A tale of tragedy

I'm the worst blogger ever.


But last night, guyz, I just want to tell you about last night.

Last night was my esteemed colleague Johanna's birthday. She just turned the ripe old age of 28.

It was pretty sweet. Would you like to know why?

It was the night that somebody stole my fucking wallet out of my back pocket of my jeans. While I wore them. SERIOUSLY. HOW THE HELL?? I wasn't drinking, friends. I wasn't drunk. And I am a pretty aware guy. And the jeans were kinda tight due to an embarassing issue with my building's dryer-- I discovered this when I put them on last night but having no other jeans handy (that were clean) I just sucked it up and squeeeezed my way into them. I am bewildered, perplexed, at a LOSS as to how somebody lifted my wallet. Like, how the hell could they get it out? I could barely pull it out at the bar. I know for a fact it went back IN the pocket-- it was so tight I had to reach back with both hands to shove it on in there.

Lame+

My unlimited metrocard was in there too. $81 down the drain. Thank God for Johanna demanding a birthday shot from me, because when i went to pay, suddenly I discovered the wallet was missing. The culprit maybe only had like an hour TOPS ahead of me so I made like Johnny on the Spot and called the credit card companies to cancel. By sheer dumb luck I had left my Chase debit at home. So that's good, I guess. Grezi lent me a few bucks so I could get the train back home.

What a lame night. For me. Not Johanna. Her birthday was oodles of awesome. Congrats, Johanna. You do not suck, although getting my wallet stolen on your birthday does. But that's not your fault.