Open Letter to the Person Who Broke Into My Car.

Dear Would-be-Car Burglar,

I'm sorry you didn't find whatever it was you were looking for this morning when you went into my parking garage and proceeded to break into my car and dump everything out all over the place. I'm assuming the contents of my car weren't quite what you wanted, because you declined to take any of the following items:

- orange yoga mat
- Starbucks napkins and Jack in the Box straws
- left-handed baseball glove
- tire pressure gauge
- a note my grandpa wrote to me
- 2 parking access cards
- 9 shiny parking tokens
- parking pass (have you ever tried to park in Santa Monica?! or Pepperdine? All this stuff is like gold. Clearly, you're an idiot.)
- various sets of printed directions and lists
- blue beach blanket
- 8 years worth of mix CD's (including Lauryn Hill, Shakira, Paul Simon, and some embarrassing collections from my electronica phase in highschool) I would've given you some of these if you'd asked.
- my registration (I thought you would've taken this, but then I realized it wouldn't do you much good, unless you also planned to steal my hoopty. Alas, you are a petty car burglar not a grand theft auto wizard.)
- [clean] work out clothes
- two of my paintings (one watercolor, one oil. You didn't want to hang those up in your Den of Thieves? I'm insulted.)
- two pairs of black high heels (probably not your size)
- file folder containing records of my car's repairs (this is probably what deterred you from stealing my car.)
 - my stereo

I would actually sincerely like to thank you for not stealing the last item, even though it appears you may have tried. Honestly, this would've bummed me out more than anything else. I need that stereo. And the tape deck adapter.

Clearly, you must be very disappointed with the lack of gold bullion, crack cocaine, and Rolex watches in my car, but really, what did you expect? You broke into a 2003 Honda Civic, for pete's sake!!! For future reference, I keep all the good stuff in my Bentley, which is in the 6-car garage at my Malibu Estate. You're welcome.   


Part of me also wants to thank you for making me take stock of how rich I am in intangibles and things that I don't keep in my car. Things like, friends and family, love, happiness, and sense of humor.

It might appear from this letter that I am very unfazed by this whole thing where you violated my personal space and touched all of my stuff (even though you didn't take anything), but you would be mistaken to think that. Let me be clear: I am pissed. But guess what? There are surveillance cameras in the parking garage. Idiot. I'm mostly annoyed because I love my neighborhood because it's quirky and fun, but it's people like you who give Venice a bad name and screw it up. You're the reason my mother wants me to move the suburbs. You scare nice families and their kids away.

Basically, you suck and I'm glad I didn't have anything worthwhile in my car for you to steal. You can't get me down.

Sincerely,

The girl you tried (and failed) to rob.

P.S. I noticed that you did steal my last piece of gum and leave the wrapper. Rude. You also left my interior lights on, Jerk.