Sunday, July 6, 2014


Things that make the fourth fun?
Stars and Stripes. Neil Diamond. Grilled meat. Fruit. Fireworks. General Gluttony.  

Things that make the fourth not fun? 
Getting your purse stolen. 

Yeah, turns out that's a real buzz kill. 

Philly is a real son of a...well, you can imagine. 

There I was, minding my own business, pumped on life. Sure, my original plan had been Boston. But Hurricane Arthur had other plans, managing to opposite-of-postpone the fourth of July spectacular. So my group of friends regrouped and decided on Philly. 

First mistake. 

And we all can guess what happens next. I went off to enjoy the concert, leaving my bag with the group. There were a bunch of bags there, someone in the group was always there. So let's not lay blame; it was just one second  and my bag was taken. Could have been anyone's. It just happened to be mine. 

For a minute I believe that maybe I can find it, that maybe it was buried somewhere and it will just be one of those New Era stories where if I only pray hard enough or sing some hymn, some guilty thief would return my bag to me. 

It didn't happen. 

And after some denial and definitely after some begging, I faced the music and decided there were certain things that needed done. So I called my bank. 

Well, first, let's be real: I hyperventilated hard core. Mostly because I still have the stuffiest nose, so breathing is already hard. So, yeah, I cried. And it got ugly. 

But then I called the bank. 

My credit card company. 

My other credit card company. 

And the other one. 

Turns out, my card was used for gas and a dollar candy at the convenience store. 

Which is just rude: not only did I have a thief, but I had an uncreative one at best. Twenty-five on gas? That's the best you can do? Dream a little bigger, darling. 

It kinda sucks, feeling the rug pulled out from under you and having no real idea how to go about picking up the pieces. I mean, I have no money--and this came after two unforeseen medical bills that already put me in the red zone financially. They took my keys, my metro card, my ID...not to mention my favorite wallet and my best deck of cards (also metro cards) and my key chain from Paris. My tissues (which would have come in handy with all the crying and snot blowing that was happening) and $25 and my headphones and Chapstick and--


Let's be real. That's probably why they stole it in the first place; I literally made it irresistible. Welchs fruit snacks by the dozen. mmm. Can I really blame them? 

Answer: yes, yes, I can. And I wish I had the opportunity to knee him/her/them in the balls while shouting some major profanities because WTF douchebag?! Who ruins Americas day for a lousy $20? You're the worst and your city can just suck it. 

I've had enough of your crap, Philly! 

It was pretty traumatic but I dealt. They only had an hour before I managed to cancel all my cards and alert the banks. So there. I still got to go and listen to Nicki Minaj and Ed Sheeran KILL IT. And then I watched the coolest most expensive fireworks show because #muhrica  So all in all it was a good night. 

...And also a no good dirty awful night that I will never forget. 

You win some, you lose some. And I lost. Big time. 

But, hey, I absolutely love and adore philly! Absolutely nothing can turn me against it! 

(This is a major lie. Philly is the worst.)

So much for brotherly love, #amiright 

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