Saturday morning, I took our 16-year-old to join a group of strangers at an old building by some railroad tracks near the airport to perform what we were told would be “renovations/clean up” work. The initiative was arranged by our church, which asked that we perform 8,000 service hours this Christmas season (we did 15,000), and this was our part.  We went by Chick-fil-A for breakfast (where one is supposed to seek fuel before doing God’s work) and arrived early at the facility. When the group arrived, before we started receiving projects and breaking into teams, we learned how the facility in which we stood would be utilized.

I’d heard Atlanta had a bit of a sex trafficking issue, but I assumed it was exchanges occurring via connecting flights from the Far East to the Way North or Down South, and that the activity pretty much stayed at the world’s busiest airport, just south of the city.

I was wrong.  Actually, about 100 adolescent girls are sold sexually every single night in Atlanta.  It’s rampant, and it’s local.  Instead of flying to Costa Rica or Thailand for this type of sordid entertainment, these bastards are coming here.  It sometimes starts with 5 year olds.  It frequently begins with 9 year olds. They’re kidnapped, brainwashed, often drugged, and then sold over and over each night until they bring home $1,000 (often 10 tricks a night).  A typical pimp will have 5 girls he’s trafficking, so the revenue is astounding.  So astounding, in fact, it’s becoming the preferred source of income generation for gangs, instead of narcotics.  Drugs are sold and gone.  People can be reused, you see.

The place we gathered on Saturday offers a place to escape from this lifestyle, along with counseling, role modeling, and advocacy for the victims.  The building we visited was to become a refuge for former slaves to live, so that they’ll have a permanent address (needed to attend public school), a support network, counseling, etc.  In short, the walls I spackled and painted for 4 hours Saturday morning will soon house girls the same ages as two of the three girls who live in my house.  Girls who’ve been set free from the worst psychological and physical torture I can imagine.  Girls who were snatched from their lives and converted into property.

Having been a homeowner for over a decade, I’ve spackled, primed, and painted many a wall for my tenants, my family, and for myself.  But Saturday’s mudding was different.  Tiny pushpin holes I’d usually let go, I filled.  Barely noticeable crevices in closets, behind doors, next to baseboards, in corners–everywhere I saw a hole, a divot, or other imperfection–I wanted it filled and perfectly smoothed before painting.  I wanted these finished walls, once they became “home” for one of these victims, to be the most blemish-free addition to their recovery I could possibly muster.

As we got ready to leave, I picked up one of the brochures next to the door and turned to the “connect with us” section.  I filled out my personal information and checked boxes for “give,” “serve,” and “advocate.”  You can do the same here.

Because selling children for sex?  Is fucking evil.  I don’t care what God you do or don’t believe in, or what moral compass you do or don’t profess to have.  And I don’t see it going away on its own.

Filed under: children, atlanta child trafficking | 18 Comments

I try to categorize bad news as either:  1) a problem or 2) an expense.  If it’s just the latter, I can bust my ass, file a bunch of lawsuits, and make the issue go away.  But if it’s the former (or if the expense is…say…$20,000 or so), great weeping and gnashing of teeth commence.

On Thursday morning, my bride was at our newly-purchased “forever house” to start painting with her mother and overseeing the kitchen renovation when she called me to say this:

We have termites.

You know when Ferris notices the odometer and mentions it to Cameron?  Yeah.  She mentioned something about load bearing beams and jacks, and then I realized the date was December first, meaning my month of abstinence from alcohol had ended a few hours prior, which told me all was still in God’s loving hands.

Never mind that the lead paint test came back positive, too.

So, I spent the next few hours exploring litigation options between bouts of kicking myself and sprinting through the liquor store to prepare for what’s supposed to be my favorite event of the year:  my annual black tie optional Christmas party.  Which would have been a difficult arena for making merriment that particular day, given its beginnings, but for a spectacular gift brought an hour into the party by a special friend:

A gift that made all care melt away among the perfectly belted homages to INXS, Crowded House, Duran Duran, and other awesomeness from our ’80s cover band.

Because problem or expense, good friends and red eyes make everything better.

Filed under: Law, Neighborhood, real estate | 24 Comments

Thanks to the good folks at Philips Norelco, I got cool free equipment for concluding Movember.  And, they matched $15,000 of our team’s donations to eradicating men’s cancers!  This is what kicking ass looks like from a corporation.

And now, I give you “Movember Shrugs.”

If you too would like to upgrade your face like I did mine, look here for a special holiday season rebate that’ll help you get one of these bad boys for yourself!

Filed under: Movember, product reviews, norelco dads, philips norelco | 12 Comments

And if you let Dave at Blogography.com know you’ve donated, you totally get put into a drawing for cool prizes from Avitable and him! Today’s your last chance.  Otherwise, as a colleague at my office said today, I’ll go back to harassing Oliver Twist.

Filed under: Movember | 4 Comments

I just finished closing on the house we’ve pursued for the past several months.  It took 3.5 hours.  There were the 6 amendments to compile and review from the past two months.  There was the fact that the roofer has yet to be paid.  And someone forgot to get a termite letter.  Mostly, there was the tension of having fought for the past several weeks over whether or not this would be fixed:

The past owner had 4 satellite dishes, and HF antenna, a skylight, and solar cells on the roof that caused leaks.  Lots of them.  And the seller, despite my suggesting that it might be covered by homeowner’s insurance, refused to fix these leaks, even though the mortgage appraiser wouldn’t allow a loan without a new roof.  But once the insurance appraiser said it could be replaced via insurance (due to visible hail damage), the seller decided the price should go up to account for the deductible and the insurance premiums paid.  Somehow, this totaled $9,000.  We told our agent there was no way we were doing that and started looking elsewhere.  Except, there wasn’t anything of comparable size, location, potential, and price.  So we agreed, and I started getting estimates.

In the meantime, the sellers (executors for the past resident’s estate) took out things we’d expected would stay (and had voiced as much).  Like, the 70” TV on the wall, the refrigerator (who does that?), the window treatments (all of them), the grate over the fireplace, and other items one would normally consider fixtures, but since there was no disclosure statement outlining what was and wasn’t a fixture like there is with a normal sale (since it was estate-owned), we couldn’t say anything but repeated “WHAT THE FUCK?” exclamations.  Then we learned the furnace was dangerously outdated and screwed up, but there was no way in hell they would replace it (even though one of the 6 amendments said they would), so the two realtors agreed to pay to replace it if the sale would JUST GO THROUGH.

And just about the time we gave up on their returning the giant TV and the refrigerator, or their replacing the furnace, or their providing the home warranty we’d contracted for them to provide (the listing agent paid for this, too), I reminded them on the 6th amendment that the original contract provided for 4% of the loan to go to a contractor for renovation to the kitchen, and since the price had gone up $9,000, we should get an extra $360 toward that 4% figure.  This was more of a formality, really, as everyone had previously agreed to the percentage, and we really didn’t need to lay out that a measly $360 would need to be added to the other total, because who cares about $360 on a house that’s several hundred thousand dollars with no mortgages on it, and all the money from it is going to a single heir, and we’re supposed to close in a couple days–the fifth closing date (10/28, 11/11, 11/21, 11/23, 11/28), right?  Wrong.  The seller said to forget it; they were walking away over $360.  But, once again, the listing agent ponied up to cover her client’s greed and try to make the deal happen.  So, today, it finally did.

The most important lesson I learned (and would recommend anyone reading heed) is this:  don’t ever share the appraisal with the seller, if you’re the buyer, and it comes back higher than the contracted price.  I was busy the day it came and just forwarded the email to the agent, so that the required repairs could be seen and completed.  The tenor of the negotiations changed drastically once this was shared, as the seller appeared to no longer wish for our contract to close, presumably because she thought she could sell for more to someone else.

In any event, it’s over now.  We went over tonight to hide some of the Christmas presents we got via Craigslist last weekend in the new garage.  The painting and renovation start later this week.  That’s when this space becomes a home improvement blog!

Filed under: Neighborhood, buying a house, real estate | 18 Comments