Stolen Cameras and Pin Up Pictures

The past several weeks have been like a figurative roller coaster ride for me.  Filled with ups and downs, tears and laughter, then throw in a few free-falling “oh shit” moments just to keep it exciting.  It would take a novel to tell all that’s taken place, and since I’m too lazy to write one, and you’re too lazy to read one, I’ll just tell you how they began. 

 

 

A few weeks ago when leaving the house for work, I entered my (unlocked) car and found that someone had been in it.  My glove box and center console where open and documents that had been in them were in disarray on the floorboard.  Nothing was broken, and at first I didn’t think there had been anything in it of value to steal.  That is until about 2 days later.

 

 

I have a very nice camera that gets invited to all sorts of fun events, to which I’m forced to tag along.  I love taking pictures and capturing moments in people’s lives preserving the memory forever.  It’s a passion of mine.  When preparing for a community event which I was working, my heart hit my asshole as I remembered the last time I’d had my camera and didn’t remember bringing it in the house.  That had been the night BEFORE I’d found my car riffled through.  My camera set up alone is worth several thousand dollars, which should be reason enough for my heart and asshole to console each other, but it gets worse…WAY worse.

 

 

A few days prior, kids were with their dad and my man-friend and I were having a couple drinks, being a little frisky.  It was late in the evening, night was black, there was a cool breeze blowing and since my back yard is secluded, we went outside.  I was wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a beer that was better clothed than I in a red Budweiser coozie.  We were talking about an event I’d photographed, and I was showing him pictures on my camera.  Being playful, he takes the camera and snaps a few very risqué shots of me sitting on a chair, in nothing but my thong panties, with my feet propped up on the table and the beer bottle in my hand.

Sitting in one of these chairs with my feet propped up on this table,

I felt a sort of sickness when I realized, a) my camera…probably my most valued possession had been stolen, and b) that there were almost naked pictures in the camera that were now in the possession of some strange person I could not identify.  When imagining my mortification, keep in mind that I live in a rather rural community where if don’t know someone, you know their mother, brother, son or cousin…if not all of them.

 

 

After the waves of panic released me, I called man-friend and told him.  I think his heart and asshole had a quick consoling session as well, before HE called and reported the camera stolen.  I didn’t have the serial numbers off hand, and needed to find them.  A couple days later, I get a call from the investigator man-friend had spoken to.  I’ve known this investigator for years both socially and professionally.  He asks me if I’ve yet come in and file an official report on the camera.  I told him I’d not gotten the serial number yet, so he takes some basic information asking me make and model, etc.  After answering his questions, I tell him I’ll get him the serial number later that day, to which he kinda clears his throat, and says, “Well…um…I really don’t need it now.  Can you come up here?”

 

 

I felt the blood leave my face and my mouth went dry as I realized that my camera, with me in all my glory, was now in the hands of my local rural police department.  I had mixed emotions, in that I was super happy that I’d get my camera back, less happy about having the local law enforcement know what I looked like in a pair of panties.  I took a deep breath, put on my big girl panties, and said “Oh lord.” He kinda chuckles saying only, “Yep.”  After asking how much ribbing I was in for he assured me that he’d “try” and be professional. 

 

 

I had a 20 minute ride from work to the police station, and about half way there I realized it is what it is, and just busted up laughing.  No amount of stress or embarrassment was going to undo or change anything, and as I thought about going into the PD I just laughed thinking only I could get myself into these predicaments.   

That's about what I looked like as I'm driving down the road ALONE,
people looking at me like I was retarded or something

I arrived at the PD and asked to see my friendly investigator and was immediately told to go on back.  I’d hoped I’d find him in his tiny private office where he usually hid, but was instead directed to the conference room where he and four other officers were sitting around the table with a pile of electronic equipment.  I had to temporarily tighten my big girl britches before walking in. 

When I walked in, I couldn’t help but get a little smirk as he looked at me.  He quickly looked away and threw his hand up between us in a mocking gesture, to which I retorted, “Don’t go acting all shy now, at least I have clothes on this time!”  The whole room just burst out laughing, and the initial tension was gone.

 

 

I sat around the table with the investigators and was filled in on the bust and what had been recovered, etc.  Then I was asked to identify my camera and check the contents of the case, etc.  I continued to laugh and cut up with them, picking on myself before they could, which prompted another investigator to tell the story of how my camera was identified as mine.  I guess he, someone I don’t know, was looking through the pictures on my card to see if he recognized anyone.  When he got to the risqué ones, he said “Whoa!” which prompted my friendly to look over at the viewing window.  He exclaimed, “Wait! Go back! Oh my God, I know her!”  His fellow officers instantly wanted to know HOW he knew me, and how WELL he knew me.  His answer, “We’ve drank a few beers together.” BEEP, wrong answer!  Did I mention that I had a beer in my hand in these pictures?  They immediately start teasing him about taking the pictures himself.  So we spend a few minutes with them quizzing me about what kinda beer I was drinking under that coozie to see if it was my friendly brand (it wasn’t). 

 

 

Just because I didn’t want to experience all the ribbing myself, I had my friendly call and raz man-friend.  He teased him about finding some almost pornographic photos on a camera and wanted to know if he knows anything about them.  After first denying, man-friend finally realizes that there’s no point, and tells the friendly that he was worried about the possibility of my camera getting stolen and took those pictures for identification purposes only.  We all got a good laugh, but for some reason, man friend refused to come up to the PD.  Go figure!

 

 

The investigator who’d originally been looking through the pics looks at me shaking his head and says, 100 people could come walking through that door with this same situation, and I don’t think any of them would handle this as great as you are; to which I quickly retorted, “Oh believe me, if I thought coming in here in raging bitch mode would have put my clothes on in those pictures, I’d have been a bitch on wheels!” 

We were wrapping it up and I was telling them how happy I was that they’d recovered my camera, even at the expense of my own indecent exposure, when my friendly says, “You owe me a beer.” To which his fellow investigator, without missing a beat replies, “I wanna know how the hell SHE owes YOU a beer after you saw HER naked!?” RIGHT!!!  I told him he owed me a case at least! We all bust out laughing and I got up to leave.  As I was walking toward the door, I turned back to the table of officers and said, “This is normally the point where I’d say something witty like ‘glad you got to see me’, but you’ll understand that in this situation…I’m not so much.”  They all just shook their heads laughing as I left the PD.

 

 

After work that evening, I had to go to Wally World for a few items, and who to my continued embarrassment is walking around Walmart?  You guessed it…my friendly AND his wife.  So I’m hoping not to have a continuation of the day’s earlier conversations, and it looked like I was almost in the clear, until I turned around and there he stood, with his wife out of sight, looking directly at me raising his hands as if holding a camera and mocked taking a picture.  “Has anyone told you you’re an asshole today?”  That was the best I could do before breaking out into semi-embarrassed laughter.  We chatted for a few minutes and then went our separate ways.

I know you’re thinking, how could I possibly have anything else to add to this story?  That would be because you don’t know my friends.  Later that night, man-friend and I meet some friends for karaoke.  I’m telling them about the events of my day while I wait to be called to the microphone.  We’re all laughing at my expense.  A little bit after telling them of my humbling day, I get summoned to the microphone for my turn: “Next up, is the Police Pin-Up Queen!”  Yeah, my friends can be real asshats, but you gotta love ‘em! 

 

 

That was just the start of the novel that has been my last few weeks.  Oh yeah, and I’ve now got a new nickname…PPQ.