Ripped Off!

Our license plates were stolen.

We were backing out of the driveway when Doug looked over at his car and said, ''Why doesn't my car have a back license plate?'' And sure enough, it's gone. Right along with the front plate. He's livid...and I mean steaming kind of livid. We figure it's the teenage f*ck-ups who live in the next few blocks over. Doug has interrupted one burglary of our garage and called the cops on them a second time when they decided it would be fun to move large rocks from the neighbor's home and string them across the street at 4 a.m. Anybody coming down the street would have their undercarriage and gas tank ripped off by these landscaping rocks. We're officially sick of it. They toss trash in our yard, spit on the deck, steal from the garage, pick through the (occasionally unlocked) cars for cash and CDs, and now swipe our license plates. Nice.