Fucking Fuckity Fuckers, Man

My fucking car got fucking broken into last night by some fucking fucks outside Jack of the Wood. I don't even know how they got in, because I could swear I locked it when I left it in the First Citizens Bank lot on the corner of Patton & Skyland, but when I got back 4 hours later, the drivers side door was open and it had been thoroughly, thoroughly tossed. I am so fucking pissed off.

I didn't call the cops last night because I didn't feel like dealing with it, so I just got off the phone with them. I love the way cops make you feel like you are being a royal pain in the ass when actually you are doing your own fucking civic duty by fucking bothering to fucking inform them that there are people breaking into cars on the corner of Patton and Skyland and maybe, just maybe, if they are aware of this shit they could possibly, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, send a cop by to patrol once in a fucking while.

My car is too full of stuff; okay, I know that. I hadn't really finished unpacking from my trip yet. So the fuckers took all my change - fine. They took a little embroidered purse - not so fine - which contained a beaded necklace a friend made.I will be LOOKING for that necklace, assholes; it's one of a kind and I know what it looks like. They dumped the purse first and left my amber earrings, which are much more valuable, sitting there. They left at least most of my cassettes; they left an unopened container of AA batteries, but they took an unopened container of D batteries. I am worried that they may have found and taken a couple of deposit slips or, even worse, a checkbook, because I have been known to leave a checkbook in the glove compartment for emergencies and I have a tendency to just stuff deposit slips in between the car seats.

There may well have been a checkbook. God knows there was stuff in the glove compartment I had completely forgotten about - directions to a party in Vermont that I attended in 1999 and shit like that. Postcards of cows, never mailed. It was all pulled out of the glove compartment and thrown all over the seat. But I can't get ahold of a human being at the fucking bank, although I have been TRYING to inform them of this fact and put a fraud alert or something on my bank account since this morning.

They didn't take my tent, or my sleeping bag, or the cheap mexican blanket I use at the beach. They didn't take my laundry detergent, or the cans of bug spray, or my cowboy boots or my sneakers. I don't know if they took any cassette tapes or not - it's possible that they left with my priceless copy of Bananarama Cruel Summer but I can't imagine why. This kind of thing is just so goddamn annoying. I should have remembered that friends of mine have had their cars broken into at that lot; I should have found on street parking; I should, I shouldn't, whatever. God Damn It.