Well, last night it finally happened: we were robbed.

I'm still so pissed off about it that it's difficult to blog. Gnnnaaagh. Who does that? Who looks at someone else's hard-earned assets and decides that they deserve it far more. We don't have much, you son of a bitch! What's the matter with you?!

The story: I pulled up to our garage last night to find it wide open and our neighbor washing his truck outside it. I knew that Carey was working a late night, so this was disconcerting. The neighbor moved his truck graciously and I asked him, "why is my garage door open?"

"I don't know. It was like that when I came out here. I assumed your wife was getting something out of it and hadn't closed it yet."

"Have you seen her?"

"No. She's not home?"

I shrugged nervously and looked in the garage. Everything seemed in order... except for Carey's new bike. The one we bought for her birthday several months ago? The one that's only been ridden twice? The one that we scrimped to purchase, even when our bank account was dismally low? Well, the bike was gone.

I went into the apartment and, sure enough, no Carey. I called her cell.

"Hello?"

"Care, where are you?"

"I'm on my way home. What's wrong?"

"Why was the garage door open?"

"..."

"Carey."

"Oh, God. What do you mean?"

"I got home about a minute ago and the garage door was wide open. Did you leave it up?"

"No, I... well, I don't know. I was in a hurry this morning. I ran back in for my purse... So, maybe... is anything missing?"

"Your bike is gone."

"OH NO. It's gone?! It's STOLEN?!"

"Where are you? When are you going to be home?"

"I'm five minutes away. Oh, God."

"I'll talk to you when you get here."

She got home and it all came out. She was running late and had neglected to close the garage door. Some clown had wandered in after she'd left, broad daylight, and swiped the bike (possibly some other stuff as well, but we're not sure yet). Hundreds of dollars gone in a blink.

So, we panicked a bit. We tried to find people around our building who might have seen anything go down, but no luck. (We even rang Snake Guy's doorbell. Desperate, I tell you.) I had a hair appointment at Atlantic Studios (which was an adventure in its own right, let me tell you), so I had to go, but Carey called the police. Unfortunately, the police told her there's nothing they can do about stolen bikes, but she was welcome to give them a statement.

And that's it. I'm very, very annoyed. I don't really blame Carey. Mistakes happen. I've certainly done my share of blunders. I blame the bastards who stole our stuff, though, let me just tell you. In the end, I suppose it's a good security lesson about Long Beach. Nothing goes unlocked ever again.

Ever again.

Pricks.

...

The hair salon was a remarkable experience. First of all, I've never been to a "salon" before. It's all too fancy and... okay, yeah, I'll say it: it's all too fruity for me. Nonetheless, Carey advised that, if I'm going to have long hair, it needs to have a "style" and BestClips simply doesn't have the talent to make it work. The days of the $8 haircut are long gone if I'm going to have free-flowing locks.

So, I sat down and my "stylist" came over. Her name is Blu. (Short for, believe it or not, SilveryBlu. Yes, it is the name her parents gave her and, yes, they were hippies. No middle name, just SilveryBlu. After all, who needs a middle name when you've already got a masterpiece like that to start things off?)

She asked what kind of cut I was looking for and I told her that I really didn't know and, sorry, I'm a bit distracted because we were just robbed. She was sympathetic and asked if a glass of wine would calm my nerves. I declined, but, yow... wine in a hair-cutting place? I guess this really isn't BestClips.

In the end, I told her that I'm still trying to decide whether long hair works for me and I'd be open to suggestions. She had a few and went to work. Nice girl, this Blu, and she seemed to know what she was doing. She was very forgiving about my main hair priority: as little effort as I can get away with in the morning.

When she finished, it... well, I'll admit it: I didn't see much difference, which was a surprise because there was loads of my hair on the ground all around me. It was obvious that regular joes that know little to nil about hair styles were a rarity at Atlantic Studios. But, I was never really made to feel bad about it. Instead, I felt like family. Cheesy, yeah, but it's the truth.

Upon arriving back home, Carey was cheered from her bicycle woes slightly by the sight of my newly-salonned pate. "It just looks so good... so styled!" Well, thanks, I guess. I'm glad SOMEbody sees it.

Interesting little outing, though. Actually, kind of nice to have someone do your hair without it being like an assembly-line-haircut-in-a-can experience. And, I'll admit it: I did enjoy getting to know Blu.

Jeez. Maybe I'll go back.

...

Finally, a gi-gundous JeremyBear.com THANK YOU to my very favorite Chinaman in the world, Mr. Jerry Liu. Jerry was kind enough to send me the appropriate bits of .asp code for my homepage and scripts page. It's true: no one need fear the Suggest-A-Script form any more... it works like a charm. Give it a try! Send me a script. (If you're in doubt about whether or not an old script suggestion ever got to me... I hate to say this, but those doubts may well be grounded. I'm sorry. The form used to break all the time. But, it's all better now. So, please! Send and/or re-send!)