Journal Jmz

I fuckin' 'ate Pikeys
It took me three viewings of that movie to understand pretty much all of what Brad Pitt said. Similarly, the "Ing-da-da-ding" guy is apparently the auctioneer that all the cool kids can understand. Billy got to hear him today. The guy's amazing. I went up to the West Palm Beach Auto Auction today to maybe buy a car and definitely learn. It's much nicer, the people are more polite, there's free bottled water, and a golf cart to drive you from your car to the auction. It's good stuff. But it's 55 miles away. So I won't be driving there too too much. Tri-Rail maybe. Anyway, I didn't buy any cars, because of the diciness in getting them to my shop, until I confirmed Tri-Rail would work (did you know you're allowed to take cars on it?), so I spent most of the time trying to understand "Ing," as I shall subsequently call him. Not only the fastest talking person I've ever heard, but also with a southern accent.

Then later on I had to go to the auction in Davie to pay a fee, and he was there, too. Only one lane running (closed to independents), and it was him. He also opens that auction on Tuesday and Friday, and does the CarMax auction. I don't wanna piss Ing off, that's for sure. He's the "featured auctioneer," and he's damn everywhere.

The hoopty is gone. The lady who co-bought the car acted like every paper I gave her to sign was trying to elimate her suffrage or seize her estate (which consists, it would seem, of a 93 Camry and a cane, plus the pen I gave her). I didn't mind that she insisted on reading them all, but she wanted to argue with me about arbitration agreement and the bill of sale. Yeah, I know, car dealers. Always with the suffrage. Anyway, she was a pain in the ass. And now I have to get her to sign something else, because I forgot it. I'm not happy about that. When I send customers away, I don't want to see them again. Unless of course it's for a payment.

Bitch, where's my money?

Current Mood: wicked exhausted

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