"The mark of an immature man is that he would die knobly for a cause. The mark of a mature man is that he would live humbly for one" - Catcher in the Rye -WARNING WRITER SPELLING CHALLENGED! But Sometimes you have to say "what the fuck!"

Friday, August 13, 2004

Confessions of Crazy Ass Teenage Kleptomaniacs

My girl, she's one too.
She'll go and get her a skirt.
Stick it under her shirt.
She grabbed a razor for me.
And she did it just like that.
When she wants something,
She don't want to pay for it.

She walk right through the door.
Walk right through the door.
Hey all right! If I get by, it's mine.
Mine all mine!


Up your Shirt or Down your Pants!
We mainly used to go to Bag and Save and steal cigarette packs up inside our coat sleeves. How else were we going to feed our addiction? I wasn’t the best at stealing, but I enjoyed the rush all the same. You enter the store in two’s, one keeps an eye out and acts as decoy, while the other takes the goods and hides them up their shirt, down their pants, or wherever. Then you buy something cheap and walk out the door. Ah yes….stolen contraband.

A Neurotic Klepto Wannabe
Being raised strict Lutheran, I feared the wrath of Jesus, and was often too paranoid to do real thieving. My mother further traumatized me as a young child. I will never forget stealing a piece of gum from Safeway, when I must have been 3 or 4. My Carol Burnett-ish scene-causing mother decided humiliation was the best cure. She marched me into the store as if she was doing a citizen arrest, and screamed at the top of her lungs “I just caught this little girl stealing”. I don’t really remember the outcome, I just remember feeling ashamed, dirty, and really, really bad. Despite my hang-ups, my girlfriend DeeDee was a shoplifting pro. She would take trips to the local mall armed with empty shopping bags. By the time she returned they would be full of name brand clothes and other scores. I never accompanied them on any of these trips, but sometimes I would get lucky and they would give me some of the “hot” items.

Stealing from High School Lunch Ladies
DeeDee and I had 2nd period lunch together my senior year. I was always broke by lunchtime, due to my cigarette habit or junk food addiction. This caused me to be the ultimate punk rock mooch for a stint. I used to wait out side the lunch food line and grab people’s nickel change off their trays. Good old charming gutter punk tactics. When that got old, DeeDee and I decided to steal school lunches. We worked this down to a real science. We did this two ways. Both of us would go through the lunch line and one person would hold the white styrofoam tray with the lunch, while the other would hover around and appear to be sharing. The person who was not holding the tray would stick a submarine sandwich up her sleeve. We would pay for one lunch, but score two. This is how we mainly operated. However, on the occasion that we were really broke, we had a plan B. Both of us would stand in the lunch line, one person held the tray and the other stole a sandwich. DeeDee would grab the tray and do a fast waltz right past the lunch lady without paying. She was good at going unnoticed, I have never been that lucky. Our little stealing from the school system routine went on every day for a year. Either the lunch ladies were just stupid, or maybe they felt sorry for us and turned a blind eye. In any case, the “rush” was always there.

My Friend the Perverted Santa Clause
I had another friend James, who was an older musician in this local 80’s cheese band I used to groupie. James had no job, no life, nothing going other than being a drummer. His glory days had long passed, and they band was growing apart. He clung for dear life, and continued to live the rock-n-roll lifestyle, which meant drugs, alcohol, and lots of underage girls. I’m happy to say I never slept with him, though he snake did score on most of my friends. Anyway, since he had no job, he was the master of rhyming and stealin. On any trip to the local grocery store, he would wear a long trench coat-mafia style jacket. With the grace of Whodini, he would slip wine bottles, multiple cigarette packs, munchies and other items into his jacket. He would then purchase a pack of gum, or something trivial, and walk right out. SCORE. He then served as a perverted Santa Clause, passing around cigarettes and booze to us minors, and deciding upon which one he would stake a claim. Both James and Deedee served as the ultimate inspiration for us wannabee kleptos.

We sat around the pile.
We sat and laughed.
We sat and laughed and
Waved it into the air!
And we did it just like that.
When we want something,
We don't want to pay for it.

We walk right through the door.
Walk right through the door.
Hey, all right! If I get by, it's mine,
Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine...


Stealin for a Sex Picnic
One day on a trip to Value Giant with my first love CK Boy, I got the itch to be frisky. CK Boy were on a rabid sex kick, being young lovers discovering and doing firsts. We were all over each other, like hungry animals, our teenage minds full of hormones and nasty sex thoughts. How does this relate to shoplifting? I’ll tell ya how. On this day, I was wearing a very skimpy summer dress, and CK Boy and I had blankets in the back of his Nova for a trip to the woods for some “nature fun”. We were picking up snacks for the semi-picnic. Like I said, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We were horney as hell, and gearing up for play. Glancing around the cosmetics aisle, something caught my eye. Hmmmm…. a box of colored condoms. Now this seems like nothing to an adult, but to a horney teenager, its like some sort of forbidden sex toy. Something new and adventurous. Something really dirty and naughty. Full of lust and rebellion, I opened the box, pulled out the condoms and brought them over to CK Boy. He looked at me with a devilish grin and raised his eyebrow. I took the condoms and slipped half of them seductively under my summer dress and into my black lace panties. I then took the other half, and tucked them down the front of CK Boys pants. Yes, I felt powerful, I felt dirty, I felt sexual….. the rush had kicked itself into full gear. CK Boy and I made our purchase and began walking out of the store, arm in arm, ready for some action.

Busted!
Just when we were leaving, a young fresh faced boy came up to us. He tells us he had been watching us, and he knows we have stolen some “items”. Our faces flush, our hearts race…. We were busted. The security guard escorts us to the back room, and grabs a female employee. He asks us to voluntarily retrieve the stolen items from our bodies. With sheepish looks of shame, we pull out the colored condoms and place them on the desk. The security guards look at each other and chuckle. Busted for stealing colored condoms! This will look great on our records. Though they didn’t press charges, we were find and forever 86’ed from the store. Luckily, we were both 18, so our parents did not have to be contacted. With heads hung low we left. We still went to the park and fucked like rabbits…..what better way to release tension?

After that….I never, ever, shoplifted again.

There I was completely wasting, out of work and down
All inside it’s so frustrating as I drift from town to town
Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die
So I might as well begin to put some action in my life

Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law

So much for the golden future, I can’t even start
I’ve had every promise broken, there’s anger in my heart
You don’t know what it’s like, you don’t have a clue
If you did you’d find yourselves doing the same thing too

Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law

You don’t know what it’s like

Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law

Breaking the law



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