Scraping the Bottom

Got a second call from my attorney last night (Thursday.) It appears T, L or C called their freebie Farmers Insurance Company attorney (Why is Farmer's Insurance still hanging with these losers?) to tell him, Mark D. McCauley, Esq., about the criminal complaint I filed on them Wednesday night. Of course, because this commercial insurance attorney, and his employer, and their one giant client, have NO interest in defending criminal policyholders, he called my attorney to emphatically renew his commitment to speedily settle the civil suit, even if the defendants are pissed off about it. (Ohhh... I can see contempt of court charges already!) That's why my attorney called me.

Now that the two attorneys and I are singing from the same page of the hymnbook, all that remains is to beg  persuade  cajole  bribe  convince  tell  order  force  have the civil case defendants sign onto the Stipulated Judgment.

All of which precedes the fact that Lynda Allen is losing control. The most predictable thing about "control freaks" is that when they lose the ability to control the people around them, they freak out and revert to childish and asinine antics - or adult temper tantrums - in pathetic attempts to regain even "negative" control.

The previous post showed that despite the P.C. 415 citation she received hours before, she still turned on the yard radio yesterday morning...

... and again this morning. (Keep diggin', baby! Let's see how deep a hole you want to dig for yourself.) Banging around in the yard for an hour before, at 7:04 a.m. Lynda, still in her robe and slippers, shuffled from house to outbuilding and turned on the radio. On the way back to the house, however, she stepped in something - probably dog shit! - and tried scraping it off before going in. The incident prompted me to recall the "too many dogs" complaint and the chicken they allow loose on the property.

... and it reawakened a memory of something I read in their Health Department files almost two years ago. (Ahhh, yes... here it is.)

No wonder they were shoeless! Which is worse, a slap on the hands (or feet) for shoelessness, or losing your Health Department certificate (which shuts down your catering truck) because of whatever! on the bottom of your shoes?

The complaint, above, inspired a new name for the trio next door. Since they no longer operate TLC Catering, their new name is:

BAREFOOT DIRTY GIRLS!

Anybody wanna buy some catering trucks? See pictures of them at the end of this post.
(But remember to have them thoroughly cleaned [by professionals] before their first use.)

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