Super-speedy update...

Just a quick addendum...
Our attorney received a fax from the attorney of the jerks who bought our house (let's call them "JJ" from here on out), which essentially said we have until Thursday, April 19, to collect our things and get the hell out of Dodge. Yep. That's less than a week away now. The good news is I've accomplished a lot over the last couple of weeks in terms of getting rid of our JUNK. Really, there is probably about five years' worth of stuff that has piled up in various parts of the house, waiting for me to rummage through them and dispose of accordingly. We've made three Goodwill donation runs, with both my car and Zak's pickup truck COMPLETELY crammed full. So that's progress. And my niece and my sis-in-law came over on Thursday and brought boxes and helped begin the daunting and terrifying task of weeding through the boys' room! And my friend Sarah has been tremendous, making phone calls, organizing a packing party, and generally being a kick ass friend. Thanks to everyone keeping us in their thoughts. It's times like this when you can feel lower than a smushed snail on the bottom of a Birkenstock, and still be able to recognize the blessings of having such great friends and family.
I've got a kid waiting patiently for me to wrap it up,so I am off to stuff some more boxes. Peace.

And today's scores...The Man: One Zillion...Ninjas: Zero

Well, it would seem that all the gumption in the world is no match for the power of the dollar.
Sucks for us.
Our attorney received a letter from the attorney of the guys who bought our house at auction, giving us until April 19 to get the hell out.
The trustee's office, who we called this morning, will not speak with us, as we need to go through the "proper channels," meaning our attorney.
We are signing a release to allow us to speak with them.
I still might contact the news, but at this point Zak wants me to wait until after our Chapter 7 is finalized. Like they could really hurt us any more than they already have.
I'm at a loss here. Defeated, depressed, pissed off...pretty much pick one. Or twelve. My poor kiddos...
I guess I'd better start packing...we do have a place to go, God bless family. But I've got to worry now about our pets, too. AGGGGH.
ANYWAY,
Thanks to everyone for your continued good thoughts and wishes and support. It means so much more than you could ever know.
I'll post again when I can, or if anything changes.
Can anyone help me out in getting a crap load of boxes? Thanks.
Peace.

DON'T mess with the ninja. I'm so NOT kidding...

Sooooo...
After two nights now of virtually no sleep, I've had an epiphany.
It's definitely my job to get this crap straightened out. So here's my plan. I emailed the following to our trustee, our attorney, the Department of Justice Trustees branch, Peter DeFazio and our realtor:

Dear Mr. XXXXXX,
I am writing to you in an effort to resolve an urgent issue regarding our current Chapter 7 bankruptcy filing, and the foreclosure sale of our home. My name is Angela Zacharek, and my husband Aaron and I are working with {attorney's name} to file this bankruptcy. In March, {attorney's name} office sent the appropriate requests and motions to ask that our home be given a stay, to allow us to attempt to sell our home ourselves and therefore prevent a foreclosure marking on our credit, as well as provide our family with the means to find a new place to live and essentially give us a fresh start. We followed the rules. It was our understanding that the house would not be included in the scheduled foreclosure auction on April 9. We found a buyer, who made an offer and we accepted it, with the contingent that it be approved by you, our appointed trustee. Our First Meeting of Creditors is scheduled for Monday, April 16. Unfortunately we learned that the house had indeed been included in the auction, and I discovered this when an insurance agent came to my home on Monday the 9th to take photos for his new client. I explained that this had to be an error, and I was making the necessary phone calls to find out what happened when the men who bought the house at auction came to my door. I told them the same thing, and evidently they contacted you, and you told them that the sale was valid. How can that be true? I am shocked that our rights seem to have been ignored. We followed the proper channels and did what we knew to be the correct things according to our attorney and the law. I am left asking the question: what happened? How is it fair, just or right that our family followed the rules and are left with absolutely nothing? The answer is that it is NOT fair, right or just. Clearly we seem to have very little power or voice in this matter, and I am desperate to find the way to resolve this. Respectfully, sir, you do have that power. It has become clear to my husband and myself that we are our own best advocates here and we cannot sit by and allow this to happen. I beg you to please give this your attention. I understand that you are extremely busy, and that this case has no real effect on your life. But it is our life, our future and the future of our kids. We have come out of a horrific series of events in our life, and we are motivated to continue to move forward in a positive direction. Please, please help us do that. I can be reached at the above email address, and my home phone number is xxxxxxx. I can also be reached by cell phone at xxxxx, and my husband Aaron can be reached by cell phone at xxxxx. We truly need your assistance.
Thank you,

I also sent a copy of the email I sent myself detailing Monday's events. My hope is that this will make something happen. If I don't hear anything today, I'm calling the local news. I'm so beyond pissed and righteous indignation now, I'm just sliding into survival mode. They can kiss my ample caboose.
I'll keep ya'll posted...
Ha ha, posted.
PEACE

The Auction That Broke The Camel's Back (With ME As The Camel)

Before I start, could those of you who swear please shout as many expletives as possible on my behalf? Seriously. Go ahead. I'll wait.
...
Thanks.
Now, could those of you who pray please do so now, both for help from above for me and mine, as well as for the folks who just waxed potty-mouth at my behest?
...
Thanks again.
Now for the explanation.
Yesterday was supposed to be the foreclosure auction for our house. We were told, by our attorney, that because we filed our Chapter 7, that the foreclosure would be frozen until after our Meeting of Creditors (which is a fancy way of saying when we meet with the judge). We had lucked into a buyer for the house, accepted his offer, and were waiting to close until we met with the bankruptcy trustee, as it was necessary for him to sign off on the property. If all went according to plan and prayer, we would have been able to walk away with a little bit of money to start over in a new place. Which we desperately need to do. Sounds OK, right? Well, no.
It's so far from OK I can't even see OK from where I am standing.
My kids and I were home yesterday with a bit of a stomach virus, and I was waiting for my mom-in-law to drop by with a few essentials. I went to the living room to gather some items that needed to make their way to her house, and I noticed a big truck parked in front of my house. I should have known, should have FREAKING known that no good could come of this. I was totally right. The guy in the truck got out and took a picture of the house (complete with my resplendent self standing in the front window). He came to the door and gave me his card, he's an insurance agent who represents the guy who bought our house, and he was here to take photos of the insurance policy. Fine. But the guy he said he represented is NOT the guy we signed papers with. Which is what I told him, and he was appropriately confused. He left, and evidently called his client, who came by to find out what the h-e-double hockey sticks was going on. Turns out, he bought our house at auction that morning.
Please swear again for me. A lot.
I told him about the situation, he and his partner took in the info and left. When I finally got ahold of my attorney, I was told that yes, the house had been sold at auction and that they had spoken to our judge, who had told them the sale was valid. He didn't care about the property, it had no bearing on the case. And I damn near passed out. The phone call lasted awhile, as I was put on hold several time to discuss the situation with the dude that said he bought the house...let me sum it up:
My attorney pretty much told me that he didn't know what he could do outside of spending a bunch of money in a lawsuit. WHAT?! Who is the attorney here? Who has the education to know what to do? And never mind that, who has the phone numbers of the people to call to set this right? Answer? NOT ME. Granted, it was nearly five p.m. and everybody wanted to go home, and I was left with a pounding headache, nausea, and was coming dangerously close to stroking out from all the stress. So I asked the attorney for the number of the guy he had spoken to, who bought the house at auction. He pretty much said he couldn't advise me to call and speak to him, as it was a legal matter, but that it was definitely my choice. DUH. Clearly nobody else was going to nut up and speak for me. So I called the guy. And I essentially sobbed, pleaded, and begged him to back out of the deal. He seemed pretty cool, and pretty understanding, but I don't know if it was an act or if he really is willing to help us out. I have my suspicions...but I am praying that I'm wrong.
What the hell do I do now? I left a message for the attorney, which basically said I want to know who f-ed this up and how they were going to fix it. I haven't heard anything back. I am terrified to call my realtor, although I am fairly certain he's received a call already from these guys who were at the auction. I AM SO PISSED. I am right back at square one, with no money, no help and no flipping options. I seem to have no legal voice, although the attorney generously said he would look into the codes in the matter and see what he could find. But it was pretty clear he didn't want to deal with it because we don't have the money to pay him to do it. I am sick. I am tired. And I'm about ready to lose my fool mind. Indecision, ineptitude and complete lack of empathy are at the top of my shit list right now, and I aim to get some answers. The problem is that I'm not sure where to start. But I will call the realtor and tell him what happened, and a good friend suggested that I try to get the original buyer (OUR buyer) rallied and on our side. Or his own side, as it were. I need to call the second buyer again and reiterate how important this whole deal was to our family. People don't seem to understand how desperate we are. Or maybe they do, and they just don't give a double shit. Whatever it is, I'm DONE. My "positive" attitude has changed to one of kicking ass and taking names. As many names as possible. If anybody has advice, feel free to comment.
And if anybody has a clue when it will be our turn to get things right, please holler at me. I'm waiting...

Behold, His Mighty Hand!

Oh joy! Oh rapture! It's Easter, and that can mean only one thing, kids:
THE TEN COMMANDMENTS!!!!!!!!!!
Too many exclamation points? Oh no. Not possible. We are talking about Cecil B. DeMille's MASTERPIECE, The Ten Commandments. Charleton Heston. Freakin' Moses! Plagues! Aimless wandering! Flaming shrubbery! And YUL BRENNER! I. Love. This. Movie.
Every year I wait for that joyful time of year when a young girl's (okay not so young...) thoughts turn to Moses and ABC throws caution and ratings to the wind to brazenly eat up four and one-half hours of airtime to bring this fine example of cinematic wonder to the masses. It's the day I pine for, and my family dreads. And to think, there was a moment this year when I feared the streak was over...I had seen absolutely zero promos for the wonder that is The Ten Commandments, and I had the sinking feeling last year that it might be the last time I could find the movie on Network TV. I mean, last year we had a "new" version, with that guy Dougray Scott (now on Desperate Housewives, kids) playing Moses. I watched it, but there was no comparison. Anyway, I figured with the new version and perhaps waning interest in the old one, I would have to break down and buy the thing on DVD. Cut to Saturday morning, April 7: I was sitting on my bed getting ready to meet my mom to do some Easter errands, watching the new Power Rangers (don't judge me, we don't have cable), and suddenly, like a ray of sunshine I heard those words: "Behold, His mighty hand!" And I whooped, whistled and sang Hallelujah!!!! And, as you might expect, my family left out a collective groan. The rest of my day was one of joy, I raced through the errands and came home to do quick haircuts and iron Easter duds, slapped some hash on a plate for dinner and retired to partake in my yearly ritual. And it did not disappoint. Remember the story? Do I care? Not really. I'm gonna go there whether you do or don't. Poor little Hebrew slave baby, packed into a basket and set adrift on the Nile to escape the death squads...but as luck would have it (or some would argue divine intervention, obviously, as the prophecies all called for a "Deliverer" to come and free the slaves...), he gets pulled from the water and is raised as the son of Pharaoh's sister.


He's now Moses, Prince of Egypt!! Yahoo!! And he gets to flirt and play with Nefertiri, who gets to marry the next Pharaoh, and egads, she's hoping for Moses, not Ramses...and Moses gets to be in charge of building the Pharaoh's big-ass city dedicated to, well, himself. Ramses is pissy and angry and jealous. Pretty much the whole time. And Moses saves old Yochabel from being crushed by the stones...and a bunch of other stuff happens, and pretty soon it's discovered that his true parentage is Hebrew.
So he gets the big toe of Pharaoh's sandal in his ass and is sent to wander the desert. And just when he is fixin' to expire, he stumbles onto a well in the land of Midian, surrounded by Jethro's seven horny daughters. Oh Hell Yessss. Eventually Moses marries Sephora, who seems to be named after a snazzy and expensive health spa...and he has to chase a sheep up the mountain (I think we've all been there, haven't we?). He finds the sheep (I think), and when he does he sees the burning bush. Instead of running away for water, or just plain running away, Moses figures out that the bush has something to say, so he listens. Good thing, too, because it turns out the bush was just the vessel for the voice of God, who tells Moses he's got some work to do. So Moses says, yep, cool, I've got your back, and heads back down the mountain, now sporting a nifty new Ogilvie home perm and a slightly dazed expression. He goes back to Pharaoh, who is now Ramses, and tells everyone that he must free the slaves or a whole ton of whoop-ass is going to come to pass. You know, rain of fire, toads, killing of the first born, yadda yadda yadda. Ramses, who happens to like himself a whole big bunch, pretty much tells Moses, "Bite me," and...yup, you guessed it. Whoop. Ass. Finally, after the last plague kills Ramses only son, he says fine, go get the funk out. So the Hebrews pack up kith and kin and head for the promised land. They get to the Red Sea and realize that Ramses has his army of dudes in chariots and skirts hot on their heels, and after some mid-level panic, Moses pretty much shuts everyone up by holding up his stick and parting the seas. The Hebrews haul ass across the sea floor, and as soon as they are out they turn to see Pharaoh's army closing in fast. But not to worry, God and Moses have them covered. WHOOSH! The waves crash back together and all the soldiers and Hebrew haters get dead. Quick. Then they wander some more. Now, I know I am minimizing a bit. OK, a lot. But you don't have four hours to read this and I don't have four to write. So relax. I'm almost done. Anyway, the people start to get uneasy again, so Moses goes for another hike. You know how kids act when Mom and Dad leave and the babysitter is kind of a wuss? Yeah, that's pretty much what happens here. Without Moses to guide them, the kids get unruly and throw a party and start hooking up with one another and making wine and building the golden calf...and we know that can't be good. While they are doing that, Moses is dodging lightning bolts on the mountain and getting yet another fabulous new hairdo while the Lord carves the commandments into stone. Once he's rinsed and combed out, Moses grabs the tablets and motors back down the mountain, where he finds debauchery, sin and general tomfoolery has overtaken the camp. So he kicks a LOT of ass, and eventually all the sinners are wiped out. Once that's over (and that took awhile, dontcha know), they pretty much fine the land of Milk and Honey, and get all excited. Yay! But...once again, Moses is the wounded one. He has to stay outside the Promised Land. God pretty much tells him he messed up too many times and well, sucks for him but good job on the rest of the gang. Sooooooo. There ya go. Moses gets to wave his big stick (out of the gutter, you), get two makeovers, but doesn't get to go to the party. Like being stood up on Prom night. AGGGGGGGHHHH. But it's sooo good. Next time it's on (or take a chance and rent it...it's not like it's a new release...), check it out. Revel in the glory that is the special effects industry in 1951. Rockin'. And please note the costumes...my personal favorite are the Clorox bottles the wardrobe department decorated the night before the shoot started to look like the royal head gear of the Pharaoh and his pals. Damn fine movie watching. Pop the corn and screen your calls. It's totally worth it.

Really, McDonald's? Not so much loving it...

Uh, I realize that this may not be earth shattering in any way to anyone besides me, but have you seen the "new" McDonald's ads, Dollar Menunaires? Dumb enough to begin with, and I really don't want to think about the whole process of dreaming up that winner of a campaign. I'm pretty sure the meetings for this account took place in the bar down the street from the office, after about ten pitchers of PBR and a fifth of Tequila. So it's bad enough that I actually pay attention to things like this, but I do, and it's your misfortune to have to see it now too. The ad begins innocuously enough, with extra-cute Abercrombie wannabes all jumping into a cute old-fashioned car and driving around with their adorable shoes hanging out the car window, eating from the fabulous selections on McDonald's Dollar Menu (which I do love and endorse, by the way, much cheaper than Happy Meals...) So you're just kind of bobbing along with the lame-ness when suddenly we are treated to a completely RANDOM appearance from this guy:
Yep, that's good old David Faustino, AKA Bud Bundy. He pops up a few seconds into the commercial with a "ROAD TRIP!" announcement, then also says some other stuff. I don't know what he says after "ROAD TRIP," because each time I see it I am distracted by the "What the HELL is he doing here" factor. First of all, I don't miss David Faustino enough to consider it retro or nostalgic that he is hawking burgers now. Dollar burgers, for that matter. Second of all, where did this even come from? Reference point, please. Maybe I'm missing something, but I really don't get it. I know, it's just a commercial. But come ON. I am wondering if there is going to be some kind of follow up, or a series of related ads...usually it seems like when corporations do a series of related ads, they will release the full series fairly quickly. Not so, Mickey D's. Hmmm. I guess the bad news for me is I will have to wait to see if anything follows (and you know I will be watching). The good news for McDonald's is that not only have I seen this ad and thought about it long after the forty-five seconds of commercial had ended, but I watched it closely every time it was on (which was A LOT) during an evening of quality tv viewing. They totally saw me coming. But as you know, that's how I roll. So go, Bud, go. Anyway, I am working on something a litte more in depth than this cheesy crap (I AM), and with any luck I'll get that posted soon. So the two of you who actually read this can relax. Ha ha. But until then, here's a little something to keep you going:
Oh yeah. That was some good tv. Don't mess with a Bundy, dammit.
Peace.