35 mm Minolta for sale

I have in my possesion a sexy Minolta x-370 35 millimeter camera for sale. It was my dads, and he gave it to me before moving. He is a professional videographer so the camera has been treated with the utmost care.
Included in the one time only combo pack:

Minolta X-370s body
vivitar mc teleconverter 2x-5
1 minolta 50mm 1:1.7
1 minolta 50mm 1:2
minolta auto X200 flash
minolta auto winder

also a shutter slave will be included.
and for an astoundingly cheap negotiable $250 (electronics/kitchen wares of equal or approximate value will be considered for trade)

yeah, more regular food stuff later

the restaurant is a living thing and its my belief that the kitchen is the heart of it, (no offence to FOH) When everybody is just and a perfect groove and shit is hitting the pass dead on time and dishes are tasting good, and everybody is content and people start anticipating orders and moving in perfct rhythm: life is good. I live for that man, its the equivalent of amys bread smell, where it is something that is problematic to describe but thick enough to cut with a knife.on the flip side when things arent so smooth, and i get weeded or somebody fucks some timing up or gets a refire there is the same amount of energy and passion but i'm pissed. Its when im pissed and weeded that i feel i start to get good, i love that pressure. even during prep and shit. My brunoise gets really fucking tiny and perfect and my chiffonade gets filiment thin and i start thinking about breaking down that whole pig in the walk in noone wants to fuck with. i love pushing myself during those moments which is odd because im a lazy fat bastard in affairs unrelated to food. like you guy were saying it is about how you recover. I recover sitting on the trash can at the bus stop, calming down, trying to stop doing math in my head for tommorow, trying to shut down. I unbutton a few buttons and try and rub off the thick layer of gritty grease and sweat on my forehead and clean the supertiny spray of oil off my glasses and acess wounds and decide whether or not they need futher medical attention. and i sit there in the dark and clear everything out. no matter how shitty or great service went, im saying to myself "Im going to be Black Escoffier! im going to rule my kitchen with an iron whisk and plate monkeys and runners will cower before my mighty clogs! grillmen will tremble at the sight of my meez, agast at the amount of 3 michelin star plates I and my titan like crew will produce every night."Yeah, i wanna be really really good. i want to be at the unatainable level of greatness. i want those fuckers to have to add an extra star to the scale because of my restaurant.i have high hopes and i sit at the bus-stop hellbent on achieving them. however long it takes.wish me luck guys, tommorow im gonna try and get this local bakery to let me apprentice there. I'm used to saying "let me peel your shallots" i guess now ill say, "let me fix your malfuncting Hobbart and feed cultures."whatver you guys were cooking sounded DEE-HEE-HEE-Licious(greatest opening track to date)

i love the smell of capitalism in the late afternoon. well, capitalism and brownies. more brownies than capitalism. Capitalism tends to give me heart-burn which my doc says i should be trying to stray away from. ironically, brownies-- he hasnt mentioned despite the fact that in 300 lbs with elated stress levels and a pentient for bloody steet fights. yeah. Brownies.