Do I Have a Target on Me?

Remember back in 2006 and 2007 when my apartment was broken into? (Like, three times, but who's counting, anyway?) And everyone told me that I should move and then I started looking for a house and it took me a million years and I looked at two hundred houses and I made three different offers on three different houses and finally someone sold one to me out of pity. And it just so happens to be the house that I'm currently living in and paying a mortgage on and trying to refinance so I can pay less money on and it's also the same location WHERE SOMEONE STOLE MY GOLF CLUBS FROM CAROLYN'S CAR. Yeah. That happened.

Granted, her car was accidentally unlocked, but that's not the point. We both got all of our clubs and golf gear stolen over the weekend which totaled up to about $1450 in loss. Which is exactly that crappy point of loss when you have a $1000 deductible and filing a claim means that your insurance is going to go up $80 that will last for the next five years. Totally not worth it.

Long story short:

I called the police to report a theft from the vehicle. This conversation took place:

Me: Stuff was stolen!
Dispatcher: Did they leave behind tools or anything else?
Me: No.
Dispatcher: I'm going to give you a number to file a report over the phone.
Me: Would it make a difference if I told you I work at the crime lab and I really want an officer out here?
Dispatcher: Uuuuuummmmmm... I don't know. Hang on.
*pause*
Dispatcher: We'll be sending someone there.
Me: Thank you!

So, two officers came out and we filed the report and they fingerprinted Carolyn's car (That's a bitch to clean, in case you didn't know. PS, she hasn't yet. I keep getting a black forearm from resting my arm on her window.) and collected a few envelopes that were in the center console that ended up on the passenger side front seat, so I know Bad Guy touched them.

And we were sad.

Actually, I was enraged. If I had that power that turned me into the hulk, I would have been all "HULK SMASH!" all day long. But I don't. So I didn't. So, there's that. At least all my other stuff wasn't in tiny pieces.

Anyway, getting stuff stolen sucks. And apparently, people really like to take my things.

Listen everyone - my things are not that super extra especially nice. But it turns out, I'm highly attached to my things. So stop taking them from me. It's emotionally damaging. And it turns out, YOU WILL GET CAUGHT.

Okay, so, this is really the best part of the story. Are you ready? I don't think you're ready. Sit down or something. You are? Oh...

Three years later, after my apartment burglary, the crime lab got a CODIS hit on the swabs collected from my window screen. (See, there WAS a reason I mentioned it in the first sentence of this post.)

That's right, Jerk! The cops know who you are. You fucked with the wrong person. (I know you thought that when Remy scared the ever-loving crap out of you, but now we have a DNA database for backup. Honestly I just want to prosecute so we can have Remy testify in court. Wouldn't that be the *cutest?*)

And it turns out that the idiot that stole my golf clubs also just got caught. I got a call from my case detective today saying that they found my golf clubs (sadly Carolyn's clubs have yet to be recovered).

Apparently the police got a tip regarding a bunch of business burglaries and went to talk to their suspect in the case. He was staying at his girlfriend's apartment, she opened the door and told the police that they could come in, and BEHOLD, there were my golf clubs, right there in the apartment. Bad Guy said that he bought them at a garage sale 8 months ago, but Detective found a receipt in there from Tomahawk Hills from about a month ago for 9 holes. Yay golf league! (That was probably when it was sweltering and Carolyn wasn't there and we decided to play best ball and got a 52. Good times.)

The women's clubs and women's shoes were clearly not his, and he had a whole bunch of other stolen property like power tools and drills and chainsaws and leaf blowers and stuff. So, I had to go make a report, sign it, get a picture taken with me and all my stuff (that's weird, right?), and then I got to take all of my things home!

They also found one tan fuzzy head cover from Carolyn's golf set. That's kind of like rubbing salt in the wound, but I took it anyway. I told her it was her beacon of hope, that her clubs were out there somewhere, and one step closer to being found because now they know who Bad Guy is. (It's hard to come up with comforting bullshit when you're super happy to have your stuff back and trying not to be giddy over it because her stuff is still out there homeless and sad and missing and lonely and in need of a hug and stuff.)

So, moral of the story is this - DON'T FUCK WITH ME, BAD GUYS.

I'm glad that I've gotten this Bad Guy Public Service announcement out there for consumption. I'm serious. Just don't.


End Blog.

Rape Culture

I'm sure you've heard about the allegations regarding Ben Roethlisberger and how he raped an employee at Harrah's in Lake Tahoe. I don't know how much you're aware of, or what is going on in the media/blogosphere.

Some take it seriously, some do not, some call her a gold digger. Some say the allegations can't be true because there was no criminal report and it's a year later.

Are you serious?

I deal with this EVERY DAY. And a reason why rape is such a big deal is because of media events like THIS and how poorly they are ALWAYS handled. Remember Kobe Byrant? Anyone know how that ended? All charges were dropped because the woman refused to testify. I don't blame her, either. Do you know how scary that would be? Do you even have any idea how horrible the whole process is? It might even be more emotionally scarring than the assault.

And with this case, everyone told her not to report. That she was lucky to have had sex with this man; he was a legend! Any girl would be lucky to be in her place!

It makes me sick to know that we could have done something for this woman, if only she had come forward. It doesn't matter if your rapist is famous, it's STILL RAPE. She didn't just have sex with him and regret it. She didn't just have sex with him when she didn't want to. That's called rape. She didn't have sex with Ben Roethlisberger, she was raped by him. THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.

This would have been the *perfect* case for anonymous reporting. We're working on it. I promise. You can get a sexual assault exam at the hospital and not report to the police. Do not let anyone talk you out of it. Get it done - even if you're not sure if you're going to prosecute or report to the police. If you decide to a year later, at least the evidence has been collected. Hell, it'll probably take us another year to work it and get a DNA profile if there's anything probative in the kit anyway.

There is help out there. And there are advocates and counseling to get you through it. This woman was hospitalized for depression after the event because she had absolutely no support system.

Our culture, the media, society's views - they're wrong. It's up to all of us to change them.

Here's a really great story regarding rape culture.

If you don't know what it is, read this.

Often times I am reminded how largely ignorant the general populations is. I wonder how it could be that I am brighter than SO MANY people. I don't think of myself that way - until something like this comes along. Then I feel pretty arrogant... but I think, appropriately so.

The media cares about celebrities. About Michael Jackson's death. It's all we report on. I haven't seen one story representing this woman appropriately.

Sure, I believe in innocent until proven guilty. But that doesn't mean that you don't believe the victim's statements. Leave it to the courts to decide - but don't discredit her. It took a lot of courage to come forward.

Sorry, I'm too angry/excitable about this topic... Ending rant. (Totally check that link if you haven't.)


End Blog.

Ownership

I'm not sure why I continue to try to be a homeowner. I've been looking at houses since early summer, and yet, I still do not own one. My lease will be up at the end of November and I have sworn to be moved out by then. I even have "get out of jail free" paperwork that releases me from my lease with no penalties as long as I give them 30 days notice. And all I had to do was file two police reports to get it!

I currently have broken wood around my back storm door and a missing window screen because the CSIs took it as evidence eons ago. I'm wondering if these things will come out of my security deposit. It's not like that money provided me with any security, whatsoever.

Although, it's really funny that I'm even worrying about it... because I have come to realize that I am NEVER going to own a house. Granted, the first house I made an offer on was a little impulsive, but it was a nice house with a great location, although the neighborhood probably could have been nicer. But, in my opinion, they wanted too much money for the house. When they finally did sell it, it sold for $3,000 over my final offer, so I guess they made out okay.

The second house I put an offer on was in a slightly less desirable location - and by this, I mean that it makes my commute longer. But it had a finished basement that was pretty darn sweet. And as an added bonus, he was leaving his refrigerator behind, so I wasn't going to have to purchase one of those. I tried to work the washer and dryer into the deal. No go. Even though I gave him a full priced offer for his house and only asked him to pay $2,000 in closing costs, he decided that the deal was not favorable enough for him. Even dropping the washer and dryer from the deal, he was not happy.

Three days later he's asking my realtor why I didn't take his "counter offer" of no closing costs while I pay full price for his home. It's a super deal! FOR HIM. Needless to say, he's not getting a Christmas card from me this year.

It reminds me of the Calvin and Hobbes comic (I tried to find it but was unable to) where Calvin's Dad says, "The world isn't fair, Calvin," to which he replies, "I know Dad, but why isn't it ever unfair in my favor?"

Which brings me to house number three. Third time's a charm? Well... maybe. If you jump through these hoops first.

House three completely changes my commute, which I was not thrilled about until I drove home from work to house number three. It took me 24 minutes, which is quite comparable to the time it currently takes me. I will have to learn the area a little better, but it's the nicest neighborhood I've looked in, and has the best school district of all of them as well. (Not that I plan on sending kiddies off to school, ever, but it's good for resale value.) Of course, that also means this house has the highest taxes as well. Long story short, I made the third offer.

Today, I heard nothing all day. No counters, no refusals, nothing. One hour before the offer was to expire, I get this story from my agent:

The seller's agent is in California. His office emailed my faxed offer to the wrong email address and he spent the day not knowing that an offer existed. After my agent got into contact with him in California, we found all of this out. So, another email was sent to the correct email address. But he needs to look the offer over before he shows it to his sellers and gee-golly-whiz, couldn't we extend the offer until tomorrow? Okay, sure. I'd still like for them to counter offer me (who am I kidding, I want them to flat out just freaking accept the thing already).

So, I sit and wait another day before I figure out what is going on with house number three. It'd be super nice if they felt guilty about making me wait over 24 hours with this whole thing and just signed off on it, but this is me here... that's not going to happen.

I have so little faith in this whole house buying process. I'm not sure why I'm still looking, other than the fact that I don't want to have to struggle to find a parking space outside of my apartment, I don't want my apartment broken into, I'd really like a house with a yard for my dog to play, and a place to stick my car so that I have a winter free of scraping ice from the windshield. Oh, and the number one reason: I don't throw money away on rent every month and actually own something 30 years from now.

So I wait.

Needless to say, should I get this house, I will be spending a ton of money. I'll need a refrigerator, a washer, and a dryer... and some lamps for the living room because there are no overhead lights. And eventually some area rugs, smoke detectors, cable installation (who are we kidding, I'd get this put in when I closed on the house!), window coverings, a garage door opener, and a small portion of fence to completely enclose the back yard. And with all those things, I still want a house.

I am sick of living in an apartment when I could be in a real house for an additional $200 a month. Totally worth it.

Dear people who probably still don't know I made an offer on your house...
Please let me buy it.
Thank you.


End Blog.