Yoove Gott a Frend in Gee-zus
July 20. As transcribed in a police report, an Easter candle inside St. Joachim's Church at 1964 Orange Ave. in Costa Mesa was stolen from its perch "next to the Baptist Tree." Baptist Tree? Ow. No wonder church attendance is declining.
SWF Seeks Heavy-Breathing Roommate July 21. An elementary-school teacher from Westminster called police because she received several obscene phone calls. The male-sounding suspect left three messages "describing explicit sexual acts he wants to perform with the victim." The teacher had recently placed an ad in The Orange County Register requesting a roommate; the dirty calls began the same day. We would like to apologize: we must have jumbled the classified and personal-ad sections once again. By the way: anybody know a 2bdrm, 1bth, 560 sq. ft. SBM available for rent?
Alimentary, Watson July 22. A 24-year-old Costa Mesa woman residing at the Lakes Apartments arrived home at midnight to find several friends partying in her living room. A generous hostess, the resident frequently allowed unannounced guests to hang out in her digs. On this night, however, she found her VCR and Sony PlayStation (with assorted games) missing. The assembled friends told her the items were already missing when they arrived at the vacant apartment earlier in the evening. The resident also noticed that a bottle of vodka and some beer on the living-room table were disturbed, which caused her to cock a sleuthing eyebrow: missing gear, missing booze, lots of friends cycling in and out. Perhaps, she told police, the culprit is "a friend of hers who likes vodka"?
Absolut Discount July 23. Two a.m. is the witching hour for alcohol in these parts, the time when the law decrees your Shirley Temple a virgin. As we often find, however, the suds curfew drives some of our thirstiest citizens to criminal action. With the deadline for a sober night approaching, two males entered a Costa Mesa Chevron, stacked 60 beers on the counter and told the clerk, "Get ringing."
Unite the Vibe featuring the Sovereign Artist, Nate Hancock, Sam Alley
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The Suicide Machines
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The Dirty Knobs / Marc Ford & the Neptune Blues Club
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Realizing that selling booze after curfew could land her in the pen, the saleswoman glanced at the clock and announced, "It's 2:01. I'm not going to be able to sell you the beer." Undeterred, the men remained at the counter, staring at the clerk.
"I'm not going to lose my job," she said, underscoring her determination.
"We're going to have to take it anyway," one of them replied. He punctuated his comment by dropping a $20 bill on the counter. "Give us two packs of Marlboro Lights."
The clerk did not comply, but the men scooped up the beer and the smokes and headed out the door.
A quick calculation revealed the pair were $32 short on their booze dues.
"I'm calling the police," the clerk threatened.
One of the departing thieves stopped, turned toward her and asked, "You're not really going to do that, are you?"
Mission accomplished with brio, the pair slipped into a small silver car and took off southbound on Harbor Boulevard. The clerk, of course, called the police. However, her retaliation was somewhat hampered— she was unable to provide an accurate description of the dry-namic duo because, the police report notes, "she is colorblind." Isn't color-blindness an inability to distinguish red and green? For those of you racial-profiling at home: authorities are looking for two sick-looking Native Americans.
Parked Ranger July 25. Unless limited space, physical disability or unwieldy wedding attire is at hand, valet parking should be illegal. Or at least heavily frowned upon. Only the most porcine Americans exalt in the ego boost afforded by having a pimply kid save them a few turns of the steering wheel and a two-minute walk. Our favorites are the impeccably groomed swines at gyms who, not wanting to sweat the stairway to the plebian parking lot, flip their Bentley keys to the valet and head inside for a feng shui cardio-kickboxing session.
Nonetheless, we know first-hand that the other side of the key ring is an occasionally lucrative, if always toadying, enterprise. But it certainly doesn't warrant what happened to a Fountain Valley man who parks cars for Muldoon's Irish Pub in Newport Beach. He arrived at 202 Newport Center Dr. at 8:30 p.m., slid his 1994 Ford Ranger pickup into a nearby parking spot, placed the keys in the top drawer of his valet cart, and waited for guests to arrive. The valet left the cart unattended just once (for a brief trip to the bathroom). More than an hour later, the lot began to fill, so he decided to create more space by moving his own truck. One problem: the keys were missing from the cart drawer, and his truck was nowhere to be seen. Could it be someone valeted for the valet? Perhaps, but the only tip they deserve is the informant kind— the truck is still missing. The whole episode is kinda like having the coat-check guy lose his jacket at work.
Keystone Krooks July 29. A small group of friends watching the wheels go round in a 20-year-old's Costa Mesa apartment decided the night would be better spent hanging out and skating in the parking lot of the local Albertson's. Returning to his unlocked apartment two hours later, the resident discovered he was missing his VCR, cordless kitchen phone, home stereo, speaker, CD changer, suitcase, and "bean bag" (we assume that means a beanbag chair, the mandatory accouterment of all college-age abodes). Total value: $830. Since nothing else was disturbed and the theft required considerable knowledge of the apartment, the victim surmised the thief was not a stranger. After reporting the crime to police, the man went out to buy a new phone. While parking his car at home, he noticed the padlock to his assigned storage garage was curiously unlocked. By agreement with the property owner, the man shared the garage with residents of a neighboring apartment. Peeking inside, the man saw—voil!— his stolen equipment placed in a neat pile. Helpful Weekly Note to Potential Thieves: do not sequester stolen merchandise in the victim's own garage.
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