"Get The Fuck Away From That"

I have what you might say is a creative work schedule. This means that some days I do not go in to work until 4:00 o'clock. Wednesday I decided to go in about an hour and a half early. Some work issues were weighing on my mind so I figured I would just go in early and take care of them. Bad fucking idea. I won't be going in early anymore. EVER!

I arrived at work just as another co-worker was leaving. We stood in the lobby and spoke for about 10 minutes about some drama that was going on. I looked out the window and notice a car backing up near where I had parked. I really didn't think a whole lot about it. It was just something I noticed. About two minutes later I hear my car alarm. My first thought was "That motherfucker hit my car."

"Lisa" and I go running out the door just in time to see a very large man trying to scoot my seat back so he can sit in my car. I scream "Get the fuck away from that." The large man screams back "The fucking door was open." I'm a little stunned but I keep screaming at the top of my lungs and let me tell you, I have a set of lungs. "Lisa" and I both run towards my car, which also means we are running towards the large man and his two large friends, waving our arms like two pyschotic women fighting over the last man on earth. Do not ask me what the hell we were thinking.

The large man jumps back in his car and squeals off. I'm close enough to reach out to touch the car. I have a flash of ripping off the windshield wiper. Obviously this wouldn't help but somehow I know if I had done it I would have felt better. Somehow I have the presence of mind to get the license plate number. I run in the office to call 911. I know that 911 is suppose to be for emergencies but I did not have the time to look up the regular police precinct number. Besides I had the license plate number and was having visions of a high speed chase. The 911 lady was very nice.

After getting off the phone I go out to inspect the damage. Now my car is not even 6 months old. First I see a huge scratch. The lock has been mangled. I start to cry. The police arrived. The nice officer explained that the criminals were most probable intent on stealing the car not stealing anything inside. I am traumatized. She, the officer was a woman, also said that even though it was good I got the license plate it was not very smart to "confront" the men. Well what the fuck did you want me to do? Was I just going to sit there and watch them drive off in my car? She said that is exactly what I should have done.

I call the insurance company. That was a nightmare. I call the dealership where it is explained to me that both locks, driver side and passenger side, will have to be replaced. Forever more I will have to use one key to unlock the car and one to start it. This will cost me a pretty penny. I try to call my mother. No answer. I try to call my grandparents who live in the same city as me and spoil me rotten. No answer. I try to call my best friend. No answer. I start to call "Jason" and remember he is a douche. I have no one to cry to. I may be more pissed off about this than I am about the car.

So now I have to retell the story a million times as more people show up at work. I keep wondering why he yelled about the door being open. It was obvious since the alarm was going off that the door wasn't open. I also start to think about what could have happened to "Lisa" and myself. I freak out. I'm freaking out about the car, the damage, the pain in the ass it will be to get it fixed, and about the fact that we just confronted three large men.

Jesus Freak Boss tells me I must calm down. "It is just a car". "You can't take it with you". "In the scheme of all things, this is little". "People have real problems". "When Jesus comes back it won't matter."

OK, everything he said was probably true but it is MY car. I didn't want to fucking calm down. Sure people have real problems but right that second I didn't know those people. And I didn't see Jesus descending from heaven so it did matter.

The theme of the rest of the day seemed to be how lucky I was that I wasn't shot. People also kept reminding me that I can't take it with me. I want to beat the ever living shit out of these people. I was also reminded that at least they didn't actually steal it. Well fuck, the car is defaced. I wish to fuck they had stolen it. Maybe they will come back tomorrow before I get it fixed. I'm ready with a fucking baseball bat.

I've also decided this just isn't my week. First the date with the controlling ass. Then an email from The Boy. And now my car being almost stolen. Someone come give me hug. Please.