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Archive for the ‘Kelly Mahan Jaramillo’ Category

Okay, it is the mother here, and I am getting a little bit peeved.  Back in November, Bobby informed me he was going on vacation, and, despite my protests, he packed his suitcase and left.  I can hardly blame him, as you can see what it was like here for the past few months, below.

Bobby in the backyard - photo by Kelly Mahan Jaramillo

Bobby dreaming of Cabo San Lucas - photo by Kelly Mahan Jaramillo

So, really, can you blame him?  He wanted a vacation, he went on vacation. Fine, okay, there really is no arguing with him when he gets his mind set on something.

To be fair, it was snowing and cold up until two weeks ago, but then rain started, the snow melted, and now Spring is here.  It is beautiful.  It is time for the Bird to come back!

His employer has three books lined up for him to review, his first one is a really fun science fiction romp called “Logging Off”, by Caitlin McKenna. Bobby really enjoyed it, and was looking forward to reviewing it, but he is not back, and I have no idea where he is.  However, he did send me a rough draft of his review, sent from somewhere is South America, promising to polish it up when he was home.  That was two months ago.

Since then, all I have received are these two postcards, below, showing him lounging in a pool at whatever resort he is staying.

"Sun and Sand!" Photo by Kelly Mahan Jaramillo

"Another round of Pina Coladas, please!" Photo by Kelly Mahan Jaramillo

If anyone happens to see a drunk, fat, lazy crow lying on a beach towel covered with white corn chips and hamburger meat, will you tell him he has a job, and his vacation is LONG over, and to get his tail feathers back home, pronto.

Thank you.

If he is not back in the next few days, I will take his rough draft of “Logging Off”, and post it.  Believe me, I have read it, and it has that special “Bobby D Book Review” flavor that we have all come to know and love.

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Hello my fellow crow fans and assorted others, human and higher beings,

Again, my apologies for the delay, but there was a terrible legal hassle I had to go through with my boss.  I do not consider Sarah Palin’s book, “Going Rogue, An American Life” a book.

The Bird reviews books, both fiction and nonfiction, magazines, blogs, anything that is literature, and is interesting, informative, funny, factual, emotional – everything that true writers are supposed to give to their readers.

Sarah Palin does not qualify as a writer.  I refused to review her book, and the Parents were one hundred percent behind me, but it took some serious legal arguments to back up my decision.  In the end, we won, the courts ruled that Palin’s pieces of paper do not qualify as fiction, nonfiction, literature, factual, anything.  This waste of what was once a live tree is not considered a book by the High Court of Trees. As crows, we know what is and is not a book, from all of the time we spend with the original paper source.

It qualifies as a 44 year old woman writing a “Dear Diary” with all of the ability of an angry fifteen year old.

The Bird does not review “mean little girl” diaries.

Read and see more here:

Bobby’s Bi-weekly Book Review

Although, the picture below pretty much sums it up.

[image by ‘flyinureye’ via themudflats.net]

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I am one happy crow. My mother is finally starting to understand me when I speak.  Today is a great example – she noticed my drinking cup was a little bit low, and she threw the old water out, washed the cup, and put in nice fresh water.  For all of her flaws, and there are SO many, she is very good about making sure the Bird has plenty of fresh food and drink.

However, it has been awhile since she has taken me out onto my balcony, where my jacuzzi-bowl  is in my large black, Nouvelle French dressing room. She says it has been too cold, I keep saying I am a Bird, and we live in the cold.  Her counter argument is that I am now, after 8 years, an indoor bird, and I would catch a cold.

Puh-leeze.  I am a crow, we are invincible.

So, when she brought my little cup of fresh water, I dunked my head in it, loud.  It startled her enough to realize that I was willing to take a bath in a cup, I do not like being dirty, and I was feeling icky.

She caved.  I was taken outside to my beautiful big bowl, where I proceeded to take the longest, splashiest bath ever, and she had to keep coming out and filling the jacuzzi-bowl.  I love it when she is my slave-girl. I should make her wear the Princess Leia slave outfit. The Bird thinks that would be appropriate. I will bring it up at our next Homeowners Meeting.

So, now I am glossy and clean and gorgeous, and below I would like to share with you a few photos of my room, my three story condo, and my books.

DSCN0351

Leaping from the top floor to the main room

DSCN0354

Have I mentioned that my condo has been appraised at over $100,000? You heard right.

DSCN0319a

Is this bulb out again? Grr, these antique lamps. Someone find the father.

Now that I am clean and relaxed, I am going to begin my next book review. Everybody over on the review page is asking what is next, but I refuse to give a teaser.  You will just have to wait until tomorrow.  The Bird is Busy, and can only do so much, you know.

Caw!

Bobby Out!

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Summer is hard everywhere.  My birthday is August 15th – when I try to find compassion, sympathy and understanding for my mother, what caused her to hate and abuse me, I figure she was not in the greatest spirits because she was in her last tri-mester in Summer, and flung me out in the dog days of August.

Of course, if I am to be totally honest about my severe dislike of her, I am glad she was in misery.

I guess we are both assholes. Although recently, on my end, there has been a change towards her.  It can be found on the “What Happened” blog.  This is Bobby’s blog, and he is  getting irritated that I am making it all about me, as usual.

For Bobby,  sumer is misery for him, also.  He molts in summer, and it makes him very snappy, angry, and unhappy.  Especially because he cannot fly, he molts more slowly.  I have been trying to come up with anything I can do to make him feel better, and nothing has been working all that well.  Although today, I just got a suggestion that is wonderful.  I am going to try it and will report how it goes.

In the meantime, however, please look at the picture below.  That is Bobby D the crow in August.

Robert-deNiro

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Two days ago, maybe?

The only good thing about humidity is it makes your skin look absolutely fabulous.  All of that moisture.

Otherwise, it is a misery, but the beauty is, summer only lasts for two months around here.

The forest that is our lot is so old, the leaves are really too big to fully understand when written about, so here are a few photos to have something to compare.

It is just past a year since Bullet died, and it is coming up on two years since my cat Monkey died.  I have not been able to write about Monkey, and I just got word that my friend Tara Zucker lost her cat Blanche.

Tara writes much more eloquently than I, and her life with Blanche is a beautiful chronology of how we come to love the four-legged creatures that speak so well, if only we were smart enough to understand.

My shoe size? Six and a half.  Ahem

My shoe size? Six and a half. Ahem

Hand?  Not much bigger than foot.

Hand? Not much bigger than foot.

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There was a rabbit. He was running around in Koreatown, Los Angeles, where I was teaching English as as Second Language.

It was July 9th, ten months after my father, Bill Mahan, died.  July 9th happened to be Bill’s  birthday.

I saw all of the students, of every level, yelling in their native language and running around in circles in ninety degree heat.

It was lunchtime, so I did not want to be the bitch teacher screaming “English, people, English!” – but I was intensely curious and needed someone to have done enough of their homework  to clue me in.

(Granted, I had purchased every student a copy of Harper Lee’s “To Kill A Mockingbird” to show them that the English language did not always translate across every state).

They were chasing a rabbit.  I knew nothing of rabbits, and I was wearing the one good pair of pants I owned.

I waded in, and saw him under the ficus, loaded for bear.  He had big teeth and an attitude.

I grabbed him, and god help me, he went quiet.  The students and other teachers were in a circle, laughing.

“Now you own him!” or “You just caught dinner!”

I knew if I brought home another animal, Tomas’s patience would wear thin.

We all got through it.

Billy “The Bullet” Mahan lived with us for about 6 years. When we decided to get out of Los Angeles for good, we had a 5-week stopover in Ojai, California.   As my faithful readers know, Bobby the Crow, Billy “The Bullet” Mahan, Vito and Vinnie the cats, Tomas and myself relaxed and gathered our wits in Ojai, and began prepping for the trip one year ago this month.

The Bullet was old, and he did not make it past the first stop over in Ojai.  He enjoyed being there for a month, and had built up quite a little fan club when people would walk by and see him in his big round pen, relaxing under the trees outside, before we would bring him in for the evening.

Local Ojai folks liked to stop at the little wooden fence and talk to him.

At dusk one night, I went out to bring him in, and he was not feeling well.  He died very suddenly about an hour later, to my shock, disbelief, and tremendous sadness.

He is buried under two huge, beautiful oak trees on the land of Lisa and John Adair.  We miss him every day.

There will never be another Bullet.

Lady? I could arrest you for hitchhiking......

"Lady? I could arrest you for hitchhiking....." .photo: Kelly Mahan Jaramillo, The Bullet

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About a year ago, I wrote that Judy Davis Farash was charging us for new carpet in her house, carpet that was so old it was disgusting. After we moved,  she listed her house, 7002 Forbes Ave, Van Nuys, Ca, with Jill Fischer properties, lauding the wonderful hardwood floors!  Pictures of the whole house – hardwood floors.

And a note – a tenant is not responsible for carpet that has not been replaced after two years – California Law.

Judy Davis Farash went to court to get what she felt was owed her, and in her injunction, was charging us for new carpet.  The court, without us there, gave here the right to get a sheriff and pull all of the money we had in our bank account to pay for said “carpet”.  The Bank was Washington Mutual, just before they bit the dust.

The small amount of money in the account was SSDI money from my car accident.  SSDI money cannot be levied, so WaMu screwed up, and so did Judy Davis Farash.

Here’s the Readers Digest version:

For the last year, her house has been for rent, touting hardwood floors.

Not long after I posted this, the house disappeared off of Jill Fischer properties.  Even if Judy Davis Farash finally rented it, Jill Fischer doesn’t seem too inclined to triumphantly post “RENTED!” on her website.

Gee, I wonder why?  Maybe Jill Fischer does not want to be associated with the type of landlord who routinely screws her tenants.

We have all of the documentation in order, and a lawyer on standby.  If we choose, we can haul Judy Davis Farash and her husband Martin J. Farash into court, proving that they falsified documents for the courts to get into our bank accounts.  

The courts don’t like to be lied to, kids.  Keep that in mind if you try to pull another nasty, vindictive move like the last one.  

We are so sorry that our legal rebuttal outlined in great detail every issue that you, as a landlord, were neglecting,  to the point where your house was becoming hazardous to live in. Yes, once it is public record, if you do not fix the problem, the next tenant could sue your pants off.  So you finally had to spend money and  bring your house up to code. Guess what, hon?  Not. Our. Problem. Deal with it.

Below is the picture of the living room as it was listed on Jill Fischer Properties.  Se the $2,800 dollar carpet she was charging us for?

Ahem.

And the worst part of the saga – Judy Davis Farash and Martin J. Farash are therapists. Judy does not act like a normal landlady – she is very sweet and chummy, giving new tenants a “Welcome to your new home” plant, sending a Christmas gift every year, will counsel you to “take some time off,’  – it seems really nice at first, but as a tenant, you slowly start to realize that it is blurring the lines between ‘friend’, ‘therapist’ and ‘landlord’. Once you start feeling how inappropriate her behavior is,  it starts getting creepy, especially when your first year is up, and she decides to blindside you and jack the rent up 27%.

 She will not tell you this when you first move in, and it was not in the rental agreement we signed – unfortunately, she is allowed by law to do it, and she is not about to give you a heads up that she will.

A friend of mine recently drove by the house, and notice two cars in the driveway, and no “For Rent” sign.  Looks like it finally rented.  

My sympathy goes out to the new people.

hardwood-floors

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