Holy @$#%!!!!

So the worst possible thing has happened. Okay, maybe it's not the absolute worst. But it's shitty. Oh hell, is it ever shitty. You know that wonderful hammock that my wife 'n kids gave me for Father's Day?

Stolen.

Yeah, that's right. Stolen. Some heartless, dickless fuck walked onto my property in the middle of the night Wednesday (6/27), cut the rope, and walked off with it. Naturally we have no money to replace it right now, but even if we did, it wouldn't be the same. That hammock meant a great deal to me... and poof, it's gone.

I've only had things stolen from me twice before. Back in the 7th grade, my locker partner Brian Reymore stole my Creepshow comic. He swore he didn't do it, but he magically had his own copy a few days later. Then, in college, I had a shoebox fulls of tapes stolen out of my VW bug. That's it. I guess I've been lucky in the theft department, all things considered. Maybe I was overdue. But... aw, fuck. This sucks. I got to use it a total of ONE time (on Father's Day, see previous blog entry). I've been depressed ever since.