I lost count. I think I've been robbed six times in the past three years. All my car. Most of them in my own parking space, right under my third-story balcony, in the alley behind my apt.

That's where it happened this time. It sat there all day, with me oblivious. I came out at 5:30 p.m. Thursday all bubbly about some news I'd just gotten and headed to the gym. I had actually called my mom to share the news, was talking to her on my cell phone as I swung the alley door open, and spotted the triangle window. "Shit, not again."

"What?"

"My car. Robbed again."

"You're in your car?"

"No, I just went out there. My window's busted. Somebody broke in."

"Where!"

"My building."

"I don't understand, where are you?"

My mom struggles with the concept of mobile phones being mobile. A minor annoyance, I got off the phone.

So that's what it looked like up there. Almost. I added the masking tape, to keep the battery alive. That's where the Smiths reference comes in.

The bastards didn't even bother to slam the door shut, so the dome light stayed on all night and day and when I found it, the battery was drained. How inconsiderate!

They were dicks all around this time. Most of their predecessors managed to get the radio out without ripping a giant hole in my dash and leaving the support cage hanging. This time I'll actually have to go through the body shop and have it repaired. I'll feel terrible putting money into this old beater even though it's insurance money--(the $200 deductible will be met with the window. I know this drill.)

It's still money. They also punched another hole in the dash and tore it loose on the far edge by the door as well, on the left side of the steering wheel. (Look closely at that photo and you can see it hanging slightly. It looks much tackier in person.)

These were the worst thieves I've had. And confusing. All I saw was a bunch of wires hanging out, and thought they might have short-circuited it somehow trying to hot wire it. Or stole my battery? My 18-year-old engine?

That's the eye-rolling part. I'm still driving this '91 Stanza, that I bought in '91, so live cheaply, because I was already planning my escape from corp life to be a writer, and planning to be poor. Of all the freaking cars to hit in my alley. Last time, the insurance lady on the phone said they sometimes hit older cars because they're unlikely to have alarms, and the locks are more primitive.

Half of that might apply. They didn't bother with any locks. I wish they had. The window is $200 to replace, the radio they grabbed is only $100 brand new. (Meaning maybe $30 used, and what, $10 used and stolen? They did $200 damage to my window and probably $400 to my dashboard to get ten dollars? Ugh. I would have given them the ten bucks.)

They also got about $15 emergency cash I keep in the cup-holder compartment, though they couldn't see that until they got the lid off. They rifled threw everything in there, and the glove box--threw it all over the floor and seat as shown. It's still like that. I have not had the will to pick it up yet.

They also got some change out of my cupholder--out of sight until they opened the lid--and my grocery store loyalty card, which might have looked like a credit card, but haven't they done this before? (And will I get bonus points for the purchases they make with it?)

I'm slightly amused by what they did not take:

- Half the parking-meter change in my cupholder. It looks like they grabbed a handful, dropped a nickel of it on the ground and left the rest, including a dozen quarters in plain sight.

- Two and one half viagra pills, also in plain sight, lying on top of the change.

- My car registration.

- Two mid-price condoms that they give out free at the STD-testing clinic.

- A little baggy with a substance which was not, but would likely be mistaken for some drugs.

- The six-pack of early California black olives I had left from Sam's Club the night before (too heavy to carry everything in one trip).

- Several two-liter jugs of Diet Sprite, also left from the grocery store run.

- Any of the Obama signs or literature still in my trunk.

- The jug of cat litter for traction in a snowstorm.

- A couple beat up windshield scrapers.

- My gay bathhouse membership card--expired, but they don't always check. (Which the robbers might not know, but I doubt they checked the expiration date.)

- Most of the business cards and other bullshit plastic cards.

- My friend's ugly olive green shirt wadded up in my trunk which I keep forgetting to return.

- The jumper cables I would need to recharge the battery they drained. So they were thoughtful thieves after all.

A neighbor from the next building who I'd never laid eyes on was nice enough to give me a jump once she got over the initial jolt of me approaching her, and figured out I was not a panhandler. I was not expecting it to work, but trying to rule out a dead battery, as I had not figured it out yet. She asked about a door ajar and that's when I realize, oh yeah, it was.

It started right up, but then I noticed a second light on: a tiny little bulb in the glove compartment. They had busted the latch right off, so the damn face hung open, keeping the light on. That was weird. I know I've never replaced that bulb. It's been operating for 18 years? Could that thing drain my battery? Probably not, but I'm a moron on this shit, and didn't want to take the chance. I work from home, too, so I can go days without driving.

I tried to yank it out, but could not make it budge. I pulled eight different ways, but couldn't really see how it was secured in there. It wasn't sufficiently illuminating enough to see its own base. I decided I'd never really used the damn thing, so I was just going to get rid of it. I gave it a good whack with the end of the jumper cables, but it withstood the blow. That surprised me. If I bump my desk lamp with my elbow walking by, the thing goes out.

I smacked it again. Nothing. I beat the shit out of the thing, and it was indestructible. I finally pounded it through the little gap for its wiring--a fraction of its width, but it broke through the hard plastic housing unfettered and continuing to shine, dimly as ever. Hardly any light even came through the little hole now, but I knew it was still working away in there, drawing on my poor battery.

So I drove around the block to charge the battery, cut the engine and ran upstairs for the duct tape. I couldn't find it, and settled on masking. Turns out two strips of thick masking tape are not strong enough to hold a glove compartment face, but three are.

I decided I liked the whole thing looking even trashier than a Sarah Palin in-law.

And I'm going to investigate buying stock in that light-bulb company. Perhaps they've gone bankrupt for failing to employ planned obsolescence. 

I'm still wondering whether the Palin tape is working. They broke the clasp, so is shutting the box actually turning off the light? I felt around and listened closely as I open and shut it, and can't see, hear or feel anything moving to inform the hardy light that the door is shut and it can give it a rest. It may still be on in there. The car started last night. I'll let you know if it does today.