Well, that fucking SUCKED



I was just mugged.

Here in the fucking Valley.

I live in Hollywood seven years, walk home by myself after dark all the
time, and nothing ever happens to me. I stop at the ATM in Woodland
Hills on Topanga Canyon, by a busy road and in a brightly lit area, and
I get held up.

One guy poked the point of a knife into my back and the other stood in
front of me holding his waistband, ostensibly to make it look like he
had a gun; I don't think he really did, but I wasn't about to find out.

They wanted me to withdraw $200, the limit at the atm, but I lied and
said I didn't have that much, and so I withdrew $100; I said, Look, I'm
gonna back away from the atm, and you can grab the money and the card
and run, just leave me alone. The second the money clicked out the one
guy grabed it and the other guy, the one with the knife behind me, tore
my purse off my arm, sending me spinnign around and almost falling down.
They ran off.

I was still holding my wallet in my hand.

Yay.

They were just young guys, prolly not over 20, and nervous as hell.
Little homeboy types.

My phone, my wonderful lovable magical cameraphone, the one with every
fucking phone number in the world on it, phone numbers of people I have
no way of reaching now, was in the purse; nothing else of value was in
it. I'm so amazed and grateful I still have my wallet, cos that's where
I keep all the sentimental stuff like photos and notes and things.

I have insurance on the phone, so it'll be replaced asap. It's already
been deactivated. Please send me your phone numbers, people, so I can
put them into my new FUCKING phone.

I'm so enraged I could spit.

I'm also still shaking.

I'm sure the atm got video of both the guys; I stalled as long as I
could. I filed a complete police report and have to go to the bank in
the morning to say, Hi, I was mugged here last night, can you give me my
money back?

I was actually due to meet my folks for dinner right after that, so I
went and met them, and I was mad as hell and shaking and scared, but I
didn't want to be the kind of person who never leaves the house again,
so I went back (with my parents, not alone) to the bank about an hour
and a half later and looked all over the area for my purse in any trash
cans--but no luck. They really booked it out of there. Little fuckers.

God, I sure wish there was a remote "Detonate" function on that phone.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Argh.