Stop! Thief!

I just had a bike stolen for the 2nd summer in a row. It's a new summer tradition I'm starting. It's getting to be an expensive tradition, but it's one that I think will continue whether I want it to or not.

Whenever shit like this happens it just makes me so mad that there are people out there who do this kind of thing. One wonders if they even feel bad about it. I'll tell you one thing, this asshole won't make any money off the my $150 Target bike, but he has horribly inconvenienced me, because now I have to take the fricking bus to work. You know what I hate about buses? Waiting. You know what else? Stopping. On m bike it may take me a while to get somewhere but I never stop.

Would anyone object if in the future I catch a bike stealer and beat the ever-loving* shit out of him? Objections . . . ?

*Where did this phrase come from?

The Eighth Samurai

My mom sent me the following article from the Chicago Tribune:

Cops probe series of N. Side robberies
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Tribune staff reports

February 9, 2006, 9:09 AM CST

Police are investigating a number of strong-arm robberies on the city's
North Side.

The crimes occurred in the evenings and weekends between Jan. 21 and
Feb. 3 mostly in the Lakeview neighborhood, in an area bounded by
Lawrence Avenue on the north, Diversey Parkway on the south, Lake Shore Drive
on the east and Damen Avenue on the west, police said.

The robbers are working in teams of two or more, jumping victims from
behind, striking them on the head and in the face, knocking them to the
ground, police said.

The suspects demand victims' wallets and bankcard PINs, and have fled
on foot or in a white Pontiac, police said.
Copyright (c) 2006, Chicago Tribune
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Granted this is a HUGE stretch of real estate, so the odds of getting robbed by these thugs are a little slim, but I was a little scared when I read it. I have done many walks home alone and thought nothing of it. However, there was one night . . .

I was at the Liar’s Club. It was just my roommate and I out. We got talking to some girls, and then there was a stretch of time when the lone semi-attractive one was chatting with the two of us. I got thinking, well, he’s in a bigger slump than me, I’m certainly not into anything that would involve the BOTH of us, So, I was looking to pull a Houdini, and let him have this one. I know there is a definition of a Houdini that has to do with an act that no man has actually ever done in the same vain as The Donkey Punch, but that’s not the definition I’m talking about. The one I’m referring to is when you duck out of a bar without saying goodbye to anyone. This is done for various reasons:
1) You don’t want people trying to talk you into staying.
2) You want to disappear because there is someone at the bar you don’t want to see
3) Your friends are all hooking up and you’d rather just disappear without making an issue of your absence.

This night was a Class 3 Houdini. All my close friends have done this on at least one occasion. As a guy, I think it’s fine, but women tend not to do this because of safety issues. This is when you come across some Gate Keepers, but that’s a whole other blog entry. Anyway, I’m walking home alone up Ashland thinking I’m perfectly safe. For whatever reason, be it drunkenness, tiredness, depression, or some combination of all of them, I was walking with my head down. Just through my sense of hearing, I knew there were some drunken 20-somethings approaching, but I didn’t lift my head to acknowledge them. Before I knew it, I heard an ungodly war cry, which caused me to look up, as anyone would when they hear an ungodly war cry, and at that time I saw an angry-faced psychotic drunk swinging a samurai sword in my face. What could I do? I screamed like a girl and said, “Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me!” as I kept walking. His friends continued to walk away, laughing, while angry-faced psychotic drunk (AFPD) just pivoted, all the while maintaining his angry face and pointing his sword at me as I walked away.

Well, needless to say it scared the bajeezes out of me, but at least I didn’t get beaten into giving up my wallet and ATM code. Well, mom, if you’re reading, I promise to take a cab from now on. But, if I happen to be heading up Ashland in my cab, and I see AFPD, I will be left with no choice but to exit my cab, “striking (strike) them (him) in the head and in the face, knocking them (him) to the ground. He can keep his “wallets (wallet), “bankcard PINs”, and “White Pontiac.” I may have to take his sword so that this doesn’t ever happen to anyone again! Well, after the 2 or 3 people I do it to on the walk home . . .