An Open Letter to the Whore Who Stole My Things Last Night

Dear Whore Who Stole My Things Last Night,



I hate you.



No Love,

Shoulders


I went downtown last night per usual, and things were going swimmingly. Within the first five minutes of being downtown I was handed 3 shots which I took with relish (the emotional kind, not the pickle kind). I was dancing, drinking, doing what I normally do. I ran into GP who was downtown with a guy who I am certain was Steve-O of Jackass fame. Everything was good. It was getting crowded and we were trying to track down a frat boy or two, so we left OUR BAR and headed next door. More shots. We decided to dance as something sexy was playing and for the first time in my ENTIRE life I set my things down on a bench adjacent to the dance floor.

I am getting my grove on and someone turns to me and says "someone stole your things." Bitch says WHAT?!?!

There were 6 of us downtown and I do the only logical thing and stand outside and cry on the shoulder of the bar owner. Everyone else scatters. Apparently 3 of the girls I was with saw the whore who stole my things and they are determined to track this bitch down. Here are a few of the choice comments that were the result:

"She took my tampons! Do you know how much those cost?! Fucking inflation" - another girl whose things were taken

"I know this whore, she threw my purse in a dumpster." - same girl, wandering down an alley checking dumpsters

"What did she look like?"
"She was a fat whore, she had a muffin top."

I sit on the curb and continue to cry but all I want to do is go home. I have no form of payment, so I have to wait on everyone else. The other girl who was robbed calls her mom at 1:40 in the morning who comes to pick us up. I am still in no mood to be nice.

We get in her mom's car and there is a dog in it. Her name is Bernice. Normally I love a dog, but I WAS JUST ROBBED. I ride home, crawl into Venus' bed and pass out. I wake up at 9:30 this morning and think "man, last night was crazy, now where did I leave my phone?" When it hits me:

I WAS FUCKING ROBBED

I feel like crying again, but instead I take Venus' phone and leave her snoozing and start to cancel things.

Credit card man "How can I help you?"
Me: "I was fucking robbed."
Credit card man: "Wow, that's awful, what can I do for you?"
Me: "Whelp, aren't you in the business of canceling credit cards? How about we start there?"

Debit card woman (in an annoyingly perky voice): "Good morning, how can I help you"
Me: "Oh yeah, its a freaking great morning, a real doozy - can you just cancel my credit card?"

Phone Man: "Hi, How's it going?"
Me: "Oh peachy, some whore stole essentially everything I own last night."
Phone Man: "Wow, that sucks."
Me: "I'll say."

Things are manageable though. I have my passport, so the boozing will continue and I am getting new cards in 5-7 days. My new camera that I just got is gone and I was planning on taking it to the Future Mrs. W's wedding in 2 weeks.

Shockingly the Crazylady was very sympathetic and told me I should "really report that to the police." Then she called later to tell me this little story:

the Crazylady: "The Hurst boyscout troup had a trailer with $3,000 worth of camping equipment stolen"
Me: "Huh?"
the Crazylady: "Yeah, they sold popcorn to buy all of that stuff and then someone just stole it."
Me: "That is the most horrible thing I have ever heard, thanks for depressing me even more."
the Crazylady: "Well, I just wanted to let you know that there is a whole troup of little boys who know exactly how you feel."
Me: "Wow, you are nuts."