New Jersey - only the strong survive.

We went to Red Lobster for dinner tonight. I'd forgotten that some restaurants use silverware and serve your meal on a plate.
I had shrimp and bacon-wrapped scallops in a peach bourbon BBQ sauce. Way too good. And way too much food. I put on 4 pounds.

Took my dad for a brief ride in Gerta this afternoon, staying on neighborhood streets because I don't have brake lights until the new switches come. He spent almost the entire time with a grin on his face. When we got back to the house my mom asked if the car was always that loud. Only when it's running. In fact, I read in a discussion on the VW site about muffler choices that if you want a quiet Beetle just turn the key one notch to the left.

Watched the men's curling just before lunch. My mom doesn't appreciate that one, either. Maybe that's where I get my ADD.

I worked at a rental this morning for a guy in San Diego who bought four houses here three years ago, sight unseen, to run as rentals. Two of his buddies did the same thing, each of them cleaning out their savings, cashing in their retirement accounts and taking a second on their houses so they could get in on the incredible housing market here. Unfortunately, an unscrupulous real estate agent talked them into something they had no business doing. They bought at the top of the market and within months everything had crashed.

Through a common connection I worked for all three of these guys doing repairs on their rentals. One by one, as their adjustable rate mortgages reset, they lost their houses to repossession. This is the last of the three and this is the last of the houses. It has been empty for over six months, the bank auction is March 17th, and he is in the middle of bankruptcy.

I worked there this morning cleaning up months of weeds. The Home Owners' Association sent him a nasty letter requiring that he get the place cleaned up or pay fines. I don't understand why he worried about it since he's in bankruptcy but he said his lawyer told him he should have it done. So he paid me for a couple of hours of work to take care of it.

I've done this same clean-up at his other houses, each of them empty and each in the foreclosure process. When he calls me to arrange the work he sounds so pitiful, so broken. Here's a nice guy who works in a factory, paid his bills on time and played the roll of average joe just fine. A smooth talking agent convinced him he could leave all of that behind and join the ranks of the wealthy, never having to work another day in his life. Just collect rent checks, watch the houses appreciate 20% per year, and sell them for a big profit when he wanted to cash out.

I've been thinking about stuff lately. Every once in awhile I get a bug to own something really nice, luxurious. Some bling. Fancy car, leather jacket (OK, not real practical in Phoenix), trick home entertainment system. Then I get a call from Don in San Diego and have dinner with my family.

There's a lot to be said for the mean life.