Butter side down.

"'I have never had a slice of bread,
particularly large and wide,
that did not fall upon the floor,
and always on the buttered side.'
-Huron Reflector, 1841

One day this will be very funny.

I SURVIVED THE WORST DAY EVER- 7/3/08."


The above can be found on a certificate my sister made me for just freaking making it through today.

You know, I thought the worst part of my day would be getting up at 8 to go to the gym. Susie and I decided to make a new start of things and get set up/trained at the gym we joined in sisterly love and avoid in sisterly procrastination. I was the first one there, even though I was a few minutes late, so I ran and threw my bag into a locker.

Fast forward to after the weight lifting, when we decided to do cardio. I reached into my bag and couldn't find my iPod. Silly me, must have left it at home.

Susie left the gym, and there I was, still reading and ellipticizing or whatever the hell you call it. I finally grabbed my bag to leave and felt around for my keys. My keys. My keys... where were my keys?

Let's fast forward through the agony (God forbid I relive it today for the zillionth time) and just say that when I reached in, there were no keys. Hoping against hope, I ran out to the parking lot to check for my car, thinking maybe I had locked the keys inside. No car. Could this be like when I lost my car in the Staples Center parking lot for 1.5 hours? Maybe, but no, I knew exactly where I had parked. I had a lucky spot right up front. Lucky my ass.

I reported it to the front desk guy at the gym and he couldn't have cared less. When I told him it was "very important" he said he'd be right with me, and went on signing up a new member. So I made sure to mention in front of this "new member" the shit that was going down.

I filed the police report and called my dad. I told him what had happened and half expected him to zip over and get me. He is semi-retired, after all! He sent my sister. Which was fine and she helped me get organized and get home, all in a daze.

This is all before noon. People who sleep in know what they're doing. Nothing good happens before noon.

As I drove with my sister I realized the heaviness of my loss. In my car were zillions of things, including but not limited to my favorite (and only) 2 artsy yoga mats, a book of my favorite cds (including a mix I stayed up til 2am making), and my UCLA Law sweatshirt. Ok, that last one wasn't a "loss", but still.

Then it sunk in further. In the trunk was a bag of material to send to clients - including checks and contracts, and...

(drumroll please)

my passport.

Not only am I type A and was renewing it way ahead of time (it's not overdue til October), but I am an immigrant's dream as far as passport photo- even the border patrol guys give me a thrice over when I come back to my home country here! I could be anything, which means my lil passport has market value!

The rest of the day was spent, as you can imagine, agonizingly putting my life (read: wallet) back together. Going to the DMV for 2 hours, no seating. And waiting no less than 4 hours for the locksmith to show up, jumping every time I heard a noise.

Add to that the burn that I had just bought a cheap but cute black purse that I loved. This purse RIP was in the trunk, just waiting to be slung over my shoulder and marched into Macy's (my Macy's coupons were in my purse too).

Other contents of my hijacking:

*My new perfume was in it. Rosy, over-expensive l'occitane stuff.
*Hand cream from l'occitane. Perhaps this brand isn't meant to be.
*My favorite lipstick.
*My new fancy-schmancy inhaler. That's right, these people are SO going to hell (just ask Kirk). They robbed an asthmatic of her inhaler!
*My new lucky red wallet. Not lucky.

I realize these are just things, but somewhere out there, some bitch is being me (it's a bitch because SHE took my keys from the locker room; all those years of watching Murder She Wrote are coming together for me). And whoever she is is also calling my friends- I got a message from someone I haven't talked to in at least a year saying he was sorry he missed my call this afternoon. What, this afternoon when I was living like it was 1988 and giving people my home number to reach me?

The shittiest part of all of this isn't the car theft, it isn't even the fact that I came home to a flooding house (oh yes- the pipes 2 floors up broke and so my paint is bubbling up and water is dripping from my sockets. Right now I'm writing with the whirr of industrial-sized fans deafening me). In my delirium this is almost fascinating, as is how quickly the plumbers ripped up my carpet this afternoon.

The shittiest part isn't any of this, it's that everyone keeps teasing me that "that's what you get for going to the gym!". Har har.

And I can't help but think they're right.

So, with a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie crumbs (contents of this evening's care package from aforementioned angel of a sister) and new resolve, I say: "f the gym".


POSTSCRIPT: 7/11- they arrested a girl with my credit cards and id today, so hopefully this is the beginning of the end of all of this!