So when I got home last night, I found that my apartment had been broken into. Gone were my new iBook (thief beware, it has some serious kernel overload issues), PS2 (I was just getting into Everything or Nothing), and my beloved Canon T50 that I’ve had since I was 10 years old. They apparently analyzed my smashed up, ghetto G3 iBook, and decided it wasn’t worth its weight.

So the cops came and I got scolded for having left my 3rd floor rear window open “you just invited them in.”

“Look lady, I know that wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but locks are to keep the honest people out, you know? I could do without your judgment right now”

Regardless of my sass, she sent over the ET (Evidence Technician”) to take prints. Naturally, there were none. Naturally, the ET didn’t realize that he was dusting for prints all over a Friso Kramer desk (Belgium, c. 1960), and when I went to wipe all that charcoal shit off, it just got ingrained deeper into the wood. So pissed. But that was not The Straw That Broke The Camel’s Back.

So fine. I’m pissed. I’m depressed. I get up this morning and shave, and as I reach for my new favorite product, some fig scented L’Occitane shaving oil… IT’S GONE! I can’t fucking believe it. I noticed that my medicine cabinet was open, probably in a hunt for prescription drugs, but what was this, spite?

Please keep your noses open and let me know if you smell the culprit, eh?