Saturday, August 2, 2008


my car was broken into last month.

did i tell you?

no, of course not. i haven't written shit in weeks.

what a fucking slacker i am.


well, anyhow, it was.

some tools broke in, stole my damn $400 coach purse--a birthday present from my brother joe--and made a mess of my car. let's see, i am now also sans laptop, driver's license (had to get a new one, which was fine since i looked like vomit in the other one), credit cards (which they took the liberty of running up . . . nice, because frankly, i just had waaaaaaaaaaaaay too much money and i'm relieved they lightened that heavy burden), and a front passenger window (no, that's not true, i replaced it the day it happened to the tune of almost $300).

(and yes, incidentally, I KNOW NOW NOT TO LEAVE THINGS IN MY CAR. one to grow on.)

fuckin' ay. i mean, it's just two years old and already it's been crashed (a moving truck slammed into me on the driver's side after only two months) and broken into . . . jeeezuz!

who'd want to break into my car anyway? fine, it's a relatively new car, but it's a honda accord sedan . . . a family car, if you will . . . 4-doors . . . not in any way flashy . . .

on the sunny side (is there one?), i usually leave to go to school at some ungodly hour and it just so happened i slept in that morning or else i might have caught those assholes in the act and would have had to go all fucking ninja on their asses and probably been shanked by one of them.



two days later, i get pulled over by the lapd, who want to know why my car registration is lapsed. i tell them that my car was broken into and that the pieces of shit who did it rather took a liking to my registration tag (in addition to everything else) and kindly removed it from my license plate.

then they ask me for my driver's license. i don't have it, OBVIOUSLY (to me, but not to them) . . . so i give them my number.

they go back to their little cop car, run my plate and dl number and then come back to me . . .

"miss, your registration checks out ok, but your license is expired," they say.

"oh (fuck)," i reply.

"we have two options here. we can either let you go and send you straight to the nearest dmv to renew your license or we can issue you a $500 ticket for driving on an expired license, impound your car, and take you to county jail. what do you think?" they say.

hmm, let me think this over for a minute, officers.

would i like cake?

or would i like death?

let's see, tough choice: cake or DEATH?

well, shit, I'LL TAKE CAKE!!!

fucking twats.

(i love eddie izzard. i especially love him in drag . . .)

the cops let me go, but not without telling me how gracious they were being by doing so.

gracious, eh?

yeah . . . they were gracious to me.

they were ALSO very gracious to the scuzzbuckets who stole my stuff.

let me explain: you see, when the other cops came to my apartment building the morning i found my car broken into, i had already spoken to my bank who told me when and where the thieves had spent my money. so, when the cops arrived, i said, hey i know where these guys went and at what time and why don't y'all go check out the closed circuit video and see if maybe you can actually catch them.

after a long pause and a hearty chuckle from the cops, i got, "miss, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

oh yeah, sorry, i know that krispy kremes don't taste as good cold as they do hot . . . (zing! yeah, i'm a bitch. sue me.)

or i suppose you could just throw people like me into jail because we're easy to catch and come willingly.

1 comment:

The Wandering Gentile said...

1 Fender Stratocaster clone.-$100

1 Volkswagen Factory Cassette Deck- worthless, and I hope the puke who stole it got shanked when it ate a New Kids on the Block tape. (After he destroyed the dashboard in my Scirocco.)

My mobile home outside Savannah was virtue of knowing approximately which items were taken, I have a good idea of the culprit(s).

My identity was misappropriated in February. I know who did that, too.

Assaults, road rage, I have been on on the receiving end of all of them.

Total persons held accountable by law- Zilch.

And yet, as a commercial driver, they sit on their lazy asses in Banning, and I am compelled to stop, pay tribute, and show whatever papers they see fit to ask for-and if I don't, I get fined.

For the heinous act of trying to earn a living, I get a cop como un supositorio malpuesto, and people who have ripped me off walk off scot free.

There is something very wrong with this picture...

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