badness, humor, life


One of the great things about living with Diminutive Roommate is that when I need to exact some kind of revenge on someone, she can think of half a dozen ways to do so within the law.  She and I are just great ranting buddies.  We love and encourage each other this way instead of hugging and sharing meaningful experiences.  If one of us is annoyed about something, the other is immediately pissed.  If one of us is sad about something, the other is inconsolable.  If one of us has a problem, a solution must and will be reached now, and we will reach it together.  And when one of us is wronged, we become one unit moving toward justice.

Today marks the third time I’ve had a package stolen off my doorstep.  It’s infuriating, not because I just spent $30 on something I may never be refunded for, but because of what having something that’s obviously mine stolen from inside my building implies: I’m living among thieves.  Filthy fucking thieves.  I don’t feel safe with my neighbors (which, given what I’ve written about them before, actually makes perfect sense).  Maybe I should know better by now.  I guess I just keep expecting the people I live next to to STOP STEALING MY SHIT.

maybe if i told them i was a ninja, they'd leave my packages alone

I told Diminutive Roommate about this, and she immediately got all fired up.  And thank god.  My first reaction is to be angry, then hurt that anyone (let alone my own [albeit horrible] neighbors) would do this to me.  Action was needed, and while I was wallowing in self-pity, Diminutive Roommate was already working on a plan.  Together we came up with a cheap, doable sting operation.

We’ll put a package on the doorstep/mailbox clearly addressed to me.  Inside, we’ll put a really loud remote-controlled alarm.  When the package gets nabbed, we’ll go outside and set off the alarm, following the hideously loud ruckus to the guilty party, camera rolling, and demand our horribly ear-piercing property back.  The trick will be knowing when the package gets grabbed.  Maybe we can put a pressure sensor under the package that goes off when it gets picked up…  Either way, I’ll be delighted just knowing that we startled the culprit into peeing himself a little (if there is a god).

Batman Begins was on tonight, and I caught the first third or so where Bruce fails to kill his parents’ murderer, then gets all embroiled in the underbelly of the criminal world abroad, then trains with the Shadow Society, then returns to Gotham to become the embodiment of fear that allows him to control his own.  My situation is exactly like that; I’m taking a situation that pisses me the fuck off and makes me feel like a victim, and using it to strike fear into the heart of whatever fucktard has been stupid enough to steal my hard-earned crap.  I am so full of vengeance.  It’s on.

I’m feeling really, really good about other stuff.  Yeah, I’ve lost some hours at the dojo.  Yeah, my crap keeps getting lifted from my “secure building.”  But I have a new car on the way that I’m starting to get really fucking excited about.  I’m totally batshit crazy about Boyfriend and he seems to feel the same way.  I’m probably not going to have to move to another apartment, which will save me the hassle of… moving, which is a pain in the ass.  So things are looking up overall.


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