CRIME STOPPERS

Speaking of which, where are they WHEN I NEED THEM?? Am SO F-ING FREAKED RIGHT NOW, YOU'D NEVER BELIEVE IT. Get this.. I was sitting here, working at the computer, and I look out my front window. I see a black pick up truck drive right smack up to my mailbox AND STEAL EVERY DAMN THING OUT OF IT! Including: THE SPECIAL ORDER PACKAGE I WAS WAITING FOR. As in: $150 down the drain!!!

I can't even TELL you how upset I am. Oh yeah, the police are on their way over as we speak. I NEED TO FIND THIS THIEF LICKETY SPLIT SO I CAN RETRIEVE MY PACKAGE!! Eeks! God only knows what ELSE was in the mail box, by the way. Checks? Bills? Personal love letters from my adoring public? Jeez.. this is SO NOT COOL.

Oh yeah... I'm not the first in the neighborhood to have been vandalized. Apparently this guy has been busy up the kazoo doing this to my neighbors, too. And.. if THAT wasn't enough... my mailbox has already been damaged, hence LUCKY ME. I get to order a brand new one... for $250 I MIGHT ADD!! S@^*!!!!! I am so upset I can't even tell you. Okay so that's how it all started. Here's how it all ended.

As it happened, the police came. I gave my eyewitness account of all that went down, but trust me... I have little faith anything can be done after the fact. Besides, given the time I had to report the hundreds of thousands of dollars of jewelry that my mother's nurses stole... I am SO dealing with Andy of Mayberry. Better yet... Barnie and Gomer. Anyway, the policeman told me to check out the nearby gas stations, etc. for my discarded mail. Apparently the thief likes to first check out what they want, then rid themselves of the evidence. Anyway, I'm like driving around my area for almost an hour. No luck.

I get home... GUESS WHAT?? There's a phone message from some guy about a mile away. HE'S GOT MY PACKAGE!! YIPPEE!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! Uh... the crooks deemed it unworthy, for their own personal use, I see. That's the good news. The bad news of course is: I still don't have my mail. Nor will I ever get it. Whatever. In the meantime...

I hightail over to this guy's house without skipping a beat. Apparently the thief left my neighborhood, headed to his, opened the package, decided it didn't fit their needs, and boom. They merely threw it out the window, onto this man's lawn. Okay... three things. First, the thief obviously has no taste. THIS WAS A GREAT PACKAGE. Second... if he was going to toss it ANYWHERE, why not just toss it back to ME? Afterall, he knows where I live! Talk about poor planning regarding gasoline consumption. Lastly...

Upon entering my subdivision, lo and behold, who should I see but Michael! The BUILDER of my amazingly stunning home! Needless to say, I lay the entire story on him... I know. Just what he needs. Anyway, get this... by the time we're winding down this lastest soap opera, come to find out... his oldest child can now become MY VERY OWN PERSONAL MAILBOX PICKER UPPER! As in: Yippee! While I'm away, bingo. I'll not only have a personal U.S. mailman but NOW my very own personal mailboy, too! Talk about a silver lining, huh?

So... bottom line to all this?? If EVER you see some Caucasian guy, between the age of 18-28, driving a black pick up truck, wearing an orange cap, NAIL HIM! TIE HIM UP! CALL THE POLICE!! He SO deserves to visit the big house. To which, naturally... I'm sending him hate mail.