The Best Streets in Los Angeles - $$$!

If you'd like to know where and what the most desirable streets in L.A. are, check out this great report in the L.A. Times by Lauren Beale:

http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-hot-streets27-2010mar27,0,6734165.story

There is a high price for "Spectacular"!

DOG BITES AGENT: DOG TREATED FOR POISONING

Real estate agents have gotten a dirty rap lately. We are rated right up there with psoriasis and Bernie Madoff. Sure, we have some snarky specimens lurking amongst us, but can't that be said of every profession? I decided to make a Warning Signs list of whom to avoid in real estate. Of course, this is Gwen's TGIF list...but what else would you expect from me? Here you go, Agents, Sellers and Buyers - an equal-opportunity help guide to the perfect real estate relationship:

First for the Buyers and Sellers: Never Hire an AGENT Who:

1) Greets you with his right hand, while vigorously adjusting his crotch with his left.
2) Has a coaster protruding from his shirt pocket that says Bury Me at the Lush Lounge
3) Looks at your house and says, "You need to put some lipstick on this pig."
4) Sits on your dog...and enjoys the experience.
5) Removes his sock and uses it to polish his bald spot
6) Says you look like his old cellmate from county lock-up...who was "a hottie."
7) Tells you you look like Golda Meir..."who was a hottie"
8) Continuously asks your lamp, "Whatdya say?"
9) Talks like Julia Child and brags about his Star Jones wig collection
10) Says "I never miss a detail, Betty," ...and your name is Sue

And for the Agents: Never Work With a BUYER Who:

1) Brags that his FICO scores are lower than his double digit IQ
2)...For More DOG BITES AGENT, please click here

Real Estate Tales From The Streets of Hollywood

After a reader read my rant last week, "R U Networking or NOTworking," he challenged me to try a day of face-to-face marketing. (For those of you who cannot recall what that is, it involves getting out of your chair.) Moron that I am, I accepted his challenge and headed out onto the mean streets of Los Angeles to solicit clients. This is the bizarre story I barely lived to tell:

8:00 am: I pop out of bed. (That's early for us showbiz types.) After donning my fake designer duds I head out the door of my Hansel-and-Gretel-size overpriced house, jump into my leased Mercedes, wave to my stoned neighbor, try to back over a slow-moving kid (hey - this is L.A., not Iowa - speed or bleed!), and serpentine down Laurel Canyon with throngs of other Los Angelinos who feel that driving should never distract them from texting. Twenty minutes later, I finally arrive at Rite-Aid Drugs, which is practically walking distance to my house.

9:30 am: I run into Rite-Aid to grab a few of the props I will need for marketing: 1. Red Bull. (I do not drink caffeine because my synapses are already challenged, but I must have it visible in my car in order to look cool.) 2. Gourmet dog cookies and 3. Pepper Spray, which the somnolent salesclerk insists they don't sell. When I tell her I am about to embark on direct marketing and ask if the store sells firearms, she threatens to call the manager. I slip out the door before the manager/actor/bartender/waiter can find me and assault me with a head shot.
That's Not What I Had in Mind, Waldo!

9:45 am: Outside the store a group of people have congregated. With utmost confidence, I approach the group and hand out my business cards, offering to price their homes or answer any questions they may have, as though I am the Oracle of Re-fi. One guy asks me if I will marry him and have his demon spawn, and another turns his back on me and pees on a nearby newspaper stand.

TO CONTINUE WITH TALES OF HOLLYWOOD REAL ESTATE, PLEASE CLICK HERE

What'd You Say, Willis???

It's difficult being an internet moron. I should know. I am always amazed when tech geniuses speak freely in another language that involves pings, tracking, SEO's and a list of other words that baffle me. I am a fossil - a writer who was told I could write if I blog. Heck, I can barely type, so diving into Word Press and Flickr was about as easy for me as getting a sex change. Before my maiden voyage, I thought "blog" was a state of physical distress caused by too much salt on my margaritas. So here I am, in a world gone mad with technology and new phrases, with no translator.

There must be other morons like me out there. Hello? Are you there? Buck up and admit you are as dense as I am! On behalf of all of us internet-challenged relics, I am herein providing a vocabulary of words as we know them, so that maybe those Geniuses will understand that they must communicate to some of us through our own portal (whatever that is.) Here it is folks - straight off the Rosetta stone - Vocabulary of the Internet Clueless:

Website - Vision after 45 (Or after a Colt 45)

Tags - Fleshy outcroppings that should be lopped off

SEO - Serious Estrogen Overload (Not limited to Pamela Anderson...or Clay Aiken)

Upload - A high colonic

Download - The aftermath of too many burritos

Portal - Location of a Download

Search Engine - A drill performed by those idiots who lost that fire truck in Iowa

Twitter - PeeWee Herman on Red Bull

Flash Drive - Britney on Hollywood Blvd.

Tweet - "Sweet" - as pronounced in West Hollywood (and by Clay Aiken)

Active Rain - A serious incontinence problem

FOR MORE TRANSLATIONS FOR THE INTERNET CHALLENGED, PLEASE CLICK HERE:

Caravan From Hell Revisited

A few months ago I told you about the caravan with bats in the fireplace, but this story would make you wish for a bat...maybe even a pterodactyl or two. It takes place in Los Angeles of course. What better place to get a healthy heap of crazy on a sunny Tuesday morning? My friend told me the story, and I swear she's not a candidate for re-hab. Of course, after this incident she would have had justification. Please enjoy:
Ole!
Yes, it was a sunny Tuesday morning and agents were gathering for a lovely L.A. caravan day. Jan was doing a second brokers' open, as her listing just wasn't getting any action. In order to re-new interest, Jan had ordered the usual nice luncheon to entice hungry realtors and their (hopefully) hungry buyers. The bill of fare included a selection of Mexican dishes from La Salsa and home made guacamole. Jan was humming, birds were singing, and the bougainvillea was bougaining. You get the picture.

Jan was nearly ready to go when Neighbor Nate blew in like the fresh scent of septic. Nate padded through the door wearing mangy bedroom slippers, gym shorts and a Tee shirt that looked like a death shroud. He said he was a neighbor, but he wasn't sure what direction he had come from. Jan, sympathetic to the challenges of the elderly, could not see past the wreckage that was Nate, or she might have been wary of the crazy captain of his shriveled ship. But noooo, she asked him to make himself at home and have a bite to eat while she set out desserts.
Bring on the Entertainment
Nate crammed a mini taco past his mine field of yellow teeth and mushy gums, and he was reaching for another when his body thanked his hostess with a loud bit of rumbling, accompanied by an odor that made the burritos smell like hibiscus. Assessing the sitch, Jan moved quickly to steer the gas-filled octogenarian away from the Mexican food and toward the cookies. Alas, whatever he swallowed was accompanied by a hearty gust of flatulence that he either couldn't hear, or just heartily enjoyed. Jan said the fumes were so bad they could only have been covered with formaldehyde. She may have even momentarily considered blowing out the candles due to the flammable nature of Nate's gift that kept on giving.

Jan, always quick on her feet, did a body blockade of the table and thrust some carrot sticks at the old relic. She plastered a smile on her face and cheerfully insisted that Nate and his internal fumigation machine go look at the rest of the house. Nate complied, dragging his shriveled frame out of the kitchen and down the hall, his spindly legs lost in his baggy gym shorts like abandoned Popsicle sticks. He left her with a whiff of Nate before moving on his merry way. As the first group of cars pulled up out front, Jan heated cookies in the oven to create a delicious fragrance to try to disguise Nate's toxic cloud.
Always Keep the Party Lively
When the first group entered, they signed in and proceeded to head for the table like buzzards on carrion. The group was friendly and conversant, so much so that Jan forgot about her other visitor. When a second wave entered, the first group proceeded on a tour of the house, and Jan continued the friendly banter.

Suddenly there was a scream in the bedroom. In a flash of memory so vivid that Jan thought she was passing into the Light, she remembered Nate. She said she doesn't remember her sprint down the hall, but she does remember the scene awaiting her. There on the bed, stripped of all his clothes, lay a beaming Nate. As the group stood in horror, Jan tried to pull the spread around him, but his seersucker body was anchoring it down.

Several agents came to their injured senses and fled down the hall to head off any newcomers while Jan picked up Nate's shirt and threw it over his deflated package. Unfortunately, Nate did not WANT his package covered, so he kept tossing off the garments faster than she could retrieve them and telling her to "get out of my room or I'm calling Celia."
Good Manners Can Go a Long Way
Her patience shot, Jan ran back to the kitchen to call the police. Before they could arrive, Nate appeared back in the kitchen, carrying his clothes. He grabbed a cookie and flashed a crumpled grin. "Thank you for a really nice time," he said. "I'm going to get Celia and bring her over to say hello." Nate turned as Jan stood speechless, watching while the sun reflected off two atrophied buns as they dutifully followed their master out the door.

Of course, this was aptly timed with the arrival of Dan, an agent from her office who heard Nate's expression of gratitude. Dan sized up naked Nate and grinned at Jan like a fourteen year old who had just gotten his first glimpse of his teacher's cleavage. Red-faced Jan didn't bother to explain, knowing that the story would take on a life of its own back at the office.

Ever the dutiful agent, Jan went back to straighten the bedroom and noticed that poor Nate had left a carrot stick on the pillow...and a urine spot on the bedspread. When she glanced out the window, she saw a policeman gently guiding Nate into the back of a police car, hopefully to help him find his way home.

Of course, no one ever found out who Celia was, but if she's hiding from Nate, who could blame her? And if Jan now has a fear of old men in gym shorts, who could blame her?
Prologue
I think we can all learn something from this story. 1) If someone seems dyspeptic, usher them toward the door, not away from it. 2) Always keep track of your guests, especially the ones whose eyes are like Jack Nicholson's in The Shining. 3) If a guest cannot remember where they came from, or what they came for, chances are they won't remember why they should keep their clothes on. 4) Never let anyone leave without your business card. The one odor worse than flatulence is the odor of an old listing!

Thank you Jan, and all my friends at Nelson Shelton, Sotheby's International Realty and Keller-Williams for your great stories. First posted on Agent Genius on 06/05/09

Words to Avoid in Real Estate

YIKES!
This post in UnReal Estate was inspired by a recent conversation with an agent who told me that the house on the hill above was slipping, “but only a little.” I live in earthquake territory, folks. There’s no such thing as “slipping a little.” That’s like being “partially pregnant.” Thus, I asked around and gathered some contributions to the Words to Avoid list. Please enjoy:
First, the Absurd…
“Oh, heck, we all grew up with black mold.” (Is that why your eyes roll inward and your tongue hangs out?)
“They had a pot-bellied pig that ruined the carpet.” (I had a pot-bellied husband that ruined the couch.)
“The old lady next door is crazy but nice.” (So I should ignore the face in the window?)
“The place was busted because the owner’s father had a brewery in the basement.” (No problem – my grandmother had a meth lab in the bathroom.)
“The heating lamp in the bathroom needs attention.” (No wonder your hair is on fire.)
“This was used as a grow house.” (No wonder I have the munchies.)
“The four dogs next door seldom ever bark.” (Then I will “seldom” ever use my tranquilizer darts.)
“The lights flicker and dim sometimes, but it’s nothing to worry about.” (Sell that to the guys on Death Row.)
“It may be showing some wear and tear, but it’s obviously not going anywhere.” (That’s what they said about the Titanic.)
And now, the Sublime…
“A little baking soda will get rid of the smell.” (But will it get rid of their bad taste?)
“The lime in the crawl space is to absorb moisture.” (So what’s with the hatchet and the duct tape?)
“The odor was from something that got trapped in the crawl space.” (Has anyone found the agent?)
“Although it’s filthy, they never had vermin.” (Oh yeah…that explains the 14 morbidly obese cats.)
“The house isn’t bolted, but it’s very secure.” (No problem -The buyer is with Indymac - they’re very secure.)
“His score is low…but he’s working on it.” (My patience is low…so get outta my face.)
“That’s a pine cone in the pool.” (And I suppose that’s lemonade in the toilet.)
“The cracks in the foundation are small.” (So is our offer.)
“You should see the garden when it’s lit.” (You should see my uncle when he’s lit…)
“Can I still get zero per cent financing?” (Let me explain the signs of mercury poisoning and its effects on the brain…)
“The soggy area above the septic tank is from the sprinklers” (You’re full of crap.)
“All those steps will keep you in shape.” (So why are you carrying that defibrillator?)
“The pool leaks.” (So does Aunt Bea when she sneezes.)
“The lawn sprinklers don’t work.” (Then call Aunt Bea.)
And Those Words We Hear Most Often:
“Can you reduce the size of your commission?” (About as easily as I can reduce the size of my butt.)
“It’s been sitting for months with no activity!” (So has Aunt Bea, but she doesn’t complain.)
“I think we’re backing out of escrow.” (Fine. Now grab this frayed wire and touch your tongue to this metal pole and…)

Thanks to my colleagues at Sotheby’s International Realty and my friends at Coldwell Banker and Keller Williams for all your funny stories. First posted on Agent Genius on 05/29/2009

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

Recently I have heard some hilarious tales of wild animal capers at open house events. Many of these anecdotes come from my agent friends in Lake Arrowhead. And you thought YOU had problems...
Easy Rider
I'm told there are bear travel routes at Lake Arrowhead. I'm not sure if there are biker bars for the critters to hang out and knock back brewskis, but the routes are detours created by the animals themselves as they cruise around the mountains. As a result, there are many bear sightings in the area.
An agent I know was with a client when they parked at the cabin she had just listed. As they approached the porch, they glanced at the pickup truck parked in the driveway and were delighted to see a baby bear asleep in the flatbed.
They observed the little guy for a short time, ooh-ing and ah-ing and discussing whom to call. Duh. Suddenly the answer came to them...in the form of a shadow the size of the Statue of Liberty. Paralyzed with fear, they tried not to move a muscle. Finally, when the words "main course" permeated their individual skulls, they turned on cue and walked slo-o-o-ly to the front porch. They managed to get inside without losing any limbs, but not before the frantic client had wet her pants. After the bears eventually left, the hapless women departed. The agent was shaking uncontrollably, and the client had to sit on a towel all the way home.
(Moral of the story: Ya' know how you just want to pick up a little bear and cuddle it? Well Mama Bear wants to cuddle you, too...and then crack your head open, rip out your eyeballs with claws the size of hedge clippers, and then suck the meat off your skinny little flailing legs...accompanied by a fine Pinot Noir of course. So avoid even baby bears, fool!)
Bears Need To Relax, Too
One agent had seen bears in the area of his listing and had dutifully informed his clients. While preparing for Brokers Open, he set a bag of dog food on the back porch in his efforts to tidy the kitchen. Halfway through caravan, there was pandemonium in the back forty. When he and several agents ran outside to investigate the chaos, they saw the dog food scattered everywhere.
As the agent stooped to retrieve the bag, he looked across the yard. To his shock, a brown bear was splashing lazily in the spa right under the hand-crafted "Don't Piss In Pool " sign. The group high-tailed it inside, barricaded the doors, and armed themselves with whatever they could grab. The agent had to scream out the window at any latecomers, warning them to get outta Dodge, while everyone already there remained holed up in the house until animal control arrived.
When Animal Control finally burst in, they admonished the agent for a lapse in judgement, but only after they had a good laugh. It seems that one guy was brandishing a fireplace poker as a weapon, and the listing agent was armed with a lovely umbrella. The agent was very embarrassed, but the worst insult was the floater left in the spa by the annoyed bear.
(Moral of the story: If you are on a bear route, never place Dog Food outside unless the bears on your route are Harvard grads and can read the words "Dog Food," and "Don't Piss in Pool." Less educated bears may think the sign says "After enjoying the bear bidet...please help yourself to the squealing agents huddled inside and screaming like girly-men.")
Let's Not Forget the Raccoons
This story was enough to make me stop serving food outside. An agent had set up a lovely luncheon at a house near the lake. Out of nowhere, there was a blur of action on the hillside. A raccoon scampered down the hill, a barking dog with a beer belly close at it's heals. The raccoon ran around the trash bins and then took shelter in a tight space behind the pool equipment. The determined dog apparently had gone to a Tony Robbins seminar and did not know the meaning of giving up. He did everything possible to get the raccoon to expose himself (so to speak). However, the wily raccoon, while less educated, had street smarts and was waiting for his posse to show up and ice the dog.
Enter the agent. Upset by the ear-splitting chaos, the agent grabbed a utensil and a metal dish and created a cacophony of noise, hoping to scare off the intruders. It worked. Sort of. The raccoon screeched, tore out of his hiding place, and for a split second in time, he stared down the source of the mind-numbing noise. Finally he headed for elevation...the luncheon table being the nearest high spot. The portly dog was too fat to jump onto the table, so he tried to claw his way up the table cloth. The agent, frantically banging her bowl, watched helplessly as inch by inch the entire spread headed south in slow motion. The food explosion was followed immediately by the sound of the table collapsing. The last she saw of the quiche-covered dog or the crazed raccoon was a departing blur back up the hillside. She gave up and threw the bowl in disgust before collapsing in tears.
(Moral to the Story: If you're going to Bang a Gong, know your audience, Wang Chung!)
And This One is For The Birds
Picture a lovely summer day in California. French doors were open wide, flowers were in bloom, and the agent was preparing for the first Public Open House. Suddenly a Blue Jay flew into the living room and became disoriented. Confused and frazzled, the feathered intruder attempted to fly out via the skylights. After being thwarted in its numerous attempts to escape, the bird landed on a beam to rest. The agent, also confused and frazzled, decided to deal with the party crasher after the open house was over.
Enter the public. As the agent showed the house and gave her pitch, a menacing kid turned on a screeching musical toy that set off the downfall of society. The bird, already confused and excited, began to circle overhead frantically seeking an exit. As the voices of the startled group melded into a chorus of screams, the bird responded back in kind...by crapping all over the well-appointed living room. The more the visitors screamed, the more the bird emptied the contents of his well-stocked bowels. By the time the agent managed to herd everyone out, the seller's furniture was upholstered in cottage cheese. The bird remained for several hours more, no doubt taking photos and texting his friends.
(Moral of the Story: If a bird crashes your party, call the wily raccoon to chase the feathered interloper outside. Then call the dog in as an enforcer to offer the raccoon a deal he can't refuse. Then hire the bear to scare the beejeesus out of the wiseguy dog. Then call animal control to drag the bear away after he uses your spa as a bidet, but before he gets out his dining utensils and slaps you onto a plate. After that, call all the agents who called you "fool" and invite them to a party in the spa...and leave the floater.)
And a Short One For the Road
Did you hear about the German Shepherd who knocked down the agent's tent sign and relieved himself all over it as the caravan was arriving? I actually witnessed the performance...and the two curtain calls.
(Moral of the Story: It seems everyone is a critic. Go do the same thing in his bowl - that will teach him to be a bit less judgmental next time.)
Thank you, Lake Arrowhead!

"HAM ON WRY"

I have collected so many hilarious stories from my colleagues about open house debacles that I have titled this post, "Ham on Wry: It's NOT a Good Idea To..." If you recognize yourself in any of these tales from the trenches, my advice is to plead the Fifth :
It's Not a Good Idea To:
...To ignore the dead parakeet in the cage (Unless you killed him - then play dumb and whistle a lot.)
...To decorate the serving plates with an unidentified shiny leaf from the hillside. (Unless you are serving Calamine dip and Benedryl punch.)
...To set the hand made lace tablecloth ablaze with your Crème Brulee butane torch, and then pour the Chianti on the fire to extinguish it. (Unless you can beat it the hell out of Dodge before the owner arrives home with a can of fava beans and a fork.)
...To serve spaghetti at your open house where the carpets are new...and white...and the owner is a Red Bull addicted L.A. Agent with a bad attitude. (Unless Dr. Kervorkian just wasn't available to assist you in your time of need.)
...To serve a Stilton cheese tray on a warm California day (Unless you're expecting a swarm of podiatrists who are accustomed to the smell of foot fungus.)
...To forget about the tree house until the moans from above interfere with your sales pitch. (Unless it's here in Laurel Canyon - the canyon of "Piece and Love." Uh, I mean "Peace and Love.")
...To disclose that there is a crazy woman next door...to the crazy woman next door. (Unless you want to be ground into pate and thrown into a cement mixer that's in the driveway...of the crazy lady next door.)
...To put the space heater on the table near the fish bowl. (Unless you advertised a Fish Fry.)
...To allow the old lady with flatulence to wander through your open house firing gas rockets in every room. (Unless you can blame it on the Stilton cheese.)
It's Also Not a Good Idea To:
...To set up your open house food table on the lawn...without checking the timer on the sprinklers. (Unless you are planning on serving your famous flaming Crème Brulee, in which case it may be a good idea.)
...To set up the luncheon table near the compost pile in the garden out back. (Unless your food already tastes like s__t.)
...To whisper with compassion that the sellers are "splitting up"...to the unsuspecting mother-in-law. (Especially if she is the crazy lady from next door)
...To use the seller's vodka laced ice cubes in the punch. (Oh wait; maybe that's a good idea!)
...To ignore the boisterous voices and sounds of clinking ice cubes and "GO, BILLY" coming from the bar in the basement while you're upstairs schmoozing. (Especially if it is in the house where the ice cubes are laced with vodka...and there's a tree house out back.)
...To set the cat box (with the cat in it) outside on the patio table...above where the dog hangs out. (Unless you don't mind the complete mayhem when the frothing dog jumps on the table, toppling the cat box, wherein the cage breaks open releasing the screaming cat, after which the hapless cat scampers up the tree and jumps onto the new canvas awning... and ends the SRO performance by puking a giant hairball.)
...To try to ignore the answering machine while the endless "I hate you, bitch," message is being recorded for all to enjoy. (Unless ripping the plug from the wall is something you cannot do nonchalantly while disposing of the dead parakeet and trying to wrangle a puking cat.)
...To assume the sound of the shower is just someone testing the water pressure. (Unless you got the homeless guy pre-approved before he wandered in.)
...To forget to insist that the seller remove the urine samples from the refrigerator. (Unless you want revenge on Billy and the other drunks down in the basement...or on the crazy lady next door who is now peering in the window.)
And It's REALLY Not a Good Idea To:
... To allow the seller to put ol' Sparky, the excitable German Shepherd, in the RV in the sloping driveway with the keys inside. (Unless Sparky is planning on taking the dead parakeet, Billy, crazy lady, puking cat, the sex fiends, and the homeless guy with him on his unexpected tour of Highland Park. Go, Sparky!)
...To use the lovely can from the shelf as a door stop for your open house.(Unless you are POSITIVE the dog is riding shotgun with his buddy, Sparky...and is NOT in the lovely can.)
... To set off the fire alarm by burning the quiches, then drag out a chair, grab the broom, swipe at the alarm overhead, tumble moon-over-Miami off the chair onto the couch with your skirt up around your waist like an inner tube, and then meet the prospective (and shocked) buyer with a cheeky, x-rated "Butt Greet." (Unless...unless...oh, forget it - there is no "unless." I can tell you from experience that it sucks!)

First posted on Agent Genius 05.08.2009