Thanks for Giving

Last Saturday night, I headed to a downtown bar with some buddies. We listened to some live music, solved the world's problems over drinks and even found time to leer suggestively at some attractive young women, who naturally ignored us. Our goals met, we returned triumphantly to my friend's car, where we found one of his windows smashed in and a bunch of our stuff stolen. This killed our jolly mood quicker than a bucket of ice into the underpants.

The owner of the car got it the worst, losing his car stereo and his discman, as well as the shattered window, which isn't the best thing to have in rainy Vancouver. I only lost a jacket, but since it was one of only two warm jackets I had in this country, I'm pretty annoyed, on a rational, logistical level. Since I really liked wearing the jacket, I'm also emotionally annoyed. It was thick and warm, and had four outer pockets, two of which were zippable. It wasn't waterproof, but it was heartily water-resistant, and since I bought it at a dodgy market stall in Camden Town, it didn't have wanky brand names stencilled all over it in inch-high letters. It even had a cool inside pocket down by the hip, where I could put... ok, I'll stop now. I miss my bloody jacket.

The best angle we found on the whole crappy event was that we'd just celebrated the holiday of Thanksgiving by giving to charity, albeit forcibly. Hopefully the stuff we lost will help someone get back on their feet, not just get someone off their head for a few hours. And if my jacket is being worn by a crusty, dirty, flea-infested junkie with oozing sores and poor bladder control... you can keep it.