Monday, August 22, 2011

The One Where Someone Stole My Purse

Yesterday I tweeted “You know how people have that one friend that lets them say ‘I know someone that happened to’? Why do I get the feeling I’m the friend…” Only to follow up an hour later with: “Well, my roommate and I just successfully dislodged my hedgehog, who managed to get himself stuck between the sink and the wall in the bathroom.”

I think I am that friend.

A few days before New Year’s Eve last year I said to the guy I was seeing, “I’m afraid for 2011.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because 2010 was so good,” I replied.

That fear was legit, 2011 has come to show. Again, I go back to where is the separation between self-fulfilling prophecy and just prophecy. E.g. My prediction of this terrible year. Or that guy I thought hurt me, lie to me, etc.– and he did.  That prophecy (or whatnot) was there the whole time. And then it came true. 

If it is self-fulfilling prophecies, I’d like to say: I’ll be rich, happy and healthy as could be in a year. However, I’m also a realist. And I realize that many of the things that have happened are out of my control: two deaths, two strokes and a dead cat this year. None of those were in my control, obviously. That idiot boy, my friends, whatever enormous hiccups, and any corresponding universal mind-fucks: Beyond my control. So how is that possibly self-fulfilling? 

I ponder. Anyway, back to the story at hand:

This past weekend I had another “feeling”. In the past I’ve had the feelings and signs I shouldn’t go anywhere and just stay home: Those are always the nights bad shit happens. Friday was one of those times, but I went and, in a rush, proceeded to drink more than I noticed till my sense of logic was a bit of a wash. Later, we went out to meet my girlfriend at the bar/club. Long story short: Some dick stole my purse: iPhone, debit card, credit card, newly funded SmarTrip card, license, house key, a whole $8 and…Purell. Look, I really liked that tiny little Purell bottle! Plus, you know, the purse that was my big ::sarcasm font:: splurge item I got in Miami last month. (You know, the Miami that was necessary for me to keep my wits since my whole universe was fucking with my head? That one. Ya.) I thought all the bad bullshit was over. Evidently, I was wrong.

WHERE IS MY PROPHECY NOW?!

And, unfortunately, while I usually passcode my phone when I go out, I forgot to that night. And when I called later that evening to cancel my card, the dicks had already used it at a bar on U St. Nice way to waste no time and promote stereotypes, kids. I also think they may have used my address on my license and house key to let themselves in Friday night, as my door was unlocked when I arrived home. Unnerving? You bet your sweet, sweet ass. Thank God for our house dog...and not much of anything to steal.

Luckily, when I go out, I only take essentials, so I have the other parts of my wallet, but everything else is gone. I spent the better part of the weekend trying to put my identity back together – and getting a dose of reality on the way: Walking to the Verizon store, I saw a girl coming out of a shop in a wheelchair and thought, “at least I can walk”. Talk about running into a glass door of Get the Hell Over It!

And while I am thankful for my faculties, I have to shell out $200 for a new iPhone (luckily I put insurance on my phone so it’s $200 v. $800). Meanwhile, I’ve been trying SO hard to save money: I lived on $16.57 worth of groceries for 35 days between July and August (more on Budgetary Mary later). Every time I try to start to budget/save, something like this happens and pushes me back and I get so frustrated and give up (which was the main reason for my bawling on the sidewalk outside the bar).

I’m not giving up this time. I think I left the girl that I was, sobbing on that sidewalk at 3am. It’s time to grow up. It’s time to finally, actually, really, outgrow my mistakes (seen here, here and here).This sucks, but I think as long as I learn something from it, it was an (unfortunate) experience worth having – and perhaps the necessary kick in the pants skirt I needed to see the error of my (drunken, gut-ignoring) ways. But man, is "responsibility" a four letter word.

Still, I hope whoever stole my purse gets hit by a semi and arrested for, well, anything. Then butt hugged a little by a man (or woman) named Bubba. Society, you really disappoint me sometimes; I’m sorry your mothers didn’t love you enough.

[Edit: After writing this I got a Facebook message from a rather attractive Jewish guy who lives near where my purse was stolen, informing me that he found my license on his 'garden' stoop. I contemplated asking him out, but decided against it on the basis of my non-negotiable of blue eyes and complete and utter awkwardness. I think he's also young. Speaking of Jews, my friend that helped me out that night told me that, while sobbing on the sidewalk, men kept hitting on me. Guys, weird. And that one homeless guy tried to say something and I was like "I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL. SOMEONE STOLE MY PURSE. I HAVE NO MONEY EITHER.". My retort to random guy hitting on me while losing my shit while sitting in the middle of a gum and gross laden sidewalk: 'Keep walking, just keep walking'. We are starting to laugh about this now...with most of my purse back together (now waiting on my license and debit card - which I found out they used to buy $98 worth of metro fare on - in the mail), I hope it's the end of the bad parts of this story.]

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