So We Got Robbed And This Is The Post Where I Talk About That

For years I’ve said – and believed –t hat the only consistency in my life is inconsistency.  My mantra has proved itself correct once again.

I spent a good part of yesterday evening cleaning glass out of our kitchen sink.

It came from a broken window, which is how people got in.


The FIRST time they broke in they were able to jimmy the window open so there wasn’t really a mess.

Let me reiterate – we got robbed three weeks ago. Nearly three weeks exactly; the first incident was March 26.  I noted (with mild amusement) that my last blog post was made on March 26, about how things were going well but it was a bit hectic.

They took some electronics, jewelry, weapons; little stuff.  They left the window open, didn’t hurt the kitties, there wasn’t really that much of a mess (except a bunch of things hastily pulled open / looked through).  Someone jimmied the kitchen window open, let their partner in through the back door, they were fairly…uh, polite? Respectful?  I only use those words because they didn’t break or mess up things too badly.  It still sucked, but it was kind of easier to cope with because there was less of a mess.  I spent the entire night cleaning, crying a little here and there, and generally feeling disappointed in humanity.

We fixed the window.  We got things set up with the police, our insurance, a security system inspection (originally scheduled for 4/29).  All buzz words that people ask – checkpoints.  “Did you call the cops? Did you call your insurance? What about an alarm?”  Yes.  We got all that taken care of.  I didn’t sleep for two nights but the trauma kind of… was easier to push down and start building a wall around.  We talked about what we should do to make our home more secure and started discussing what we need to do to move.  We told very few people about it – close friends and family, people that we would normally trust to watch our house, that kind of thing, but we kept it quiet.  You don’t really talk about that kind of stuff because of paranoia and also it’s really rather exhaustive.  I stopped checking in on social media, and kind of withdrew overall.  There were a few days of just sitting, trying to reorganize.  The stress did a number on both of us both physically and mentally, but we began to recover and I even started to feel like I had some energy to do anything besides lie on the couch and read.

Yesterday, the house got broken into AGAIN.  Jason came home from work around 330 and found the mess.

The mess.

First, all kitties are safe and accounted for.

Second, aside from a cloth carry-bag from a local hotel and some change, they didn’t take anything, except our remaining peace of mind.

They busted the window over the kitchen sink.  Glass and dishes were everywhere.

Bedroom: all the drawers dumped out, jewelry box again dumped out, closets ransacked, stuff under the bed pulled out.  They stepped on the laundry, messed up the furniture/bedding.   This means that – yet again – all the items that they touched needed to be re-washed, including the bedding. There is no worse feeling than knowing some random person is in your house, TOUCHING WHERE YOU SLEEP.

Bathroom: Two tiles that haven’t been sealed onto the bathtub frame had been taped on. They pulled those off, apparently looking for a hidden compartment underneath.  The cats were hiding in there/under the bed, thankfully.

Office: pulled some stuff off the shelves, overturned things under the desk, pulled the drawers out of the storage armoire and pulled more stuff out from inside of it.  Toolboxes we’d nearly forgotten about were dumped out.

Living/dining room: couch cushions flipped, some stuff pulled off the bookshelves. Books on the floor (thankfully not a lot, and MORE thankfully all the library books I borrowed seem to be all accounted for).  The memory box that I made with our wedding stuff was dumped out all over the couch. They ripped an envelope that held my veil.  I thought I would be prepared, but after seeing A) my wedding stuff everywhere, the sugar bowls opened up and rifled through, and a recipe box on the floor, the complete senselessness of it all then resulted in hysterics.

I don’t get hysterical. I don’t have big weeping fits or …scenes.

This time I went outside and sobbed on the porch.  Just a mess.  I tried to take some photos to document but can only post a couple because looking at the rest sets off the terrible thoughts in my head. Jason was able to clean up a little bit, but I was shaking pretty badly so most of the photos came out blurry.  I started shaking when Jason called me to give me the news, and continued on throughout the evening.  I’m still shaking and can’t get warm and it’s 70 degrees.

I’d apologize for Brak’s hair being all over the couch but I just hand-vacuumed it two days ago so I don’t care.  I’d apologize for the mess but …yeah. Whatever.  I want to apologize for not having more stuff but IT GOT STOLEN ALREADY BEFORE WE GOT RANSACKED.

Uh, so here’s what I saw when I walked in. Then I walked back outside and sat on the porch for a long while.


Hey check it out here’s all my memory box stuff from the wedding dumped out and kind of ripped up. That’s cool.


My French press appears to be alright.  Sort of pictured, some broken glass. Not totally pictured, how the sink is filled with broken glass. That’s a big painting that we were using to block the open window to keep the cats in while we cleaned up.  Also the [expletives] left the back door open so thank whatever you want to thank that they didn’t get out.


That’s cool. Just dump that stuff everywhere. I didn’t mind having my laundry hanging up. Or my sheets and towels folded.

I am 900% sure this is not how I left it.

Brak & Loki, accounted for and cute. Still freaked out. In the background you can sort of see how stuff was piled up in the office. 6

Pris was not having any of it.  She stayed passed out for several hours.  She is accounted for, and equally cute.7

I’m not okay.  When stressful things happen to me, my way of coping is to look at each little fact and then find whatever ‘bright side’ can be found within each bit of logic.  It keeps me sane.

That isn’t working here.  I can’t pull any logic from any of it.  It was senseless, reckless, disrespectful, insane.  I can kind of imagine what it feels like to be raped, because I have no sense of safety or peace of mind.  I’m jumpy and unable to relax, plus I don’t want to go home, because the house just feels like a weird hotel.  None of my stuff feels like my stuff.  I feel very homeless; like the only thing I have is our little family, my purse, my Kindle, my computer and my car.

Our plans to move have been bumped up to ‘as soon as possible’.  Obviously we can’t just give a 30 day notice, and obviously we need to save for a down payment.  I am considering starting one of those crowd-funded/kickstarter projects to help us get going but right now though I can’t wrap my head around any of this.  I can’t really process more than one step in advance of what I need to do right this minute.   Like…. okay, next step… shower, set your alarm for work. You have to be in the office at 830AM.  (I’m there now, FYI.)   Okay, that’s good. How about cleaning up the glass on the kitchen counter. Not the floor, don’t think about vacuuming yet.  Okay, go pick up the laundry and just put it all in the hampers. Deal with it later. Just get it off the floor.

Today is hard though.  I’m very exhausted and can’t do anything much except stare out the window of my office, where I am now.  There is a bunch of work-related paperwork to tackle so my next step is to start on the stuff in Inbox 1.

Hopefully the insurance can help us with a little more money so we can add extra bars to the windows, fix the busted window, fix the fence, and replace a couple stolen items.  Our security system install got bumped up to high priority with the company and I think they’ll be able to do it today.

The mess was cleaned up, a very long shower was had, but I still feel broken inside.

This is very draining to talk about which is why I am making kind of a long post in hopes to not talk too much about it further.  I’m not looking for sympathy but this is too much to just hold in.  I am not okay right now though.  That is all.


Hunger Games: Parking Lot Version

You’ve probably been to a store recently, or some place that involves a parking lot. Have you seen a parking lot before? The kind with lines? Of course you have. Here’s a photo to help jog your memory.

This evening required a quick trip over to the local Best Buy, which (crazily enough) has a very similar parking lot to the one in the photo above. The photo below is basically what it looked like when I got there. Cars were lined up all neatly, in even little efficient rows with everyone parked evenly next to each other.

And then, there was this.

It’s a nice car.

It was in one of the first spots closest to the store.

They did SO WELL at parking that I think everyone needs to know; click it!

See the tail edge of that white line in the shot on the left? Yes, that person parked juuuuust perfectly enough in between the two spots, perfectly over the line, perfectly obnoxiously. I know – and have seen – people who will spit on their driver’s side window AND door handle for that sort of thing. It wasn’t me, because spitting is gross, but I’ve seen it done.

I have a question for you, Mercedes Benz of Anaheim
: how much extra did your customer pay for their DOUBLE PARKING PERMIT?? HMMM?!?! BECAUSE THEY’RE DOUBLE PARKED. LIKE A JERK. Maybe you could advise your future customers (or returning customers, or everyone, really) to not do that. They wanted to advertise how great you were with that nice license plate cover, so I thought you should know.

At the time of taking that photo I was furious enough to want to stand and wait for the owner of the vehicle, just to ask them WHY they felt the need to park that way. Do you see the cars in the background? Do you see how THEY are parked? I took a deep breath and left, but still. Look, I get that people all want to be individuals and follow their dream and be self-righteous jerks*unique snowflakes, but come on now. I actually drove away, fuming, and then came back to take the photo. That’s because part of me actually wanted to key my question (Y U NO PARK PROPERLY) into their shiny new paint job, but then logic dictates that “vandalism” isn’t generally accepted in society, so I opted to do something a little more fun… like tell the internet.

Please, people. Spread the word. Car dealerships, let your customers know: DON’T DOUBLE PARK. If you double park, you make people angry, and angry people aren’t always rational. Law enforcement officers: yes, I am angry, but because I do not want to go to jail (ever), one of my personal rules is to not do anything like bash in a window or key a car or slash a tire. For the record, yes, I will angrily post online but that’s as far as it goes. Other angry irrational people (who are not me) might do something worse.

People parking in places they shouldn’t are on a special list of mine. It makes me very upset, and you know why? Because if I or any of my friends tried to pull that, we would get towed. At the very least, we’d get a ticket. It’s not because of the kinds of cars we drive, because I have friends that own Maseratis, Jaguars, Cadillacs, BMWs, Benz, etc. It’s because my friends don’t have the sense of entitlement that overwhelms their sense of logic.

You know when you go to a business and certain spots say “Reserved” or “Patient Parking” or “Staff Only” or “Commercial Loading”? Well, for the general public, those parking spots are not where you are supposed to park. You park there if you work there, if you are a patient there, if you’re Employee of the Freaking Month at a mortgage company and that’s the spot you won because you closed more loans than anyone for the month of whatever. You don’t park there because you don’t feel like looking for another spot.

Sometimes the parking indicators are on the ground. At my office, there are eight metal signs that stick up about four feet out of the ground (right about eye level when you’re seated in a vehicle that pulls in to a space). These signs say in big bold letters: STAFF PARKING. We all have our own parking spots. What makes me want to smash their windshield is when I go away to lunch for 30 minutes, come back, and despite ALLLL the other spots open in nearby rows (no seriously like twenty spots), someone who is NOT STAFF has parked in my spot. I can’t explain how furious it makes me, but there is very little that gets me very mad very quickly quite the way that stuff does.

Why? Why do you do this? When I park somewhere that I’ve never been (for example, last week to Wine Steals at Liberty Station, whose parking situation is VERY minimal during busy times, check out Google Maps), please believe the first thing on my ‘leaving the car’ checklist is make sure that it’s okay to park wherever. Is there a sign at the entrance to the lot? Are the spaces numbered but there’s no box to pay? Do some of the spots have cement bumpers and some don’t? Is there a sign ANYWHERE in the lot that designates times that it’s not okay to park there? Why is it that not everyone cares about this sort of thing? It doesn’t matter if you can afford to get your car out of impound, or afford to just say “oh well” and buy a new one. It just makes you a jerkface if you don’t do this.

PEOPLE. PLEASE. PAY. ATTENTION. It takes no extra time and you won’t accidentally make someone angry because of your actions. I don’t care how much you paid for your car, I don’t care if you’re driving a limo or a HOVERCRAFT. If you don’t park properly and it’s not an emergency, I hate you. [For the record: my trip into Best Buy took about half an hour. That car was there upon my arrival and also upon my departure, so if there was an emergency it probably involved a lengthy discussion about if they should get the 60″ or the 72″ LCD panel TV for their outdoor kitchen because it might interfere with the view of the fountain and not quite tie the area together. In other words, there was no emergency.]


*I keep using the word jerk/jerks because every time I search for another descriptive phrase it’s got a lot of um, curse-insertion. Colorful language, you might say.

Of Hurricanes and Graphite

My social networks are a huge conglomeration of everyone I’ve ever met, and some I haven’t. Primarily it’s a West Coast feed, as most East Coast people I – for some unknown reason – have kept on to pseudo relate with. Excluding a select handful, any East Coast peeps still in my periphery are there for entertainment value or to remind me of how far I’ve come. The majority of their feeds are hidden from my daily view not just because of terrible grammar but because of their extreme lack of giving a fuck.


I don’t care about your new purse. I don’t care about your drama. I do care about why you’re still a waitress (not a manager) at the same diner you worked at 15 years ago, and why you’re going on 30 with your priorities being more “Which club should I go to next and what bus will still run after 11pm” instead of “Will I ever get a driver’s license” or “Will I ever move out of my mom’s house”.

Their feeds are hidden because of stuff like this, copied verbatim (edited for names/addresses):


“It cud always b worst.”

“I’m face book how lol comment me back”

“Lol!!! A drunk aint shit”

“Ok cuzzo…squad up….lol…”

“Is blessed…bout to start my Sunday Din din…sauteed in C.Of.M. bone/skinless chkn breast..mac and beans…stuffing and yams..yummy:)!!”


“Hey its me XXXXX’s niece i had to log on for him but i wanted to put the word out on his profile for everone he said if anyones waiting or trying to get in touch with him can write him at THIS ADDRESS XXXXX XXXXX ###### Depart of corrections Green Rock Correctional Center [edited address]”

“Yoo….to all my yurp squad n yace squad members we will be performing at the XXXX XXX in the city in july….hit me up or XXXX n let us know if u tryna perform…..”

“Now its time to take care of me!! Not everyone else excpt my kids.. So every one else can kick rocks and fuck off!!!”

“just lettn it be known to certain ppl… im actn up today!!! Past week…lol”

“Its not what we do that defines us, but how we rise above every situtation tht may be thrown are way!!!!!”

“dont blame me for what u cant acheive im jus me and do me ill slap a b*****””

“I’m 30… N still sh*tin on u! I am me… Lol somethin u’ll never b so hate on haters! ;D” (Seriously, that is the title of one of her photo albums. All bathroom mirror angle shots.)



“washing clothes today and spending time w/ donna i enjoy coming up here its relaxing….cant wait to go to grams tonight and spend time w/ my family miss u dad and sissy hope u guys are doing well…”

“on our way to gram and paps for dinner our favorite day of the week sure wish u were there mama. on our way to stop and see u at the cemetary love u our angel”




Anyway. The short version is that A) Facebook is turning into Myspace and B) reading all that hurt my brain. If you’re updating your status via phone, just take a minute to give a shit, that’s all. It’s not hard.

Before that rant, the point I wanted to say is that all my East Coast peeps are up in arms about the hurricane a-comin’ and I’m having a really hard time even considering telling people (individually) to stay safe, because it’s 90 degrees in my house and I’ve been sick for like, a month.

Growing up, storms – mild and bad – were a part of life. You batten down the hatches, you put things away, you have your flashlights in working order, and you sit on the porch to watch the storm roll in. When it’s rolled close enough thankyouverymuch, you head inside. If it’s really bad, you head down to the fruit cellar. You wait, you read, you go to bed when the last hint of daylight goes away. You get through it. Trees fall, basements flood, roofs get torn off. Glass breaks. It’s scary – for real – but it stops eventually. There’s something to be said for the smell of rain, before and after a storm.

Not saying that people shouldn’t prepare, or be cautious, or worried. They should do and be all of those things. But I don’t have the mental energy right now to do what so many others are doing and start the whole “OMG BE SAFE BE CAREFUL” on everyone’s Facebook or Twitter or where have you. I’m just drained. The media is playing up all the fear. So if everyone could just take a step back and realize that they don’t need to start a riot, that would be nice.

Consider this your mass “Hope you guys get through it alright and there is little to no damage. Best of luck.” post.

Speaking of getting through it, my illness relapsed today, which was lame. That whole no sugar or alcohol thing is tougher than I thought, because a beer sounds AWESOME right now.

Actually, Oreos with a glass of cold milk sounds even MORE awesome, so there’s that.

Then I found Oreo Cupcakes With Built In Milk Cups and almost died.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

My discovery for the week is as follows: that phrase about leading a horse to water is around for a reason.

Today’s goals include: paying some bills, going to the tax assessor’s office, going to the zoo, and working on a sketch/painting. Nothing exciting, but it *is* nice out, so I’m going to take advantage of that.

On the art note – I’m so inspired by Craola’s stuff but am not sure how those whole underpainting or glazing or washing techniques are done. He’s got a feel to his work that I really want to recreate – not that I want to rip him off verbatim by any means, but I want to take the inspiration his work gave me and incorporate it into my own things. If anybody has links to good resources, I’d appreciate it.

This Makes Me Sad

As I read it, I thought of all the times I’ve heard coworkers talk WAAAAAAAAAAY too much about their personal lives, who they’re dating, what they’re doing with those people they’re dating, the “OMG lemme tell you what happened this weekend” etc. All the stuff I’ve heard in breakrooms, smoke breaks, parking lots. The drama, the craziness.

I’ve thought of all the times I’ve gone to a Starbucks – or any fast food / coffee house / retail shop – and heard stuff that the employees are discussing. When my goal is just to get my drink, my cup of ice cream, my new set of pants, my #3 with no cheese, I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR WEEKEND DRAMA or that bullshit customer you just had to deal with on the phone or your friend’s kids daycare issues. Clearly I am not the only one in line, and am willing to bet that the others in line also don’t care.

This isn’t me touting my perfection, either. Many – sometimes too many – are the times where I’ve crossed the line and shared stuff with other employees that they didn’t need to know, or became Bar Buddies with them, and you all know that when you’re at the bar you’re not just sitting quietly, enjoying your beverage. Lots of my coworkers (past and present) are definitely in the “friend range”, and that’s just how it is for me. The majority of us know that we are still supposed to keep it professional, and any time there’s drama, you figure it out behind emails and closed doors. You are still an employee of whatever company you work for, so you still put that face on.

But this is the first time I’ve heard of a “manager” just pulling something like this out in public in front of everyone. I can’t even imagine how awful that guy feels. Yes, maybe he was one of those people who was always a little too loud when it came to personal conversations, or maybe he was always on his phone, or whatever, but I can’t say that for sure because I wasn’t there. You probably weren’t there either, so all we have to go on is the fact that this “manager” humiliated him in front of customers and THEN went on to talk about him (in front of customers) when he was off the floor.

And that’s crap.

What is this “eviction” that you speak of?

It’s 730 in the morning. In spite of several things, I am awake and blogging, having already moved my car and made a nice cup of tea.  

The interesting thing is that I was hoping to get up early to accomplish some things, but opted out of those things in favor of staying in my nice warm bed, attempting to minimize the hurt.  The alarm was originally set for 745, and due to back pain (plus yesterday’s trip to the gym), staying in bed would have been very nice.  However, my thoughtful neighbor has made the choice for me.  Thanks buddy!

Listen, bro.

I call you bro now, not in affection, but in reference to the many dialogues between you and our downstairs neighbors.  Perhaps none of you realize that my bedroom window is right here, and opted to shout your conversations from your respective doorsteps instead of just chatting in each others’ living rooms.  It doesn’t help that these conversations were going on between people on different levels. 

Anyway.  We did indeed hear you loudly verbalizing this morning at the crisp hour of 630 to an unknown party.  I like to pretend you weren’t actually speaking to a real person; it makes things much more festive.  Saying things like you don’t give a shit about being loud because you’re out on the corner, led me to believe you truly had no concern for the welfare and rest of your neighbors in close proximity.   Items you’d previously yelled, such as, “I used to live here! Can I stand out on my porch and yell now? Come arrest me!!” helped me in that decision.

I have one thing to say to this, broIt’s no one’s fault but your own.  I know you’re trying to promote world peace through frisbee, and I know you think you’re Jesus Christ reincarnated, but all the karaoke and the screaming and the general public disturbance….. well……   what did you think would happen?  Come on now.  Take it like a man.

On a lighter note, wherever your travels may take you, you may find yourself wondering how you can get evicted again.  Here are a few reasons you may not have thought of, courtesy of I’m only going to post the numbered portions, it’s actually a very entertaining article that I recommend for all readers.  You even learn how to get free movers!  Check out these seven easy tips:

1. Don’t pay the rent! This is a classic method […]
2. Play your music too loud at night! Okay, whether it’s your JVC 1200 […]
3. Start throwing your garbage out the window! Okay, this works great, […]
4. Start a fake drug lab! Okay, landlords hate the thought […]
5. Open up a punk rock club! This is easy […]
6. Tear up your floor and start a garden! Sounds complicated, but  […]
7. Buy a goat, a sheep, a pig, and two roosters! […]

Other classy methods are listed at the San Francisco Foghorn; these include rain dancing and opening up a daycare/zoo in the form of Big Brothers/Sisters and the Walk-a-Pet program.

Something else (reminscent of Carrie) is listed over at Gothamist.  That one is kind of foul, but could make for some entertaining results.

I digress.

The list could go on (and please, readers, feel free to comment with your own suggestions), but the time is drawing near where I must begin to get ready for work.  Not to mention today’s goal involved cleaning out my car (YES REALLY), and possibly taking a quick boardwalk bike ride.  Work has had an interesting tension factor lately, so the ocean breeze helps to clear my head and calm me down.

Do I feel bad that he is getting evicted?  That’s a very mixed answer.  If he doesn’t have a backup plan and has to live out of his car, yes, I have a bit of a bleeding heart for things like that.  I have lived in my car before.  It’s not fun.  It downright sucks.  However my car is larger than his, so it sucked a little less – not to mention that he did bring this on himself.  I’m hoping the new tenants will be more peaceful, and I’m hoping he learns from this experience.  If he doesn’t have a backup plan… well…. San Diego isn’t the worst place to be homeless in.  Besides, he’s supposed to be an A-Number-One Sales Guy, so I’m sure he can figure out something.

A few last words, Frisbee Boy… I only have to be up early on Fridays, so feel free to keep the ramblings to a minimum.  Also, D’fabulous will be staying with me next weekend, so you may want to save some truly wacky hijinks until then.  But if you wake us up from our margarita slumber, it’s war.

Happy Apartment-hunting!