Lost In Translation

You Have Got To Be Kidding

noreply@blogger.com (South40) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 23:16:00 +0000

My neighbor had "an issue" to put it mildly, last night with the former owner of the park. Law enforcement was needed and 911 called.
45 minutes to an hour passed before the local sheriff finally showed up. (As you know we are high priority out here.) The first guy that showed up was not a foreigner to our area and at least knew how to get here.
The second guy who showed up 10 to 15 minutes later admitted fully he had no clue about this area, his beat was usually in the King City area. (That explains the tom tom map showing up on his dashboard computer).
Okay what happened to Officer White? The guy who usually comes out here on Saturday's beat?
"They gave him a different beat tonight." was the answer.
So how come it took so long to get out here after the neighbor called you?
"Well when you dial 911 it doesn't go to the Sheriff's dispatch it goes to the C.H.P's dispatch. Then they have to call the sheriff's dispatch who finally call us out in the field. Which can take up to 10 to 15 minutes. And you guys are so far out it takes us time to get here." was the answer.

You have got to be kidding.

What about the sheriff's sub station in the village? You know the one next to the cafe/donut shop?
A slight chuckle was the response.
Well at least the sheriff will actually show up. The only time I have seen the C.H.P out here is when they are "just pass'n through".
Maybe the store should start selling donuts.

The Local Cachagua Rednecks

noreply@blogger.com (South40) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 03:56:00 +0000

Apparently the local rednecks out here think that because the lived out here before the rest of us folks, or at least that's what they believe (my family has lived in this area for four generations), that gives them the right to act like they are the local law enforcement.
I did not move back out here for them, I did not move out here for them to like me.

For example when it was brought up at a Cachagua Community Park meeting that quite a few dogs were and still are roaming freely around the local park, unleashed and unsupervised while their dumb ass owners play horse shoes, that parents and children who play in the park were concerned about safety. And they have good reason too. I have witnessed many times dogs running up and chasing cars and even the school bus as it comes in to drop children off at the after school program.
One would have thought hell froze over by the pleasant reaction the board members expressed. "It's always been a dog friendly park."
Contrary to the "selected few's" belief out here DOGS ARE NOT ROYALTY! The park was not placed there for the use of every one's lame ass dog(s) to run a muck as they please so they could go drink beer and smoke pot while playing horse shoes. The park was placed there for the families of the community out here to use. Garland Park is where you take your dog to run a muck for there is no playground there, no family picnic/b.b.q area, and there is no school located within the park.
It was also brought up at one of the meetings that a stronger effort to include more of the Spanish population that live out here to attend events, meeting etc. should be made. Such publishing event signs in Spanish and so on. This happened for one maybe two meetings then the effort slouched off. (After all such things would take money away from the Horseshoe Tournament for the dumb ass rednecks.)

Well apparently after all this was laid out in the open bitter enemies were made between my spouse, who at the time was the vice president of the park, and the redneck president of the park, (who's dog is one of the guilty ones). For later he asked my husband "why in the hell did you move out here? Nobody wants you out here. Nobody likes you out here."

News flash Mr. Fancyass Parkman not many people like your drunk ass either.

After a few more cold shoulder meetings my spouse resigned from the board, it was really pointless position anyway, for they were never interested in having some one voice ideas and opinions they just wanted the position filled.

Several weeks after all this took place graffiti such as "fuck Mexicans" began to appear around the community. More than likely written by the same assholes who hang out with Mr. Fancyass Parkman and do donuts in the store parking lot at 2:00 a.m. along with driving through the local creek bed in front of my house to do burnouts on the embankments. And low and behold guess what's in their front yards?! A horseshoe pit.
I am not saying that all people who play horse shoes are rednecks or assholes. Just the ones who live out here. For they have yet to show me otherwise. Today was no exception.

After driving through the creek bed in broad daylight, my spouse had enough. My children as well as other children play in the creek bed. The creek bed is for the creek not some dumb ass's 4x4. There are plenty of places away from the neighborhood out here to 4x4. It is Cachagua after all.
Now the group was up hanging out at the Cachagua Store when my spouse found them. He told them to quit driving through the creek bed in front of our house. A few words were exchanged but everything was cool in the end.
Until one of the drunk assholes decided to stick up for his buddies by grabbing a rock and swinging it at my spouse several times yelling "that's my bro you're talk'n too!". It was obvious the man was drunk and my spouse warned him several times not to do that. By then his buddies had grabbed him and then the man's mother, who was working at the store, came running out demanding that my husband "go home". "Your new here and should go home."

Whoa wait a minute here. It's her dumb ass boy out there swinging the rock.

It's called assault with a deadly weapon!

He's the one who should leave the area, he's out there trying to assault people, but I could see how hard that could be with all his buddies grabbing him and holding him down.

New here?
Hell lady my family was here before Carmel Valley had a damn zip code!

It's dumb ass rednecks like them that the rest of the peninsula base their opinion of Cachagua on. Now I understand why the sheriff said he "hates coming out here". It's dumb childish redneck shit like that gives our community a bad wrap.

C.H.P Can't Handle People!

noreply@blogger.com (South40) — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 06:33:00 +0000

A friend of my got picked up by the Sheriff over the weekend on a warrant that no one knew existed, except for the asshole CHP officer who issued it way back in April. Mind you it is now September. Now without going into great detail, basically the Rookie ASS CHP officer did not follow correct procedures when he dealt with my friend back in February when the "incident" occurred, and there fore was no doubt chewed out by his superior officer for being such a rookie ass cop. Trying to save face the cop made up some ridiculous bullshit charges and filed them, IN APRIL. Two months later!
If my friend was truly guilty of "assaulting" this officer, as the rookie ass cop claimed, most would have assumed he would have been arrested on the spot and hauled off to jail right then and there. (Hey I watch COPS. They do it every time.)
Anyway back to the story, my friend called and asked if I could help him out, but first I had to find out the booking number they gave him. I called the county jail "hot line" and was informed that the computer was down and to call back later....much later.
I later found out, by my friend, that an inmate who was tiered of waiting for his bunk after being in a holding cell for nearly 5 days, charged down the hallway and ran head first into the "booking computer" putting it permanently out of commission.
Appartly this computer had to be a state of the art fancy piece of government shit here because it even screwed up the automated telephone answering service. Which when finally fixed put you on hold for 15 minutes, listening to the same voice repeating over and over, stating "we are sorry but all operators are busy at this time, please continue to hold, your call will be answered shortly." After a quick cat nap the same voice finally answered the phone, I asked for the booking number and where my friend was bunked at...I got the number but my friend was still stuck in the holding cell (2 days after he got arrested).
Now I know jail is not meant to be comfortable or fun, it's jail for God's sake, but even the most sane of people would go nuts being locked up in a room the size of my bathroom with 15 of guys and a toilet in the middle of them for more than a few hours. Some poor smucks were in there for 5 days thanks to the dumb ass who busted the fancy computer!

Finally last night I went to pick up this friend who just got released out of the county jail. Now when you go to pick up an inmate who is getting out it's not like showing up and tada there they are waiting for you. No you have to park in the parking lot at the far end of the jail, which has no parking lights, and wait from 7:00 - 10:00 p.m. for your person to appear in what ever clothes they happened to arrive in the jail in. And there was some pretty odd looking dressed inmates coming out in anywhere from p.j's to business suits.
I kinda felt bad for some of these guys for who wouldn't call the cops on some strange guy wandering around the neighborhood in his p.j.'s or a fancy business suit in Salinas late at night?
For entertainment I had the joy of watching a local county sheriff guy pull up with four cups of Starbucks coffee's and head for the "secret" back door. He said something to the camera above the door and held up the coffee's as proof. Nothing happened. The officer then began fumbling around in his pockets for his keys, which he could not find. Finally and obviously pissed he smartly used the radio latched to his belt and demanded that the door be opened. Hearing there was coffee his follow officers rushed to greet him.
Shortly after this drama the first group of 3 newly released guys emerged from the same door. They hollered with joy and lit a cigarette in celebration of they're new found freedom. Then the realization of "what they hell do I do now?" looked passed over their faces as they wandered around the parking lot debating where to go and how to get there.
They did this for about thirty minutes until the next group of 3 guys came out. They too beamed with joy and lit a few cigs. until a plain clothed cop appeared at the door and told one of them to "Come here for a minute."
"Why?" the man asked not moving.
His buddies however must have known something was up because they magically moved across the parking lot in a matter of seconds, hopping in their rides awaiting them, and awaited the drama about to unfold.
"Just come here for a minute." the cop repeated, motioning back in the door for assistance.
Seeing this the dude did not hesitate, he turned and hauled ass across the parking lot with the cop giving chase yelling into his radio for back up.
One would have thought war had been declared as sheriffs magically appeared out of no where and everywhere.
It was like a swarm of killer bees descending from the hive, as literally 20 sheriff's, gripping there guns and yelling in their radios, came rushing out of the jail, searching madly for the poor sap, who was already tackled and cuffed, and didn't even make it more than 50 feet down the parking lot.
As they cuffed him and dragged him back to the jail I over heard him exclaiming "How can I have a warrant? I've been in jail!?"
Apparently that state of the art fancy piece of government shit computer forgot to inform the local sheriff of this guy's warrant. Even tho he'd been in jail for months. Kinda fucked up. Give a guy his freedom after months in a jail cell then rearrest his ass 30 seconds after he thinks he's finally served his time and is free.
Which explained the behavior of the next three guys they let out an hour later. Slowly the first guy pops open the door and scans the parking lot for any signs of more busy killer bee cops. Seeing the coast is clear they bolt from the door running, scanning the parking lot like deer caught in the headlights. Apparently these guys were so fearful of sharing the last guy's fate they didn't even take the time to finish belting their pants or tying their shoes as they ran awkwardly out towards the parking lot in a full out sweat. When they made it past the 25 foot border fence the first guy hollered with joy as he spotted his wife in the car awaiting him.
"Hey my car! Come on man before they change their minds!"
It took those three guys, who obviously did not starve in jail, two minutes to load up in the car and beat it out of there. Practically burning their back tires off as they left the parking lot. Careful boys..all you need is to get pulled over for speeding in the jail parking lot.
It was then that a morbid looking guy in a black doctor's outfit appeared out of the door pulling a suit case. The first thing he did was to lite a cigar from his pocket as he flip his stethoscope out of his way. This guy looked like Hannibal after he just broke out of his cell in Silence of the Lambs. Maybe that's why they sent him out by himself. I watched him, as I locked all my doors, wander around the parking lot as if awaiting someone to pick him up. Chatting shortly with the sheriff scoping out the cars in the parking lot for anything fishy.

Finally my friend appeared about 9:00 and walked right past the car. When I yelled at him he said didn't recognize it because "it looks clean".
Yeah thanks a fucking lot, it's a Cachagua car, but even people in Cachagua wash their cars once in a while. Just lite your damn cig and let's go. I've seen enough drama for one night.

This Week's Rant and Rave

noreply@blogger.com (South40) — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 23:56:00 +0000

My son broke his leg the first week of summer school. My son, when motivated, is not one to do things half ass and this was no exception. He broke both bones in his lower right leg and dislocated one off of the growth plate above the ankle.
The story I got was that he was running with a soccer ball in hand and some kid kicked his leg out from under him in order to trip him up and get the ball. According to the doc it was the kick that started the first break and the fall finish the rest of the breaks.
I'm no fricking genius, not by a long shot, but it is in my opinion that you have to kick someone pretty fricken hard in order to break their bone.
So naturally the school called me to inform me of the incident, the lucky one they elected to call me appeared to be as calm as she could, however the two ladies in the background gave me a much better picture of the situation when I over heard one of them state "they live all the way in Cachagua, ask if we can call the ambulance. He's in a lot of pain."
Naturally I consented not realizing that as they hung the phone up I had the honor of hearing the nurse state, "okay wait 30 seconds and then call 911."
911?
How bad was his leg?
Was it a compound fracture or what?
Yeah that little comment will rest in my mind as I drive madly down the road to C.H.O.M.P. (we live out, in the south 40, and by south 40 I mean in order for my son to make it to school by bus before the first bell he must catch the bus a 6:20 a.m.)
We arrive at the hospital and find my son, who is 13, and I quote "doped up on so much morphine it would kill an elephant."
Now I'm not knocking our local hospital, not at all. I think it is the best one for miles. But on this particular day, which happened to be a Friday, was one of their most busiest of days, we had to wait 6 hours before my son was seen by the bone doctor. The doc had 4 other surgeries he was preforming before he could make it down to the bowels of the hospital to the E.R. area.
Why they decided to put the E.R. in the basement of the hospital is beyond me. It should be, as it was, the first point of arrival when you get to the hospital. Isn't that why most people go to the hospital anyway? To be seen at the E.R.?!
After my son was seen by the doc, we were shown the x-rays. It was enough to make you want a shot of morphine yourself. It was a miracle that his bone did not rupture through his skin, which explained the huge black and blue lump on the side of his leg. The doc mentioned screws and plates if they could not realign the leg just right, along with months of therapy if they couldn't.
After a non invasive surgery, which basically means knock the kid out on a table in the O.R. table and reset the leg, followed by x-rays and a hour and 1/2 in the recovery room, we were able to take my son home with, of coarse, more morphine for the pain.
By the time we left the hospital it was 10:30 at night, my son had arrived there at 10:00 in the morning.
Then the bill came.
$1400.00 for the ambulance ride, and nearly $8,000 for the E.R. visit.
Holy Shit!
Now I don't know about your finaces but mine at this time is zip, zero, none. Same for medical insurance. Why you ask? Well you see I just happen to have landed an excellent job for a school district. Not as some big wig but as some middle man on the totem pole. But I am low enough on that totem pole to be laid off this summer.
No big deal.
I love my job and the people I work with and for.
They are the best and I have no complaints with them.
Being my first year with a school district I had thought that I would just file for unemployment like every other person who gets laid off of work and at least have some money coming in till I returned to work in the fall.
BUT I LIVE IN FRICKEN CALIFORNIA!
Apparently there is a little unknown law in this glorious state of ours that simple put states an employee of any school district in the state that is given an assured return to work date in the fall when school starts, WILL NOT QUALIFY FOR UNEMPLOYMENT BENEFITS!
No wonder people in this field are leaving the profession in record numbers! Who in the hell can survive for 2-3 months without any income!?
Yes in all fairness they do have the contract option, if you work full time, of becoming a 10, 11, or 12 month paid employee but the results are as such that in order to make up the 2 month difference in pay when you don't work, a huge amount is with held from your check, every check, to make of the difference of pay in the summer months when one is off. That's great if you are living on a teacher's salary or an administrator's salary. I however am not.
Just get part time summer job you say. I tried, but being in my third trimester, even McDonald's said sorry we can use you at this time. So now we are on medical and food stamps, (my spouse receives $900 a month from Social Security).
Medical! Great you say, at least now you can pay off that ENORMOUS medical bill.
Wrong!
You see I still had one last pay check in June which in the government's eyes disqualifies my family for Medical. We made $180 dollars more than the limit. Had my son broke his leg just 3 or 4 days later in the month of July all would be covered.
Now I do not know what truly happened that day when my son broke his leg, for I was not there, but I do feel that the other boy is responsible for at least 1/2 the bill.
The school did an investigation and informed me they could not decide what really happened that day for 3 reasons.

Reason #1: The acting principal at that time had since retired and no longer works for the district. She failed to mention the "issue" to any of the staff that would be returning in the fall.

Reason#2: Upon tracking down notes recorded about the "issue" half the witnesses stated it was an intentional action upon the "tripper's" part, the other half stated no it was an accident. (Where is Judge Judy when I need her?)

Reason#3: the boy said it was an accident. (who the hell wouldn't after watching the kid you hurt carried away by an ambulance.?)

The school is bound by confidentiality laws and can not tell me the name of the boy who tripped my son. They suggested looking through the yearbook with my son and finding out that way, for the boy is now a freshman at the high school and no longer attends the middle school.
They have however let the mother of the boy know that I am looking for "support", as they mildly put it, in paying for my son's medical bills, but low and behold she denies any and all responsibilty, including allowing me to know her name or the name of her son.

No I'm sorry it happened.
No is your son okay?
Nothing.

I can not say whiether or not her son acted like a jack ass with an evil intent, I was not there. I can only go on the word of what my son tells me, just as she is.
I do however believe by not "facing the music" as one might say that she is setting a crappy example for her son.
While her son goes on his merry happy way, my son is left with alot of hurt, anger and resentment. For him there has been no closer to this incident. Just alot of festuring anger directed towards a boy to whom my son will see next year in high school. I only hope my son can be man enough to confront this boy without wanting to return the favor.

I truly hope that boy's mother reads this blog, I hope she understands how much pain and suffering along with financial burden her ignorance and lack of compassion and responsiblity has done my family. I hope her son reads this.....and realizes what his stupid act of simply being a jack ass has put my son and family through.

Must be football season.

noreply@blogger.com (South40) — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 05:42:00 +0000

Even with summer ending and school just starting my spouse still must fire up the b.b.q grill. Maybe it's because football season is finally beginning...Lord knows he along with 3/4 of the male population have been jones'n for it since last January. Not because the season ended, for thanks to our team's lame performance the "roar" of football season ended before it even began, I think because it is a chance for him along with his friends to redeem themselves. Why you ask?
Because nobody wants to have the team that can only rack up 3 wins for the whole season. No they want to be associated with that team. That team beats the odds and demolishes the most bragged about "dream team" from New England. That team that will forever be remembered for the most unbelievable toss and catch in Superbowl history.
Which brings me back to the b.b.q grill.
Why is it that men insist on cooking while the game is on?
It is bad enough that they try to cook and drink beer at the same time, but when you add into the mix a team that is getting their ass kicked by another team who had a worse record than them last year...well it's pretty much in the cards that a disaster is in the mix.
Take my spouse for example.
He and his buddies have been talking about "thee game" opener for weeks. (Hell it's even marked in red highlighter on the calender.) They even made "thee" trip to the supermarket for all the supplies for the "tailgate" party in the backyard 2 days before the game started. Mind you a second and third trip were made due to the fact that the beer supply some how ran extremely low before the big day.
Then the day arrived! Fire up that grill, but wait the grill won't lite. Naturally it must be something wrong with the ignition switch on the grill, quick get a lighter and try that. (Never mind the fact that the propane gas has been left on high for a good full minute now) Don't worry honey we're guys we know what we're doing. B.B.Q'n is in our blood.
I suppose that burning off your eyebrows and eye lashes is in your blood too. But hey he didn't drop his beer...toasted it..but didn't drop it. But wait! Somehow in the mass explosion the wire rack was placed upside down upon the grill. Not good for the meat I was told.
But I was not to worry "No problem honey I'll just flip it over the right way."
With a sigh I went to gather up the burn cream out of the first aid kit as my spouse successfully flipped the rack over, with his bare fingers.
Not to worry tho honey "only cops need you to have finger prints". Nice tip and yes I'll bring you a cold one on the way out.
But wait upon my return the group, of now intoxicated groupies, forgot to check the level of the propane tank.
Idiots.
Thank God the market is at the end of the road..but who wants to carry that empty heavy ass 5 gallon tank 100 feet down the road. Wait! The suggestion of rolling it down the dirt road was made! It's empty so it shouldn't blow up, but wait who's going to carry it back up the hill?
That's when the brilliant groupies decided to load it up in the back of the station wagon. So off they go...with "Einstein" sitting in the back of the wagon holding the tank with the trunk lid open....oops I guess he forgot that the struts for the trunk lid are shot...of coarse now so are his shins.
Finally they made it to the store..money...dam who brought the cash for the propane? Back up the driveway, this time with a stick to hold the truck lid open. Empty out the pocket for the cash and back down the driveway. By now the store worker has heard them coming and in a effort to hurry them along is awaiting their arrival at the propane refueling station.
(Mind you we can see the store from our yard.)
Finally after twenty minutes getting propane the grill is lit and the meat is on the grill...but wait what do you mean the game is already in the middle of the first quarter? When in the hell did that happen? We weren't gone that long. We're loosing?! How in the hell did that happen?!
Quick huddle around the t.v. our quarterback is hot! Yeah after a 12:00 possession of the ball we score! Our team is on fire!
(And from the view out the window so is dinner.)
Oh shit quick put the flames out...but with what? Try the beer! Apparently propane and beer do not mix. But they make a great piro tech. show. Back inside for the first aid kit. But hey at least now his mustache matches his eyebrows and eyelashes.
I can't wait till next week's game. I better stock up the first aid kit.