And Some Things I'm Just Bad At

I went away to college when I was 18. I wasn't ready to go to college and really would have benefited from taking some time off from everything, but college was the fastest way out of the house without getting a job. I brought my clothes, some of my books, my VHS tapes, and collection of cassettes to listen to while I studied.

A month or two later my parents apparently got sick of living in 1982, and decided to repaint my old bedroom and scrape the popcorn texture off the ceiling. Instead of trying to cover the furniture with a drop cloth, they did the easy thing and just moved everything out of the room so they would have space to work.

They discovered a huge pile of junk underneath my bed. There were missing socks, a t-shirt or two, lost homework from high school, permissions slips, my 8th grade reading book (which I insisted had been stolen out of my locker), forgotten toys, half-finished artwork, and a small ashtray.

Yes. An ashtray.

Because I had been secretly smoking in my bedroom for the last year of high school. I would sit in the window in the middle of the night with the screen out, and choke down a cigarette every couple of days in order to feel more rebellious. I smoked cloves because they didn't smell like regular cigarettes and I was careful to never leave ashes where they could be found, didn't flick my butts, and always brushed my teeth after. The perfect crime.  My parents never knew.

And then I left the ashtray under my bed when I moved out, knowing full well that they were planning to renovate.

I learned an important lesson that day:  I would really suck at being a criminal.  I leave way too much evidence behind.

It was a crushing realization because I desperately wished I could be a cat burglar.  I don't know.  Maybe it was the skin tight leather outfits or the witty repartee, but "cat burglar" was on the top 3 list of career choices that I picked for myself in 1994 (after "artist" and "theoretical physicist").  Beautiful and smart and sexy and rich, oh yes, rich.

To this day when I read about a daring heist, I have to remind myself that I don't actually want to go to jail, and I would suck at crime so spectacularly that I would spend my life behind bars if I even survived the caper.

To this day, I need reminding why.

Reasons Why I Would Suck at Being A Criminal:

I TALK WAY TOO MUCH.

1. I am a terrible liar. No, I am seriously bad at it. This is why I can't play practical jokes. I start to say, "Oh no! The gnome must have moved on its own!" but about two words in my chin starts to wobble as I struggle to contain my smile. The longer I hold on, the more desperate the smile is to get out until my cheeks are twitching and I turn bright red and my eyes fill up with laugh-tears and then I guffaw like a donkey.
   
   "No, officer.  I have..." *ahem* "...er... no idea..." *choke**cough* "...where the ahh..." *serious face* "...what was it? Oh, yeah, um... no idea where the... ah... emeralds are." *snicker*
   
   I would probably look so guilty they would arrest me for crimes I didn't commit.
   
   
2. It is nearly impossible for me to keep a secret.  Seriously.  If you want something kept secret, DON'T TELL ME, and even more, DON'T TELL ME IT'S A SECRET!  Sheesh.  One of the first things I tell people when they meet me is that I can't keep secrets. .  I can't help it.  Please, don't ask.
   
   If I were a criminal, though, MY WHOLE LIFE WOULD BE A SECRET.  (I would also have to lie, which ties into reason #1).
   
   Random person at a bar: "So, Leauxra, what do you do for a living?"
   Me: "Oh, I... ah... make... blankets?" *snicker*
   RPaB: "Um..."
   Me: "Shit, dude, I'm kidding.  I am a thief and I'm totally about to rob this joint."
   
   
3. I enjoy talking about my accomplishments... bragging, if you will. One of my more terrible jobs was at a ridiculous internet startup company around the turn of the century.
   
   This company was home of the "52 hour shift" and the "more than half of the support staff is on 72 hour mental health holds because you are causing such anxiety in your staff," and the reason that the first time I saw the movie Office Space, I cried because I not only had MORE bosses than him, but my job was even more annoying.
   
   I hated this job so much that I tried really really hard to make it better by getting my roommate a job there too, and all I managed to do was cause irrevocable scarring for both of us.
   
   Anyway, one thing that this company did RIGHT was that they provided soda and snacks in the break room free for employees. We both worked crappy shifts (read, "when no one else was around") so we took to "shopping at the work store" and bring home cases of Diet Coke and Ho-Hos.
   
   We would call each other at work, "Hey, can you pick me up a ream of paper for the printer?" or "Are there any of those Swiss Rolls left?"  The fact that I am still talking about how awesome this was should clue you in to the fact that I am incapable of NOT talking about it, even over 10 years later.  How would I be if I had committed a REAL crime?
   
   

I HAVE NO CRIME SKILLS:

1. I was not born into a life of crime, so I have no contacts.  I have no idea how to "launder money" or how to "fence" stolen goods.  I understand the concepts in theory because I really like crime dramas and action movies.  But seriously.  It isn't like I could sell this shit on Craigslist. 
   
   Where would I go? What would I do?  Just hold onto all this random shit I stole forever?  It ain't gonna take the cops long to figure out I'm guilty when they search my house and every single item is stolen (and probably still has the store shoplifting tags on them because I couldn't figure out how to get them off).
   
   
2. I can't pick even an easy lock.  And yes I tried.  And yes I got a book about it.  From the library when I was 18.  And yes, I think this puts me on some kind of FBI watch list.  Damn it.
   
   
3. I am not a bad ass.   Somewhere in my 20's, I realized it was way too late for me to become a bad ass.   I don't know how to fight, and the only "fight" training I ever had was a self defense class in college where my flailing elbows did more damage than any moves I was taught.  I also dropped the class halfway through.
   
   I am a real wimp when it comes to pain, so I don't know how I would do in a fight to the death.  I would probably cry.
   

OTHER CONSIDERATIONS:

1. I am not in very good shape.  I will admit, I am getting better.  I've starting going 4 times a week to the gym plus my weekend hikes and whatnot, but in the grand scheme of the world, I am not in good enough shape to outrun... um... anyone?
   
   This also leads into the vanity bit, because the WHOLE POINT of being a cat burglar is so you can wear an outfit like, say CATWOMAN, and look awesome.  I really really don't think anyone wants to see me in a catwoman suit.  I would look something like a cross between a bratwurst and Randy in A Christmas Story when he can't put his arms down, and then add in bits of fatty flesh rolling out at the seams.
   
   Not a good look.
   
   
2. I worry too much.  I am pretty sure that I would have a heart attack before I ever robbed or burgled anything.  The reason is that I have an imagination, and I know that it is going to hurt when the homeowner blasts me with a shotgun or sics his 250 lb rottweiler on me.
   
   
3. There is no insurance plan for criminals. And this would be particularly necessary because I would be in a high-physical-risk job.
   
   
4. I don't speak any languages other than English.  Being a successful cat burglar, I would need to travel to places like the Riviera and... Dubai, I guess.  I would need to be able to speak more than one language if I was EVER going to fit in (although I am pretty sure if I were to talk around in a tight leather outfit all the time, I wouldn't fit in anywhere outside of Sturgis anyway, and even then, I would be seriously lacking in fringe). 
   
   I speak maybe 100 words of Latin, about the same of German, and a phrase or two of Spanish and Italian.  French is totally weird and I can't even say bonjour without it sounding like "Bon Jovi", and then I get "Wanted Dead or Alive" stuck in my head.  It's pretty hopeless.

So yes.  Reminders. 

Note to self:  Do not try to become a criminal.  You will go to jail and/or probably die.

P.S.  Oh, and I forgot to mention.  It is totally morally wrong to steal things.  There's that, too.

P.P.S. The above reasons are the same reasons I can't become a spy, either, although once the Cold War ended, this particular career lost a ton of it's appeal.