Here's how it went down: About 2:45, my buzzer started going off -- I wasn't expecting anyone, so I wasn't about to answer it, right? Besides, I kinda knew it was her, didn't want to deal, whatever. Well, after about 10, 15 minutes of that, she went around the back and started throwing rocks at my bedroom window. I still didn't want to answer. Then she called my name (which is how I knew it was her). Still didn't answer. So what does she do? She climbs my balcony, opens the screen door, goes through the house and out the front door with my Coach purse (looks similar to this, but mine was the hobo of a couple years ago), which contained the following:

-- My fake Louis Vuitton cherry blossom wallet that I got in NYC last time I was there, which had my license, debit card and ticket stubs from the last several years worth of concerts and events I've attended;
-- my cell phone, which I just got in November;
-- $50 Mother gave me toward my car payment;
-- my Palm Vx, encased in a Coach cover with not only my schedule but almost 600 names and contacts I use for business;
-- a Coach makeup bag I've had for years with all my essentials (Becca Turkish Rose blush; Estee Lauder Rose Quartz lipstick; lip glosses by Stila, Mark and Mary Kay; two lip brushes (one a gift from Tara); Calvin Klein nude lip pencil, Revlon lip gloss in Sangria; and a guitar pick Randy threw at me during a Wookie show); and of course
-- my spare set of house keys (attached to a key chain the one guy and I got at the Auto Show five years ago, so sentimental value)

Then I heard her get in a car with whoever and drive off.

So, why didn't I get up and confront her, you ask? Well, would YOU get up and confront someone who might be high on something, especially since she was with someone who might also be high on something? Then how about calling the cops BEFORE she made off with the loot -- you know, to get her off the property? Yeah, I'm kicking myself about that now, because I should've. What sucks even worse, I told the cop the truth that I didn't actually SEE her, but I heard her call my name; if I'd said I'd seen her do it, the case would've been stronger. (Not that the cop didn't believe me, but still.) Now, about all I can hope for is that the detective who handles the case can dust the side of the screen door for prints, because IF they get her, she'll deny, deny, deny. Oh, and guess who let her renter's insurance lapse last year!? Yeah.

I've already left a message for her parents letting them know what she did and that I WILL be pressing charges; assuming she doesn't erase it first, I know my uncle will believe me, but my aunt won't because she's in big-time denial over Crackhead's problem. I mean, I'm already the antiChrist to the rest of the family, so I guess what's one more hating me for trying to put her daughter in jail? In the meantime, I reported the debit card and cell phone stolen -- they hadn't used the debit card yet, but I do think Crackhead was on the phone when I tried to call it. I'm also going have to call the credit bureaus, because Crackhead? Has already used both her sisters' names for ID.

Believe it or not, there is a bright side to all this: a) I or the boys didn't get hurt, b) she didn't go into the can and gank all the jewelry on my ring holder, and c) she didn't see the bank envelope containing about $400 of my rent money sitting on the coffee table.

[UPDATE: Spoke with a detective this morning -- I have an appointment to talk to him Saturday at 6 p.m. The good news is, he said the fact that I heard her voice distinctly will likely be enough for the prosecutor to take the case; the fact that I know the prosecutor personally ought to help, too, although I honestly don't like doing that. No, seriously, I don't.]