"Stolen"

Oh hiya party people.  Guess what?  It's story time round here today. Which is the bestgood news I could ever give, because apparently y'all fools like my stories, which is fine by me, because I love telling a story.  (I hope you read that last sentence in a deep Southern drawl like an old woman talking about her stories).  I digress.  Y'all know by blogger BFFFFFFFL Joanna.  She is amazing and we love her around THYMWYA.  Well Friday was my little booboo's 29th birthday.  She's almost all grownsd up.  As she was planning her perfect Mad Men-esque 60's theme birthday party, she told me that her car had been stolen.  Happyeffinbirthday.  Here are the texts that we exchanged prior to her party (I have cleaned them up quite a bit for mixed company)

ME: DUDE!  Your car was stolen?  WTH! 

JOANNA: Yeah.  Major bummer but my car was super old at least.

ME: Hopefully no bums are using it as a sex room.  That would piss me off.

JOANNA:  Great!  If anyone has done anything weird in it, I don't want it back. 

Hey gurrrrl

Following are Joanna's words with my commentary in parenthetical bold...Because that's what I do, YO!

"It all started on Thursday night. After drinks with friends, I come home to find my car keys are missing. Luckily a roommate is home, so she lets me in and I assume (hope) I must have dropped them out of my purse at work. (we all have been there, friend) I borrow an extra key and don't think too much about it.

Friday night. I get home from a wonderful birthday dinner and leave to go pick up my boyfriend. I go down to my street and can't find my car. I quickly scan the blocks around my house, thinking I must have forgotten where I parked it. Panic slowly creeps in. I call my boyfriend and ask him if he remembers where I parked last. He says what I was hoping he wouldn't say--that I parked it right across the street--where there's a blank space. Oye (yiddish for I shat out a unicorn) . I keep looking, just in case. I finally concede that unless my car took itself for a drive, it is indeed stolen. My boyfriend comes over and we call the non-emergency number for the SFPD. Eventually two officers show up at my door. They ask for the year, make, and model of my car. I tell them other identifying characteristics, such as the broken side mirror and the Louisiana Brake tags, which they neglect to write down. The whole thing reminds me of that scene in the Big Lebowsi where he asks the cops if they have any leads yet on his stolen car, and the cop says, "I'll just check with the boys down at the crime lab. They've got us working in shifts" and then bursts into laughter (I wouldn't hold out for The Credence either).

Saturday morning, I post the following message on Facebook: "Car stolen from outside my house. Happy birthday to me." This, understandably, results in a barrage of "oh, that sucks," and "I can't believe this happened on your birthday" comments. I revel in the thought of how many people feel sorry for me right now and that I don't even really feel sorry for myself! I'm taking it all so well! I'm a pillar of strength!  (she is also a famewhore, which is why we get along so well)

Meanwhile I start to think about the lost key/stolen car connection. Even though it seems far-fetched that someone just happened to be walking by, found my keys, saw my car, and was willing to commit grand theft auto, I decide it's better to be safe than sorry. What if they saw me drop them and know where I live?! I call a locksmith to get our locks changed. Cost: $200 (we talked about this for a good 20 minutes on Saturday night.  We were all creeped out)

Fast forward again to Monday. I take the bus to work. I'm resolved to my fate, that of a carless city dweller who has to hump groceries up the hill and sign up for Zip cars 3 weeks in advance. (welcome to my life) Even friends say that losing my car, although inconvenient, is probably for the best since I'd get more insurance money for it than I could sell it for. I'm already researching used cars, thinking it might be high time for a sub-compact hatchback. A Honda fit, maybe. Or a Nissan Versa. (bahahahahahaha, you would totally look like a turtleturd) Whatever it is, I want it to be tiny, fuel efficient, and it will DEFINITELY have a club affixed to the steering wheel at all times. (1986 called they want their Club back)

And then, suddenly, the narrative changes.

I come in from lunch on Monday afternoon, and the receptionist at my office informs me that that Ali from the garage has been looking for me. He's worried because my car has been down there for 5 days. 

OMG OMG OMG. (BAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA)

Before I even have time to react, my co-worker Tony runs downstairs to the garage and posts the following picture on facebook with the caption: "Ummm...JoDo, I think you were looking for this? 

The first comment on Facebook says it all: "No Way. If this is true, it can never be lived down."

And so it goes.

What happens next is nothing short of 5 hours of hilarity. I call the police department to "take back" my stolen vehicle report, because if I just drive it out of the lot I have a good chance of being pulled over at gunpoint (yay!). They inform me that an officer will have to come out and verify that it is indeed my car that's been "found." So around 5pm, I get a call that there's an officer waiting, and I take him down to the garage to verify the car's existence. I ask if he's seen this kind of thing before, and he says, "Yes, all the time, but usually after people have been drinking." Grrreaaaat. Tony meanwhile is snapping incriminating photos and even has the nerve to ask the cop if this is the dumbest thing he's seen all week. His answer is "yes." (at least it was only Monday)

The guys in the garage are happy I'm alive, and even happier that my parking bill for 5 days comes to $112.50. I tell them that their math is wrong, since parking is $12.50 per day. Turns out it's actually $12.50 every 12 hours. FML.

So long story short, I got my car back, and the keys were "missing" because it's a valet garage and they take them from you when you park there. In other news, I need a brain scan! And some ginko biloba. (the good news was no hobos bumped uglies in your car.)

Jo!  Thank you so much for being such an awesome sport and letting me publish this.  This is the best story ever.  Honestly, there is not one person out there who will read there and sit and think to themselves that they absolutely cannot do this.  I happen to think that this is just a sign that you had the most kickass birthday EVAH!!!!

Love your guts.

Angie