So I have a Myspace Page

The Wife started a page for me on Myspace as a way to get me excited about it. I'm not real excited about it. I think, for the most part, Myspace.com is a novelty for children to goof off and trash talk each other. It's not something I have a real use for. With that said, I couldn't just stand by and see my page look as ugly as it was, so I decided to give it some personality. Don't expect me to add much to it very often though.

http://www.myspace.com/mike_campero

See new Poll on the right to chime in on how you feel about My Space.

Mikey

Sick Sick Sick

What kind of Glorious God would teach others to kill over disagreement or differences? What kind of All Loving God would allow a 17 year old girl to be stoned to death in public for falling in love? I don't have the words.

Allah is better than this

Do I look like a Mario Party Person?

So I was in Gamestop yesterday, when I got the Nyko Wii Charge Station (which is a very cool 3rd party product) and the girl behind the counter started her speech. I feel for her, I do. I used to work for Funcoland, which was eventually bought out by Gamestop and they had the same stupid upsell policies. Gotta push all the high margin crap that no one really wants. We used to sell subscriptions to Game Informer magazine and console cleaners, they still sell subscriptions to game informer and now they push video game & accessory preorders.

Anyways, she asks me if Id like to preorder anything, to which I politely state, "There is nothing coming out for the Wii that I want to preorder for some time."

She replies, as she is opening the pre-order book they have on the counter, "How about Mario Party 8?"

To which I reply, once again sternly but politely, "Do I look like a Mario Party Person?" Even though, I am, I don't look it.

She got the point, I thought, so she said, "Have you seen the new Mortal Kombat: Armageddon?"

"Yes" was all she got from me on that one.

"It has the coolest new control scheme, have you considered pre-ordering that one?"

"Not my kind of game", this time only sternly...the politeness was leaving me.

I bought my stuff and left. What I really wanted to tell her was, "I'm sorry you work for a mega billion dollar corporation that forces you to degrade yourself into a high pressure sales position without the glory or high commission return of say, a car salesman. I suggest killing yourself." But that wouldn't of been very nice.

Apathy For The Dead

33 Dead in Virginia. 32 Murders, 1 Suicide, and I feel nothing but apathy. It's horrible, but maybe I'm a little numb.

20 Iraq security forces executed

9 dead as Taliban steps up attacks

Dozens dead, wounded in bombings across Iraq

8 Dead 23 Wounded

Suicide attack kills 8 in eastern Afghanistan

Market, bridge bombings kill dozens in Iraq


Etc. Etc.

I Didn't Want To Grow Up, Still Don't

OK, so here's the deal. I grew up and I'm not who I wanted to be when I grow up. I could probably leave it at that and a great deal many of you would nod in agreement, know exactly what I'm talking about, and feel either sorry for me, yourself, or both of us. I, however, like to ramble in a self-help sort of way about my life, so here it goes.

I was a child of the 80's and had fantastic dreams. I was a comic book reader, watched G.I. Joe and very much wanted to be a super hero. I wasn't very grounded to reality as a child, which is fine when you are a child. I had two loving parents, who spoiled me so. I had free reign to do just about anything I wanted to, within reason. I've never seen what hardship was really like and thus never had to learn about it till it hit me later in life. I went to Detroit Public Schools, and while I now criticize the Detroit Public School system, at the time, it worked well enough for me. I had teachers who generally cared about me as a student and it wasn't until later in life, looking back, that very strange things happened in school. For instance, a substitute teacher who constantly touched one my friends and did strange things like taking 100 sheets of paper and tried to cut them in the paper cutter all at once. He'd slam the blade down over and over again as if to intentionally try to creep out the kids. At one point, the principle asked us to each write down the events of one particular day regarding this teacher. I suppose it would be used against him in court or when he was fired. As a child who lived in fantasy world though, these events meant nothing, but I could see some other children get really spooked by this, maybe kids from a lesser family structure, one of abuse. I'm getting sidetracked.

People who choose to enter in a career of education are special people. They do it because they truly want to see children succeed. Now if they feel that way after working 10 years in an inner city school district where you have to buy your kids their supplies because neither the parents nor the school district can afford them, is a totally different story. Regardless, they start out with good intentions. Here is some Irony for you. When you are a "bad" kid in school, the teachers punish you and remind you that if you continue down this path that your life will be more difficult and you'll never amount to anything. They get the lower end of the education scale and most fulfill that teacher's premonition. When you are the "good" kid, you get the better end of the education and the teacher's praise, which goes straight to your head. You are never warned about what happens if you stray from the path, because you were never punished. But they had good intentions and that is what counts.

So yeah, I made some mistakes and man, did I have some excuses:

• My Mother died when I was 14 years old.
• My father was an Alcoholic and spent a lot of time drunk.
  
• My Dad lost his job and we lost our home when I was 16.
• Thus, I was living on my own at 16.

OK, so there are some of the excuses for the fact that, as a spoiled child, I had no idea what life was about or how to take care of myself. As for the mistakes I've made, I can't even begin to list them all, so I'll touch on the big one that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was convicted of a four count felony when I was 18 years old. Officially worded as the "Misuse of a financial transaction device", but essentially credit card fraud. Here's the story. I was working at a service station, mostly nights, and one day this guy comes in to buy some cigarettes and wants to know if he can get cash back on his credit card. This is against the store policy, but he was very persistent. Obviously, he was either a drunk or an addict and needed a fix, by the look of him. I relent, charge his card $20 and give him cash from the drawer. Of course, if this was a one time occurrence, It wouldn't of been a big deal, but he came in three times that week with the same request. After the third time, I told him to go elsewhere. It then occurred to me that the reason he kept coming back was because we had a $20, no validation, system. Meaning, to save the company money by avoiding associated fees from the credit card companies, they wouldn't validate the transaction if it was $20 or less. It would just automatically be approved. Many fast food restaurants use the same system in their drive thru to save time. So, the smart thing would of been to report it so that my butt would be out of trouble. But since we are talking about mistakes I made, I'll tell you what I really did. I put his credit card number in, took $20 out of the drawer and put it in my pocket. Over the course of 3 months, I supplemented my paycheck with stolen money amounting to about $5000.

So, I lost my job, ended up being convicted on 4 counts, had to pay back every dime plus about $2000 in court costs, did 100 hours of community service and now have to check that little box on employment applications that says I've been convicted of a felony. That, is the worst part. I'd wager that you'd be surprised on how often this effects your life, especially your employment. If I was the bad kid, the teacher would of said that I wouldn't amount to anything. In the United States, It is illegal to segregate against employment based on Religion, Race, Color, National Origin, Sex, Disability, Age, Marital Status, Height, Weight, Genetics, Family Status, or Arrest Record. If you are convicted of a felony, however, no employer has to hire you at all. Furthermore, you are obligated by law to let your employer know you have been convicted of a felony when this information is requested.

So there I was, working to pay off my bills, with dreams of returning to school to do something with my life and I now have to start over. Here's the real smack in the face that I gave myself. I want to be a teacher. I want to teach high school literature, read essays, grade papers and to help kids in the inner city school district to find something better than what they see every day. The problem is, regardless of my best intentions, the State of Michigan doesn't allow convicted Felons to obtain teaching certificates.

So, I've come to terms with the fact that I'll have to live without fulfilling that dream. Luckily, I found an employer that was willing to give me a chance with the full knowledge of my past mistakes. So I take my time, moving slowly through any decisions I have in life. Career changes are virtually impossible, unless it's a career in gambling which take people from all walks of life, so they tell me, or I start a company of my own. I'd hire me in a heartbeat.

I'd love to be a kid again. I'd love to live that carefree life of comic books and G.I. Joe, cartoons and video games. I'd love to have zero responsibility. I'd love to start over and do it the right way this time. Yeah, Whatever.

Haiku & A Story

A Child Cherished
Another Child Destroys
The Butterfly's Death

As much as I cherish nature now, as a child I had a different viewpoint. I was that kid who spit on ant hills and squashed bugs, never caring what so ever about it. It wasn't until my dad asked why I was stomping on ants that I finally understood. My dad explained to me to me that bugs weren't allowed in the house, but outside was their home and while they are just bugs, we shouldn't go around killing them just because. I've followed that creed since that day for the most part, except for earwigs. Those bastards die on sight.

Before my dad gave me this advice, however, I had already had a run-in with someone with an alternate viewpoint. There was this kid Danny down the block. Kind of a dorky kid, but his parents spoiled him and he had all the cool toys. He had a bunch of Atari games. So one day I'm hanging out at his house and he shows me something. Looked like a big bug caught in a spider web. He said his dad told me it was a caterpillar that made a cocoon and that after a while he would hatch into a butterfly. He was very happy about this. I imagine it had more to do with a bonding between him and his father than anything else, but he couldn't wait to see the butterfly emerge from the cocoon. So he goes in the house to get a toy or glass of water or something and I grab a stick and smash the cocoon. I just give it one big hit. It poured out a green pussy goo. The thing inside twitched a bit then stopped moving. When Danny came out of the house and saw the smashed caterpillar, he was devastated and started to cry. He yelled at me and ran into his house. Danny wouldn't talk to me for a few days after that.

I don't know why I smashed Danny's caterpillar. I don't remember doing it out of spite or meanness, more of something to do while I waited for Danny to come out of his house. I later apologized as I didn't like that I hurt Danny, but at that point could care less about a bug. I was probably 6 or 7 years old, so our moral compass was still developing. Between this incident and the talk my Dad gave me, I started to realize that killing stuff was wrong. It's pretty common sense actually, but when you are just a kid, you don't understand concepts like death and have to learn what they mean. It's just that I remember when I learned it. Most don't.

Science & Snails. Philosophy & Humanity.

Science always intrigued me as a child. It is that unknown and mysterious nature that boggles the mind and gets you dreaming. My earliest job aspirations were of being an astronaut. And why wouldn't they be? We are shown stars and space and they say that one day, our generation will be living on the moon or other planets. I wrote crappy science fiction stories in my English classes and looked through telescopes in science. It was all very fascinating.

As I reached high school, I began to appreciate science in nature, things like how cells processed energy, photosynthesis, mitochondria, and endoplasmic reticulum. Don't worry if you don't know what these things are, just know that they are very small and very cool. But where I began to truly appreciate our world, is in life itself. The animals, the insects, babies; all pique my interests.

My current case study is the rock garden behind the office building where I work. There are three suites in the building, all have a back door, and except for ours, none are used. Ours is only used sporadically to cut through to the party store in the lot next door. There is a 8 Ft. long rock garden, usually overgrown with weeds, partially shaded by trees that runs the length of the building. It is here that we have, of all things, snails.

During most of the warm months, you see them occasionally, one here or there. Sometimes you see the cracked shell of one that was perhaps stepped on, or found by a random bird. For the most part though, this is their private little safehaven for the few snails that live here. When it rains though, watch out. The snail army comes out in bulk. They are literally everywhere, On the walls, in the rocks, on the trees, everywhere. I can't help but to step lightly and carefully to avoid crunching them and for a moment I admire them as I do all lesser creatures.

A snails life is simple. When times are good, they frolic and play everywhere, albeit slowly. When times are bad, they lock themselves away in their shell until times are good again. They never know what life's about, nor do they care. They don't worry about life or death. They don't worry at all. They follow the instinctual pattern of survival in it's most simplistic form and it works out pretty good for them. There is something to envy in that.

Conversely, being human is both a blessing and a curse. We have been endowed with the intelligence to understand our environment. We knowingly have a purpose. We can love and hate, respect and despise, advance and withdraw. However we are cursed to know about death and loss and all the inner pain that accompanies it. Our survival is a matter of constant worry.

You sometimes see people who live the snail's life, one of fun. When life throws it's worst at them, they just hide in their little shell until mother nature bails them out with good times again. Of course mother nature in this case isn't a nice rain, its a family bailout or government program. Another issue all together. But even if you do run and hide from life's problems, the very fact that you are human gives you the ability to be disturbed by the events around you. You worry. You cry. A snail just goes to sleep.

Where I'm going with this is simply that we need to observe ourselves more as well as the world around us. You can envy the simple life of the snail but shouldn't respect it. It's a life of simplicity and ignorance. We should be proud that we have the knowledge and wisdom to wish we didn't have the knowledge and wisdom, because unlike the snail, we see the good and bad in life and can't hide away in our little shells.

Caste Clarified

I was recently called out in humor when an acquaintance of mine said that I use words like ghetto a lot to explain events in my life. I told him, "I try to relay the feeling of being a lower middle class person living in an upper lower class city with the goals of an upper middle class lifestyle and a dream of being an upper class elitist." Of course, this needs some explanation.

I live in Pontiac, Michigan, a suburb of the Greater Metro Detroit Area. It's about 30 miles north of Detroit. In fact, before living in Pontiac, I spend the first 10 years of my life in Detroit, which to most people, sounds like the beginnings of a thug turned superstar, rags to riches movie, or a horror movie, same difference. South East Michigan was once the epicenter of the automotive industry, it still has a great presence, but no where the impact it once did. So what this means is that where once stood great automobile manufacturing plants, now stand large empty buildings awaiting improvement, real estate reclassification, or demolition. This, of course impacts the economic well being of Michigan and whatnot, but that's a whole different story. Just know that where greatness once stood, now is ruin.

What this means to me, and many other gen X'ers in Michigan, is a sort of failed promise. We grew up in a school system that taught us that an education was the answer to all of our dreams, but a society that showed us that working at the plant was a desirable lifestyle, and both failed. If you chose to follow the path of education, you were fighting an uphill battle in the Detroit school system which is an urban disaster of corruption and wasted money. Detroit is losing thousands of citizens every year, which means less money, less taxes, and poorer school districts. Try telling a child who can barely speak legibly that he can be president some day. On the flip side to this is the dream of vocational work, those who chose to go into the automobile industry or related trades. This ended up also being a false promise as the job market is falling apart with jobs being shipped around the country and to lower cost manufacturing plants in other countries. Not that this is a bad thing, but an unfortunate side effect of big companies making big money. This however is no condolence to the person who chose this work path, which coincidently is basically an unskilled worker.

So where does this leave me? I'm an in betweener. I have enough education to keep me out of trouble, with just a few marketable skills. I fell into a few bad decisions as a teen and marked myself enough so that I can never obtain the American dream through traditional means, but we dream anyways.

Thus, "I try to relay the feeling of being a lower middle class person living in an upper lower class city with the goals of an upper middle class lifestyle and a dream of being an upper class elitist." Does that make sense?

White Noise

It's been argued in relationships that you can sometimes, inadvertently, tune out someone who is talking to you. Everyone does it one time or another and some are worse than others. I'm sure it has a lot to do with the person's attention span or what's on his or her mind at the time and mostly it's a forgivable offense. However, I have discovered another phenomenon, which I'm sure isn't exclusive to me, but it certainly pertains to me. I AM WHITE NOISE.

Take this scenario. You are sitting at your desk in the office and a co-worker enters the room. There are several other co-workers in the room, each at their own desks but all within ear shot. You strike up a conversation with the person who just entered the room, about a topic you may have been discussing privately earlier in the day. This sparks a story from the person who then walks away from you to tell the story to the other person or persons in the room, out of earshot to you. You are left sitting their wondering WTF just happened. That person is me.

Now people don't do this on purpose, mostly, and like I said, it's forgivable. There must be something about me that spurs this event because it happens a lot. I mean, It happens all the time. The other day, I was telling my wife something that happened at work. I had her full attention and right smack in the middle of one of my sentences, she turns to her sister and starts talking about something completely different, cutting me off entirely. Now this has a lot to do with being comfortable with a spouse and how things that you say remind them or important things that they forgot, and that's all and good. It just happens a lot. I mean, it happens all the time.

My white noise ability is so powerful that it even effects me. I'll be saying something important, at least I thought it was important. Someones attention will float away as it often does and when they get back to me, I don't even remember what I was saying. This happens a lot. I mean it happens all the time.

While this can be damaging to the ego after the nth time it happens, I take it in stride. Wait, what was I talking about?

A Series of Unfortunate Events Part 4

I went out to my car to leave for work this morning and noticed that my dashboard was ripped apart and my stereo was missing. When it rains, it pours. The worse part about this is the CD they got in the CD player. Now I have to get it again.

Do You Eat The Crust?

There are only a few types of people in the world when it comes to dealing with problems. I'd like to think that the majority of them are good, caring people, who generally don't want to do harm to others, but their intentions have little to do with how they deal with issues. I've learned to generalize these types by comparing them to the Crusty ends of a loaf of bread. That piece of bread that is completely covered by crust on one side symbolically stands for that which we like to avoid.

There are people that avoid the Crust. They dig down to the next slice of bread, avoiding it all together. These are the kind of people who like to avoid problems, sometimes pretending they don't exist. The person who walks away after dropping the Mayo jar in the aisle of the grocery store. These are sometimes angry people, who lash out when questioned.

There are people that seek out the Crust. They'll take it so that others don't have to worry about it. These are the mother types who filter the bad from a child's eye, or a guy who runs into a flaming building to save a puppy. Hero types, do-gooders.

There are people that just take whatever is in front of them, crust or not. These are the apathetic. They don't avoid issues, but don't seek them out either. People who go to work every day, pay their bills on time, clean up after themselves, but don't necessarily work their hardest, make extra payments, or scrub the toilet.

Then there are the people who eat the crust if that's all is left. The problem with these people is they avoid issues until they can't be avoided anymore, then they are stuck with two crusts for their sandwich.

Take the Poll on the right. What Kind Of Crust Eater Are You?

Greek Town Casino & Customer Service

I'm the best man in my wife's Sister's wedding. So I decided to take out my soon to be brother-in-law to the Greek Town Casino, downtown Detroit, last Saturday. I figured a night of gambling, good eats, and entertainment would be a welcome change for a guy who has four young children at home. The entire party consisted of the Soon to be Groom, his brother, a childhood friend, a neighbor, and myself. We decide to park in the attached parking garage and because it's a Saturday, the garage was packed. They have a connected walkway on the 3rd floor of the garage to take you through a restaurant\shopping area, then a small walk across the street into the casino.

Now from here on, I had several run-ins with the staff at the Casino and my experience with them fell into two categories. Either I was incredibly pleased or completely alienated by them. The first encounter was with the security guard at the entrance. He was checking ID's and looking for suspicious characters. This fellow was a joy to deal with. You can tell he loved his job and loved conversing with the patrons. Good start. I was pretty overwhelmed by the casino at first. Being my first time there, I really didn't know where anything was. This was the Grooms second time in the casino and wanted to head straight for the roulette tables. While I was interested in finding the poker room, I went with him to keep him company. The rest of our party split up temporarily.

My second run-in with the staff at Greek Town was with Wesley. He was working the roulette table we started at. Actually, he was in the process of opening the table we started at and while waiting for the pit boss to clear him to start, we had plenty of opportunity to chit chat about the casino. Wesley was another one of those guys who really loved his job. He explained the game and how the casino worked, gave us advise, gave us directions and made it a pleasure to lose money. I lost $99 in about 20 minutes at the table. I kept a $1 chip for a souvenir.

I was determined not to waste anymore money at the roulette tables so we ventured off to find the p0ker room. We connected up with the Groom's brother and friend. In the half hour or so that we were separated, his brother Justin swooned several ladies, got a VIP card, jumped a line or two, got some drinks and a phone number. He also was fond of the staff. This soon changed.

The poker room was a cluster of people and we avoided it at first pass, but before the night was over, I hung out there to see how it worked and maybe get a table. I watched a table for about 10 minutes and watched a guy lose about $300 on a bad beat. Seeing an opening at a table, I asked one of the workers if I could just sit down. I was then berated and informed that "NO, you may not sit down. All tables are on a list. See the check-in." She then turned her back to me and pretended I wasn't there. This was pretty common in the poker room. They should have a sign posted or something. If the casino wants my money, they should at least be kind enough to tell me how I can give it to them.

I couldn't wait around to get a table. The rest of our party was soundly broke at this time. The Groom was up $300 at the roulette table for a short while but, like me, was down $100 before long. The rest of our party was so broke that part 2 and 3 of our evening was canceled (The good eats and entertainment parts). So we stopped at Burger King to feed the animals and took them home. I took the Groom out to Applebees afterwards to chit-chat and talk about what could of been, and went home happy, but down about $150.

A Series of Unfortunate Events Part 3

Oh, and the guy emailed me about the car I was interested in originally. I guess it's for sale now.

A Series of Unfortunate Events Part 2

After a few car ads, I finally found a car that I'd settle on. It's a 1994 Pontiac Grand Am 4-door, White, and a little worse for wear. It's gonna need some cleanup and a little work, namely on the breaks and an oil change, but it will get me to work and back relatively worry free.

So I went to the corner store last night to get a bag of ice for my wife. I took my new ride. It's loud. Every dummy light in the dash is lit up saying, "Please Kill Me", but I thought, hey, at least the windshield isn't all cracked up and laughed to myself (This is known as foreshadowing).

So, its really windy today and the guy who lives next to our work parking lot has a canopy car cover setup. The wind takes it and throws it half way over the fence and the big metal support bar smashes into my windshield leaving a big ol crack. Now my car looks like it sounds and the windshield is now also saying, "Please Kill Me."

A Series of Unfortunate Events

The Wife and I made a decision some time ago to always own one reliable car. That way, in a worse case scenario, we have a means to continue getting to and from work, doctor appointments, and what not. We own one brand new Saturn Ion for this reason. The other vehicle is a 10 year old mini-van. Let me describe the worse case scenario that has unfolded. A couple of weeks ago, I pulled out of my driveway in my van, put the van into drive and pop, no transmission. I roll down the hill a ways and veer the van over to the curb, hit the emergency brake and let it stay parked. We had decided to wait until our taxes got back to get the transmission fixed so It stayed parked for about a week.

We get our tax refund and schedule to have the van towed to a transmission shop the following morning. The night before, about 10:30 p.m., some clown comes barreling down our road, smashes into the side of our van, crushing the drivers side sliding door and takes off down the road. The wife is so angry she hops into the car and gives chase. She never finds the guy, however. I Call the police and about 2 hours later they finally come to make a report. The officer was nice enough and offered her condolences, but said that chances are, they wouldn't catch the guy who did it.

To add insult to injury, we just dropped the insurance coverage on the van to the minimum required by law. We figured, I only drive the van 5 miles to work. I am a safe driver. Chances are that I wont get into an accident and if some clown hits me negligently, my insurance company can sue them. We didn't foresee this option. I call the insurance company anyways the following day. That lady was also nice and offered her condolences, but anytime you talk to an insurance agent and they quote Murphy's Law, you're in trouble. She did say that should the police find the guy who did it, they will represent me in any claims. I can paraphrase the entire conversation as, "Too Bad, So Sad."

We have a single income family of four. While I don't complain about my pay too much, it doesn't give me any room to go out and buy another new car. For that matter, I really don't have the cash to go out and buy a nice used car, nor the credit rating to do so. While we're on the subject, a middle priced used car with some issues might be a little too much for me right now. I'm basically stuck looking for a junker that might last a year or two. Our search begins. Feel free to donate to our cause. Donation link on the right.

I have been starting every day since the hit and run by looking through Craigslist, an online classified ad service catered to local merchandise and job searches, personals, etc. I actually found a few cars that sounded like winners. Who wouldn't think these cars were great though with the way they word these ads. They always start with, "Runs great, new battery, fresh oil change, non-smoker, perfect interior, etc. "And after seeing them, always end with, "Needs engine or leaky gas tank."

This leads me to a side topic, The used car mentality. When you go into a dealership selling used cars, or when talking to anyone selling a used car, you get the same thing. Their car is gold, your trade in is crap. They will tell you everything that is good in the car like its the only important thing and act matter of factly about any detriments in the car while doing the opposite with any trade in you may have. This is because somewhere down the line, cars have become an item to haggle over. I don't really know why this is so. It's not like I can go into a grocery store and tell the cashier at the register that I only want to pay a quarter for the loaf of bread, and start debating the pros and cons of wonder bread over a hearty rye. What do you think they'll give me on a trade in for the bread I ate last week?

Anyways, the first car I see is an older model Dodge Van. It's one of those full size models. You know the kind you can put in surveillance equipment and go on a stake out in? So I have to drive 30 minutes to go check it out, when I get there, it doesn't even start. Of course the ad doesn't say anything about not starting or the fact that the entire van is going bald (i.e. paint peeling everywhere). Next car I go to look at is an older model Pontiac. Big car. Looks O.K. from the outside. The guy gives me the keys and I go for a test drive. The sign on the window says runs and drives beautifully. The problems are as follows; entire steering column moves about 30 degrees in every direction, the blinker switch won't function because of this, radio was ripped out by force, all four power windows don't work, it wont start without pumping the gas a lot, it rattled, knocked and generally was about to die. It did have new hubcaps though. The one I went to look at last night was nice enough. It wasn't pretty but it started and drove and the radio worked and everything. I test drove it, negotiated the price and was ready to buy. The guy then says he can't sell it till next week when he gets his new car. This is an inconvenience, but doable. I tell him to give me a call when he's ready to sell. He then re-posts it on Craigslist that night. I'm confused.

So we're still looking.