SOMEONE FUCKING STOLE MY FUCKING CAR! FUCK!

That's right. As if I don't have enough bullshit to deal with right now, someone decided they needed an Acura RSX more than I do, and promptly relived me of THE CAR THAT I LOVED. Fuck man. FUCK! 

Yesterday I woke up and wrote a list of shit I need from Target. It was a typically gray Chicago spring day, gloomy and drizzly, made even more so by the pile of broken glass that rests next to where my car used to. 

It took awhile to sink in, and I thought that maybe I had forgotten where I had parked. Even though I knew in heart that it was pointless, I still walked around the neighborhood, searching in vain for the car that I knew was long gone. 

I imagine it's already on blocks somewhere on the West Side, being stripped for parts. And the thought makes me want to cry, but instead I'm keeping on a brave face. Budweiser helps too. Lots of it. 

I swear the shit I've been through with this car. Remember this? Or a year before then when someone jacked one of my wheels? Or the $500 I just sunk into it for new brakes. I'm ALMOST relieved, but not quite. The day was drawing near for me to turn it in (it's leased) and I was preparing myself for my first car-less summer in 10 or so years. But I wasn't ready yet! 

In a minor bit of cruel irony, the largest shard of glass left on the street is the "anti-theft" symbol from the passenger side window. Seeing that made my blood fucking boil. But now, at this point I'm just so exhausted dealing with the Police, the Insurance and the Finance people. And I know that the real fun is only about to begin. UGH.