk that someone you loved would do in such a circumstance.

In the shadow of my vision, I could see him looking at me with concern, just like your big brother, who is not, looks at you worried that you would get hurt if he was not there to help you. Reading into that stare, you know that no matter what, he would be responsible for you, that selfless devotion. This is what makes one cry, not the fear of death, not an inevitable event, but the true manifestation of love to such a degree. The fact that someone would even risk their life for you is what speaks louder than words.

He is still there with me, always.

Emptied pockets

So guess what? What costs 740 dollars only in America?

A deep clean at the dentist.

That is what i had to spend for a cleaning that costs $80 dollars everywhere else in the world. The only good thing about that is that I only paid 50 of it thanks to my insurance. As I walked out of the shameless joint I realized I paid for the dentist jaguar payment for this month.

Oh well, such is life in America where only the rich can have nice teeth.

Economic racism. Anyway, you just have to go elsewhere for help; France is the answer, abuse the system.

Oh and, I also have 4 cavities, and I need a crown, an antibacterial treatment and a life. All that will cost me about 2 grand so I will just get dentures.

Ciao and floss !