I Officially Hate Durham, NC

Last night/this morning is one of the more bizarre nights I have experienced in my short and fruntless life thus far... The recipe?

1. Start with generous portions of Stay-up-late-because-I-was-strangely-ultra-productive.

Catch up on work, readings, cleaning the apt, throwing out useless junk, relax on the guitar, etc.

All good, right?

2. Look at the clock while keep reminding myself that since I deliberately did not set the clock back one hour, I still have one more hour to goof off. The night is young, after all!

3. Falling a sleep for a little bit before being awaken by a frenzy of knocking on my door. I ignore it. It doesn't go away. Louder now, in fact. I try to look for my cell and then realizing I can only be armed with a knife at best. I quietly walk toward the door.

4. "Who is it? "Durham police" says some dude dressed like a cop in my peephole. "Can I see some ID?" "Are you Blah Blah? Your Firebird has been broekn into. I need you to come with me".

I nearly faint.

5. Turns out 5 cars in my apt parking lot were hit. They did catch the three retards responsible thanks to an apt neighbor who saw something suspicious in the parking lot and called it in. My beloved baby at first looks good.

"Still in one piece, that's a good sign", I told myself.

But then the lady with the "Forensics" jacket told me about one of the perps bleeding inside the car. I pictured the worst.

6. The actual damage - those three fucking retards apparently couldn't even learn how to properly boost a car. So they smashed my baby's driver side window to smithereen. And took... my 9 year old Alpine CD deck that was half dead. Earlier this week, I was actually thinking about getting a replacement. This was where the fuckers bled in the car - must have cut his hand(s) while ripping apart the plastic container around the CD deck.

You know, I would have seriously considered giving that CD deck to someone who needs it, much less three retards who managed to get caught not 10 minutes after they made their getaway in a camry. I asked the cops about their age. Something like 19, 21, 26. Yep, sounds like a moronic bunch.

7. Cleaning up the aftermath... gotta get a replacement window AND retint it to match the intact passenger and back windows. After an initial carefree period of shock, I think I have gone into the blinding anger stage. Not sure how you are *suppose* to go through the 4 stages of grieving, but somehow I just keep imagining breaking every bone in those fuckers bodies with my bare hands. And then shooting them in their knees.

8. Also, when I first heard the news, in my distraught state I tried to get dressed. Result? Ripping my favorite pair of jeans. It was piss old, yes. Hence the authentic wear & tear. It was just my luck that as I was preoccupied, i somehow stepped through one of those wear & tear holes and managed to rip it wide open.

So yeah, I take these a one big sign for me to get the hell out!