02 November 2009

Reading: The Spider's Web by Peter Tremayne (Celtic mystery, lol)
Watching: Observe and Report (Seth Rogen, Ray Liotta)
Listening to: Jolene - Zac Brown Band

I've been posting this on my Plurk, Twitter, Facebook and Taco accounts:

If it involves seeing the inside of a police station, it officially IS the worst day of your life.

That it also happened in the middle of another typhoon was just a yummy, clammy addendum. The winds knocked down the poor palm trees they'd installed in the middle of the mall that was under construction next door to our office building. At around seven in the morning, after an entire day of internet problems that nearly drove me to beating up some random new guy at the office, I was already getting ready to go home and finish packing. When I looked out the windows and only devastation and no taxis, I had a feeling this day still wasn't going to go my way.

I always have underestimated Fate's sense of humor.

Intermission in the proceedings brought on by the power going out and the elevators giving out. We were all stuck on the tenth floor of a half-finished office building with the winds making Frighteners faces against our windows.

When I finally get home and finish taking my bookshelf apart and stuffing stray socks in any boxes that weren't yet taped shut, I receive a text message from the movers saying that they would have to postpone the move until the next day. I said fine, since I left an urgent campaign to someone else at work anyway. I was going out to check my email when I opened the door to the lady who picks up our rent and a uniform cop.

Apparently the pizza place downstairs got robbed during the night and they were asking everyone questions. I tried being helpful - no, I didn't see anyone suspicious inside the constantly padlocked building (duh); no, I didn't see a man passing by, "casing the joint" if you will; yes, I was at work while this whole thing you say took place; and no, I don't know anyone who might want to take an oven toaster and two fire extinguishers (which, it turns out, were what were stolen). I resisted the urge to tell them that if I were going to steal anything from this condemned dump anyway, I'd go straight for the high-tech freezers in the back and not even look at the power transformer (the other positively stupid and random thing that was stolen).

Cop: You'd need a power transformer for your appliances, don't you? Surely, you have a computer up there in your room.
Me: Um... the only appliance I have is an electric kettle. And I own a laptop. I'm actually kind of curious why the robbers didn't go for that instead.
Cop: Do you know why they would go for the oven, transformer and fire extinguishers specifically then?
Me: (growing sleepier by the minute as this was already nearly noon) I don't know... I personally would go for the freezers if I were... Maybe they wanted to cook something but were afraid of burning it?

Apparently it's bad to talk back to cops, because not five minutes after he let me go back to my room, they took us all down to the local police precinct.

Cop: So, we've determined that this couldn't have been done by someone who didn't have access to the building. This is definitely an inside job, which means we're looking at you three.

Really? Because we said we didn't see anyone particularly suspicious? We live in the semi-slums. Two weeks ago I saw a guy get stabbed with a kitchen knife while I was crossing the street; everyone looks suspicious!

Cop: (to the couple that lived opposite me) I've been told you missed paying the rent this month?
Neighbor Lady: Uh... we've only been here three months.

I kept myself from laughing.

Neighbor's Husband: Sir, we're not crooks. We both have jobs. We're not rich or anything, but we all here are straight.

Besides, if they really didn't have money to pay the rent, they could just move out in the middle of the night and we would all be none the wiser. But I didn't say that.

Cop: (turning to me) And you? What do you have to say for yourself?
Me: (confused) You want me to prove my innocence?
Cop: You three are our prime suspects right now, Miss.
Me: Well, I was at work. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with a fire extinguisher even if I'd stolen it. And I... don't cook.
Neighbor Lady: Please, Sir, we're not well off, but I can buy anything I want or need. We surely don't need to steal just to earn money.
Me: (chiming in) Yeah, what she said.

They kept us waiting anxiously for a couple more hours after that. My neighbor's husband was called back in at one time. I tried to stay awake and not look guilty by keeping my peepers on the TV showing a match between Floyd Mayweather and a poor Argentinian who had no chance from the start. In between rounds I kept dozing off thinking if he really wanted to be taken seriously again, he's stop dancing around Pacquiao and put his coward ass in the ring with him as soon as possible.

One of the women that worked at the stall next to the pizza place woke me after some time. I found that they'd brought the Scene of the Crime guys in. They were taking fingerprints. I wanted to laugh. I asked the lady if we could go yet. She said they were still going to take us to Campo Crame to take a lie detector test. This time I really laughed. I stopped myself when half a dozen cop heads turned to look at me.

I walked over to the front desk where they were taking my neighbor's husband's fingerprints.

"Excuse me, Sir. Can I just go ahead?" I asked, trying to keep my eyes wide open and tear-free.

The cop was interrupted by the owner of the pizza place. "You can let her go, Sir. I don't for a second think it's her anyway, plus she still has to go to work later tonight and she hasn't had any sleep yet," she said.

I didn't bother to correct her. No way was I going all the way to Campo Crame in the middle of a typhoon even though I'd just decided that a lie detector test was one thing I did want to go through even just once in my life. The policeman caved and let us all go provided we left our forwarding addresses and numbers with them.

My neighbors and I walked back to our place, guffawing in the rain. My neighbor's husband said no way was he going in jail for something so embarrassing as stealing an oven toaster. I told him if he was sure that they were going to take him in, he better kill someone before going to jail or he'd never live it down. His wife said, oh yes, she stole the stuff - it's always been her lifelong dream to sell toasted pizzas in the street. We had a beer when we got home, now that we had a ridiculous shared experience. I left the couple downstairs and went back to my room after a while, when I found a text message waiting for me.

Seriously?: Hi, ma'am. This is Sgt. Avila, the investigator for the case. Sorry to have bothered you today.

I was thinking maybe they were texting all of us to confirm the contact information we left them.

Me: (as I know how to be civil as well) It's no problem at all. We're also afraid that someone might come back to rob us so thank you for making this a priority.
Seriously?: When are you moving out?

As it still was a valid question, I tried to swallow the bile rising in my throat, but kept it terse.

Me: Tomorrow.
Seriously?: Is anyone helping you?
Me: Yes, I've hired some movers. Also a friend is coming to help.
Seriously?: Do you already have a vehicle to move your things in?
Me: (increasingly getting anxious) Yes, I have rented a truck.
Seriously?: I have one you can use.
Me: : (inwardly going EWWWWWWW!!!) That's fine, but I've got everything covered. Thanks, anyway.
Seriously?: When are you moving? And how much is your rent?

I stopped replying out of courtesy right there. I had weird images of the creepy cop making his rounds in the neighborhood and looking up at my room now. I gagged. I've been living in that god-forsaken street for two months now and have leveled-up more in those two months than in all of my other twenty-three years, but now it was time to get a gun. Sad thing was there was a cute cop in that station watching the boxing match with us, but I get the sleazy, middle-aged investigator instead. What did I expect from typhoon season anyway? Better to just get that gun.

Is That Your Gun Or Are You Just Happy To See Me | 2 Comments

22 January 2009

Reading: Watership Down by Richard Adams
Watching: The Middleman (Ah, Pillow Lips.)
Listening to: Attila Marcel - Ben Charest

This is why we should never stop believing in the hotness that is Jean Claude Van Damme. <3

I know some of my friends (shock) have told me to stop just posting trailers and actually talk about something, and I... will get to it soon. Eheh.

I want to go DVD hunting now. | 6 Comments