It was a fairly normal night. My mom hung out for a little while and ate some chips and salsa with me, I served a ton o' beer and gin and tonics (and Guinness to Jeffrey). I didn't get too pissed off at anyone, although I was slightly irritated at this Native dude who tried to give me this homemade-looking Oklahoma Tribal identification card in exchange for pool balls. I said, "Um, do you have like a driver's license?" As if I hadn't already asked for it... Anyways, he hands me this identification card that has "NOT A DRIVER'S LICENSE" printed all over it. I inquired to Jeffrey what this may be about and he explained that the dude had probably gotten a DUI.
So it was around the time that the Native was returning the pool balls (like 1:45 a.m.) that Wes the Bouncer (or "cooler" as they call them at Coyote) comes downstairs and asks if anyone in my bar owns a black Jeep. Now when I think of Jeep, I'm thinking Wrangler. My Jeep is a Grand Cherokee... Laredo. Don't ask me what the Laredo means because I have no clue.
I spoke up and said I have a black Jeep, which was parked across the street from the bar's main entrance. Keep in mind I started parking there instead of the lower parking lot because my mom and brother were afraid my brother's ex-girlfriend would try and eff it up because she's crazy. This parking lot is in plain view from the top floor of the bar, so we thought it would be safer. Um, how 'bout NO.
Wes informed me that the Jeep had been broken into and they had the guys who did it in custody. I kinda laughed because I had the U-joints replaced like last week and had taken everything out of there, not to mention I have spent the last two days vacuuming and Armorall-ing the interior. My guess is these guys saw how amazingly shiny and clean the inside of the Jeep was and wanted a closer look, because there was NOTHING to steal. Or so I thought.
I checked out my stereo and the "frame" thing that was around the faceplate was g-o-n-e. That's all I noticed was missing. They didn't even take the dollar I had in the console, or the change I had in a little thing by the gear shift. I talked to the cops, blah, blah, blah, and went back to work so I could close up and finish this larseny deal. So as I'm cleaning, I realize that my sweet CD holder (which Amanda gave to me after a gentleman caller left it at her place) was missing, along with two of my three Neil Diamond "box set" CDs, and more importantly, CDs burned for me by my brother. Picture this, though, every single one of those CDs was burned. Why would they even want them??
So I'm telling the cops about this and the dudes who did it are still in the backs of the cop Jeeps. Well, one of them starts messing with me, making faces and talking to me, even though I couldn't hear him. I tried to ignore it from the corner of my eye, but I looked over and he was pointing from his eye to me and back again. I haven't been scared for a long time, but I think I am now. These dudes are going to get some effing gangbangers to come mess with me.
I have to wonder why they even wanted my stereo. It's a Pioneer from like three years ago... not so cool. And seriously, who steals car radios anymore? Not to mention like ten burned CDs, including one titled "Skinny White Boys Sing to You" and Neil Diamond? I didn't think Mexican gangsters liked Neil, but what do I know? They might do drive-bys to "Love on the Rocks", "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show", or maybe even "Crunchy Granola Suite". I know Neil inspires me to do things. But it's more like sing along and be happy... if anyone wants to buy me this CD because they feel pity for the fool who is going to be chased down by *thug life* and whatnot, I won't mind.
I tell you what, though, I do not think Neil would be very happy if he heard about this. I might have to message him on MySpace (heck yes, he's my friend) and tell him what happened.
And there's more. Not only were these guys thugs, they were apparently driving a mini van. Woulda been more thuggish if it was a contravan, but hey, this is The Dizz, not TAFKAS. I looked at my CDs in the van and what else did I see in it? A baby seat and baby wipes. This breaks my heart a little bit. Poor kid is probably doomed to live the gansta life.
Oh, and I also don't know where the CD case is. I don't know if the cops have it or if they just didn't take it out of said mini van. If I don't get it back, I'm gonna be PISSED.
So Reason 261 is: Gangsters want to kill you and you should probably leave.
Sorry if this rant is confusing and lacking in GSP skills. It's nearly 5 a.m. and I'm a little stressed out. :o(
P.S. - Thanks to Dustin and Wes who are not only highly protective of me, but ready to kick these guys' asses if they ever come near me or the Cantina ever again. I guess I need to put both of them on speed dial...