Is being mooned, robbed and publicly flogged part of the job description?

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Here’s a bit of news you won’t read on The Daily Beast. My recent trip to New York had some wonderful highs and some serious lows, among which was being robbed. That’s a first for me, and one I’d rather not have experienced.

I sure hope the thieves who broke into my rental car and stole my camcorder enjoy the footage they found, as well as feel proud of their efforts–after going my entire adult life (for me, adulthood began at 16) without a camcorder, due to not having enough money to buy one, for the most part–I purchased one last year to tape my grandsons. The only footage I had of my own four children came from their grandparents, who shared that single video with me. I kept hoping to buy one, but it never worked out. Something I was determined to change, when it came to my grandchildren.

So last summer I purchased the $550 toy, and found not only did it do a great job of taping my bambinos, it also worked swell as a tool for my writing work. Case in point: I taped my two most recent speaking events, including the one where I discussed the La’Shanda Armstrong tragedy in Frostburg. I planned to post it on You Tube, and would have, as soon as I had help uploading it. In addition, part of the footage was going to go into my book trailer–which a business friend said I really, really need. So much for that.
Because not only does my rental insurance not cover it, neither does my own auto insurance, which is liability coverage only. (Who keeps full coverage on a car that’s 14 years old?) This is where the saying, “Easy come, easy go,” does not apply. I will be waiting for awhile to replace it.

Meanwhile readers, I am finding out, are identifying me with my writing. And so my recent piece in The Daily Beast about La’Shanda Armstrong’s funeral came with more public flogging. Apparently, in reporting the facts, as I did there, some people assume these are my opinions. Not necessarily. But if they were, I certainly could not include them in a hard news piece. That’s what op-eds are for, like this first one I did for The Beast. Which I was flogged for, as well. Oh well, I guess we can’t please everyone all the time, can we? (I’ll save my rebuttals for another day, or post comments on the articles themselves.)

Finally, en route to the funeral, I stopped at a convenience store to: a) Ask for directions; b) Use the restroom and, c) Charge my dying cell phone. That’s when I was mooned. Unintentionally. The clerk told me to knock on the door and if no one answered, and the key was also outside the door, on a ledge, then the loo was vacant. So I knocked, got no response, and realized the key was right there. I picked it up, inserted it, opened the door and, viola, I was mooned in less than a New York minute.

Poor chap, he didn’t even know it, since he was in the process of flushing and had his backside to me. (Yes, even though I gasped and immediately closed the door, I saw that much.) Thank goodness he didn’t see me, too!!! I figured he would come out and know exactly who had invaded his privacy, but before he could, two more people came into the store. Much to my relief.

Watcha wanna bet next time he takes the key inside with him?

Editor’s note: Sister of Silence, which is not about being mooned, but which does nonetheless actually contain some humor–since laughter really is the best medicine–is available now for only $14.99. And no, I’m not exploiting the recent tragedy to sell my book. I’m exploiting the guy who mooned me.


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