Chinchillas Ruin Everything. Also, Marshmallows

I've got to be honest, I stopped myself from doing something terrible - co-opting a Wu-Tang Clan song and replacing the lyrics with my own from the events of last weekend. 

And then I remembered all those dumbass Christian, Uber Parenting or Workplace Rap videos from Tosh or The Soup that are awful. 

Let's not appropriate things from the hip-hop community as much as possible.

I mean, sure, I had the hook as you can see above. Chinchillas Ruin Everything. Also, Marshmallows. What does it mean? Well, on Friday a woman claimed she went to the bathroom came back and someone stole her $1,600 Chinchilla coat. Someone else came and said she was offering a $400 reward the return of said coat.

Let's retrace her steps here. 

A woman. A grown-ass woman. She leaves her supposed $1,600 coat alone, in a crowded bar.

She then proceeds to walk to the bathroom, leaving all of her personal belongings unattended.

When she returns five or 1 minutes later, the coat is gone.

And she's demanding the cops get involved.

One big problem here. The coat loses its value dramatically overt he next hour. What was once $1,600 eventually becomes $200. That reward? Nonexistent. Did the cops get involved? Kinda.

A visiting wedding party included several cops from neighboring states. One of which bought this lady's story (they were both mid-40s, and he was trying hard) hook, line, and sinker. This cop gets on the line with our city's cops to lay down how important this depreciating coat is to the sanctity of law.

"This is not a Monday problem. This is a 12 MINUTES AGO PROBLEM!"

The woman and the Kindergarten Cop did not leave together. The coat seems like it got the better end of the deal.

POP POP POP POP POP

Three fell to the ground. Two hit their targets.

It's what you fear sometimes, living and working in the city.

A drive by.

And it's what I fear, all the time. Marshmallows.

I hate marshmallows. One traumatic experience as a child left me perpetually disgusted by the fluff stuff. Let's just say a full bag was eaten sometime in the 95-degree summer and a bathroom was never the same again.

And since then I have not ingested a single marshmallow. Now, we're not talking hot chocolate or Lucky Charms mallows. These are the squishy white ghouls that come in a bag the size of a pillowcase.

And then they were flying in my general direction on a Friday night.

Evil, evil people in this world.

Saturday ID No. 1 (374): The Only Tenn I See

Don't come to the bar with a person from another country if your ID is fake. And if you feel the need to do so after that, under no circumstances are you to come to the bar with a person from Illinois. That's a lock to get screened heavier than anyone else. What's in a Spanish ID? Color and vibrancy. Not going to lie, their fun to see. 

What's wrong with Illinois IDs? The easiest to fake. Customs probably stops a million of them a decade. And Tennessee. What's wrong with Tennessee? Most everything the kid had. From the card stock to the ear shadows to the fact that he looked 16 not 23 all but cooked his goose.

Saturday ID No. 2 (375): The Laws of Subtraction

Not everyone born this year was born on the first day of this year, so subtracting 2018 from 1994 isn't always going to give you 24. 

"Well, I turn 24 soon."

"And how soon is that?"

"A few weeks?"

26 Weeks.

Saturday ID No. 3 (376): Fool Me Twice, Won't Get Fooled Again

The first girl, yeah she was bad. Nothing worked. After the scam, she came up and admitted as much. Said her friend gave her the ID. Cool. Case closed.

Then the friend shows up demanding the ID. Authority asks Girl, Interrupted to prove it.

She stares blankly into space.

Walks over to me. Holds hand out. 

And I have my doubts.

Let's tickle those keys for a second. The ID belongs to a 25-year old woman from the middle of the state. The rest of her entourage is already inside the bar, the oldest of which is 23. Not uncommon. But we've already proven the youngest is under 21. Interesting.

I ask Girl 2 for a proof of identity. At this point, anything will literally work. A credit card, debit card, insurance card, student ID, you name it. 

Except, she couldn't. Because she, too, wasn't the girl on the iD.

Girl 2 opened her wallet and said all she had was Eastern European currency. She is a graduate student overseas and that's all she has. No student ID or badge, or passport, perhaps?

Uh-huh. Apparently, they don't give you student IDs in this country.

I need to go back and tell you why I didn't give her ID back immediately. Her eyes.

They were bright and jubilant. Green, possibly Hazel. But in no ways were they brown. She was also too tall, but she had an answer, then a strange denial, for that.

"Most women stop growing long before they turn 18."

"That picture was taken when I was 21," she said in disgust."

"OK, but ... you didn't grow two inches after you were 21?"

"Yeah, I know that. I study biology and anatomy."

I feel like it was over at that point, but a card would still be nice.

What cards did she have? Her mom's credit cards.

"I'm a broke college student living overseas."

Her dad's insurance card.

"I'm under 26."

Her vertical ID.

"I don't have one of those."

"Yes, you do. I can see it right there."

(Pulls all cards out of wallet but slips one inside her coat)

"This is all that I have. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?"

The Truth. Which, clearly she can't handle.