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Getting my home robbed is what I imagine having one robbed of their virginity is like. I say ‘imagine’ because I lost mine in a freak horse-back riding incident in Mexico a few years ago. Banditos por todas partes. Yours may have gone to the highest bidder, but I'm not here to let your business savvy overshadow my attempt at mediocre metaphorical-laced literature.

I mean, there are just some things you don’t steal from a man. Like his dog. Or a new circular saw. Hell, take his girlfriend. Even lo-jack his matched luggage set. But his semi-big screen TV? Now you’re just trying to hurt me.

I think our cat is taking this whole thing in stride. I’m sure he was scared. But my coping mechanism consists of more than just frolicking in a pile of clothes, having a snack, taking a crap, licking myself smooth, and napping the rest of the afternoon. I’m a man. Versatile. Complex. Like the new King’s Castle Siege by Lego.

So, I made tacos.

I’ll be damned if the world isn’t a better place today.

‘Cept I still ain’t got no television set.