Long story short: I finally got rid of my crap-ass MINI (@ $21000 loss/38000 miles, thank u Universal Shitty Mini) and bought my best-ex-in the-world's 1979 VW Super Beetle, in beautiful condition AND referral to the mechanic who's worked on it for 20 years. Mechanic even came to said ex's biiiig show last week.
Rains come: Beetle will not start; not a battery problem. I phone the mechanic. "Txx? Hi, It's Jxx's friend, I bought the Beetle, I think there might be an electrical problem. Could you look at it?"
He phones me back, listens to description of issue. "I don't want to work on fuel-injected VWs anymore." "Uhm yeah but I'm Jxx's ex-gf, could you just maybe come out and look at it this once? He said you were really reliable." "I thought he was going to sell it to somebody on the East Coast, I don't want to deal with it." "Well, but part of the reason I bought it is that it came with a mechanic. You're really letting me down." "Well sorry" *click*
Jxx went to bat with me for him, but I guess he (Txx) is so in-demand that he can afford to turn down jobs. Thing is! Txx's been fudging around with, um, regulations 4 years...what u say? Should I go there? I tend to go noble on this sort of thing, but...really. What an asshole.
On the other hand, everybody should rent "In Bruges!" And, at LAST, I posted :-)
Also: Carter Burwell = score. He is the man.
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