Canyon Lake 2: Electric Boogaloo

I hate to keep harping on Lois but I really have a lot to thank her for. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have gotten my documents delivered today.

I drove out to That-Which-Should-Be-Cast-Out-Of-California (also known in obscure circles as Hemet) and after driving around for like thirty minutes, trying to find my target, I realized that the servees lived in those remnants of Stalin's Russia, the gated community. And not just any gated community, a Canyon Lake style gated community that puts medium security federal prisons to shame.

But this time I was cunning as a fox, quick as a cheetah, and as dexterous as a gigantic squid. When the charmingly eastern European security guard wouldn't let me in, I asked for his name, had him spell it out for me, and I drove away and parked. I filled out the form so that I could serve it to him and drove back. I gave him the "If you won't let me in I'm going to have to serve you" spiel, and he raised up his hands and said, "I'm not taking them!" I then proceeded to throw the documents at his feet, as if I were some rich dandy and he were some lowly Ukranian prostitute whom I had just savagely beaten and the documents were the cold comfort of cash.

But if I hadn't had my little kerfuffle with Lois then I wouldn't know what to do when the long arm of justice was stopped by power hungry rent-a-cops. And for that, I thank her.

I'm hoping to do a big post tomorrow about the events of Friday, in which I got up at 5:30 and drove around San Bernardino county, serving that process.

I'll need to clean away these tumbleweeds...

Sorry for that long intermission. The legal system in California literally stopped. No justice was served for an entire two weeks. There was mass chaos and in all the commotion I think we seceded from the Union three times.

But order is back and I have documents to deliver which will hopefully turn into eventful blog posts! I have some documents for my second favorite place on earth, Hemet! Yes, you know the place. But those will have to wait for Saturday. Tomorrow I'm getting up before Dawn shines her glorious face on the Earth to deliver some documents to Ontario and Chino Hills. Craziness? One can only hope.

Serving Hemet

So as a few of you may know, I recently got a job serving legal documents. And I love it, don't get me wrong. I started out and I was on top of the world, "Hello my name is Adam, I have some legal documents for you." Professional smile, they claim to have no idea what the documents are about, more professional smiling, I hand over the documents, I get in my car, I'm that much closer to a trip to Europe.

But these last few days I've had a dry spell. Much akin to that episode of Sex and the City. You know the one I mean. 

I've been trying to get these people who live close to UCR. I've been by their house three times already (at varying times of the day\night) and they are never home. I ask you, what kind of people aren't at home at 6:30 on a Monday night? Drug lords that's who.

So I'm at these people's house and I look through my documents, trying to see if there's anyone else close by, and I see these documents I have to go deliver out in Hemet. It's about forty minutes away but I think to myself, "Well I'm out here already." How wrong I was.

I imagine that the person that settled Hemet thought to themselves, "Man, I'd really like to have a town out in the middle of nowhere, I mean WAY out in the middle of nowhere, just a couple of houses, a barn, a Valero gas station, you know, somewhere you could hide a corpse." And they got their wish.

I drive and drive and drive. Hemet is one of those California towns that would be better suited in some place like Arizona or New Mexico. It's like those towns on the outskirts of Los Angeles that only exist to house the Angelinos (well and to house the porn industry but that's a given.) 

I finally get to the guy's house and HE'S NOT THERE and no amount of ringing his doorbell or banging on his screen is going to change that. His neighbor across the street, upon questioning, reveals to me his place of work and I quickly take off to the location. My GPS told me it was 4 miles away but I could swear it was 40. Alas, HE'S NOT THERE. I turn around and drive the 40 miles back to his house just to check one more time. And lo and behold there is a light on in the house. My heart's a flutter, could it possibly be? Could I deliver these documents and get a small net gain when I accounted my gas in? I bang, I ring, and HE'S NOT THERE.

I get in my car, thinking horrible, illegal thoughts. Moral of the story? Hemet needs to be kicked out of the state (or at the very least the county.)