ltgmars | Warning: Violent Language Ahead (Reply)

Please allow me to extend my sincerest congratulations to the wank who fucking stole my purse last night.

Yes, yes, the perfect thing to find after a major 8.5-hour catering shift, which you attended sick and sore to begin with (I even took a nap before I left, trying to get all the kinks out), is a nice little vacant spot in the back room where your purse used to be.

My coworkers (absolutely wonderful people, they are) and I searched all over the place (yeah, vague generalization, but we did look in every possible location), but we couldn't find it, so I used a friend's cell to call Diki, who was evidently supposed to call our parents, who were evidently parked right outside South Dining Hall, waiting for me to finish work. After I explained what happened as best I could, my parents and I headed off to Campus Security to report the missing purse. As it turns out, other people had called in about missing items from SDH, so obviously some asshole saw the function as an opportunity to not only stow away with my purse, but also the belongings of others.

The police officer (that's it, I'm going to be a cop when I grow up) said that they'd search through trash cans and dumpsters to find the missing property, since it's common for thieves to just take whatever items they want and throw the rest away. The thing from my purse that's most likely to be stolen is my mom's cell phone (they're calling Verizon to deactivate that number as we speak), my bank ID card (my dad's going to get the account switched as soon as he possibly can), my driver's license (we're going to contact the BMV about it and get a new one), the Marathon gas station credit card (we'll contact Marathon about it, too), and my library card (we'll probably just get another one). What I'm really worried about are the things I can't replace emotionally, even if I can replace them physically. You know, my sophomore school ID with a crappy picture plastered on the front, that cute little Wolfwood keychain Nick got me for my birthday (how many people have I showed that keychain off to? Would it really be the same if I just got a new one to replace it?), the car key my dad proudly handed over to me when I'd gotten my driver's license, years' worth of movie ticket stubs for every single movie I've ever gone out and seen with my friends, that little stack of receipts I keep just to prove to myself that I'm spending my own money to buy stuff I want, little gadgets and gizmos from my relatives when we visited Indonesia, the worn ticket from Midwinter, those cute little notes and "cartas" from my friends at school... if they find any of my stuff in the trash cans or dumpsters, those are probably going to be the items found, but if I get to get those back, I'll be the happiest person alive. You know the old adage - one man's trash is another man's treasure. It surprised me when I realized that the dumbest, most useless scraps turned out to be the most precious things in the world to me.

I'd give a hell of a lot to find the shithead who stole my stuff and, you know, knock his punk-ass down.

Retrospectively (shit, as if "retrospectively" could possibly work here... I just found out about my missing purse two hours ago; got back 30 minutes ago (worked from 4:30-1:00)), I'm so lucky that I didn't drive myself to work yesterday. I wouldn't have had a way home (unless I wanted to break into and hotwire my own car).

Yeah, so that was the past ten hours or so. How has your weekend been?