I wasn’t going to do this, but this story has become too crazy to keep to myself anymore. Meet Yvonne Amagliana, or as some of you may have known her, Von Collette.
Maybe you recognize her, maybe you don’t. She’s the unhinged looneytoon who used to COMMENT AGGRESSIVELY IN ALL CAPS and weird poorly written sentagraphs all over TB blog posts on Facebook, professing her love for Turtleboy. Now listen guys, if you love our blogs, thanks. I love you, too. If not, that’s also cool. I enjoy your hate and vitriol. But if you feel the need to MAKE TURTLEBOY YOUR LIFE IN ALL CAPS, you’re fucking crazy. There’s no way around that. It’s not normal, well adjusted behavior, and for your own benefit I highly suggest you get a hobby. Even as, as someone who blogs for Turtleboy, have hobbies – but we’ll get to me later.
Anyway….apparently at some point Yvonne had a falling out with another Turtlerider, which has exactly nothing to do with me, or Uncle Turtleboy, or anyone, for that matter. It did, apparently, have something to do with Yvonne’s unconventional practices as a realtor, which for some reason include threatening other agents with ALL CAPS riddled, barely intelligible Facebook messages.
When confronted about her batshit crazy behavior, Von did what any sane, rational induvidual would do, and doubled down on the crazy:
Despite being met with a pretty reasonable response from her client.
And what they’re discussing there, with another realtor named “Maria”? Yup, Von was a total unprofessional douche to a seller’s agent, too.
Thus costing her client the house. I can’t possibly understand why, though, because don’t all good negotiations involve the words “slum town”? So, I suppose the static between Yvonne and her former client and fellow Turtlerider makes sense. And the static between her, Ryan Winslow, and Maria Acuna….well it doesn’t really make that much sense, but they were forced to deal with this broad in some capacity. I guess Von enjoys hitting the sauce pretty hard, too, and when confronted about it and the effects it was having on presumably everything, shit really hit the fan.
But how do Uncle Turtleboy and I fall in to all this, besides this bitch’s weird Turtle obsession?
Well, we really shouldn’t. But one night all the way back in late January, Uncle Turtleboy started getting drunken, angry and threatening phone calls from Von on her personal cell phone. No, he never gave her his number, and no, it wasn’t invited. Apparently she was upset with both he and I, because she had attended the court date we had attended with Rian Waters, on behalf of the blog and Samantha Cardin, the domestic violence victim he was frivolously and vindictively suing. Apparently, Von felt we did not give her the amount of attention she felt she deserved. Let me reiterate here:
I’m not a celebrity. I’m just a normal person, and I drove nearly three hours from home after working my day job in the morning, to support the blog I write for and the victim I was assisting. I wasn’t there for a meet and greet, and we don’t owe anyone anything. I love interacting with people – I tend to say I don’t have fans, I have friends. But when I’m three hours away from home on a week day in a court house in Springfield of all places, with a family at home, I can’t linger. That’s common fucking sense. Why it suddenly turned in to a huge issue, I don’t know, but I imagine it might be the Pino this chick is slamming back that causes a loop of circus music and rage to continually play in her head. I don’t fucking know.
Oh, and she even brought Uncle Turtleboy a gift. Check it out!
Totally normal thing for a middle aged woman to do. Nothing to see here. But her feelings on her reception, in her own words:
And apparently, she sent in a blog, which I wasn’t even aware of until after this entire debacle.
I read it afterwards, and it was objectively terrible. Really, really bad. Which happens, normal people take the L and move on. But Von isn’t normal, intelligent or sane. She’s a roller coaster of insanity that I never, ever voluntarily bought tickets for, and wanted off of immediately. Instead I got message after crazy message,
Including these absolutely bananas voice messages:
She seems really nice. Real loss that we didn’t put her on the team. I sent a wellness check over to her house that night (she has a kid who is unfortunately subjected to this shit), and moved the fuck on.
So why am I talking about it now? Because she hasn’t moved on. She’s emailed Uncle Turtleboy to try to get on the team doing sales.
She’s emailed Uncle Turtleboy accusing him of emailing her, because she is such an abject crazy moron that she doesn’t understand what “spam mail” is.
She’s messaged me on my personal Facebook page, threatening to out my identity and bringing up my kids.
Like that’s even a threat. Listen, you numb cunt – I outed my damn self. I’m a person, a regular person. My name is Kate. No, I’m not a feminine alter ego of Aidan Kearney’s, and no, I’m not fucking afraid of you, or anyone else. Here I am, come and fucking get me. If you’re a nosey little fuck and want to follow me on Facebook, have at it.
I’m boring, and I’m underwhelming, and my anonymity was never a source of some sort of power online – it’s because who I am doesn’t matter. Only what I write, as little or as much as it may matter to each and every one of you people who keep coming back to read it. But my identity sure as fuck isn’t going to become some sort of leverage for a crazy old hag who feels the sting of rejection. I beat you to the punch, cunt. Enjoy.
Oh, and her latest and greatest bag of tricks is pulling a page out of the Rian Waters/Michael Gaffney playbook, and attempting to take out criminal harassment charges on us, for all the contacting her we HAVEN’T been doing. So, congratulations, Yvonne Collette Amagliana, you’ve found yourself in some superb company there. A woman beating, dog killing pubestacio and a narcissistic, philandering failed politician. Fine crew.
I said I’d never write about this cunt, but she pushed it too far. I hope you’re happy now, lady. You should’ve just moved the fuck on, because the rest of us sure did.