Nothing says Christmas like a drunk, cross-dressing four year old robbing his neighbors in the night.

we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming…

Pick a Lock

As far back as I can remember I have always wanted to be a spy, or super hero. And each of those professions requires certain skills, being able to get into any place you want is one of those skills. Now, with the help of my handy dandy 11 piece lock picking set, I am one step closer to possessing all the skills I need to be able to write International spy on my resume.

Here is the link to the video. FYI the guy singing is Jesus, it’s from Family Guy when Jesus does his magic tricks.

Burn Notice Season 2 Episode 1 Breaking and Entering

Alternative:

]]> http://jp1885.wordpress.com/2009/10/19/pensioner-remanded-for-stealing-own-bike-back/ Mon, 19 Oct 2009 15:07:50 +0000 jp1885 http://jp1885.wordpress.com/2009/10/19/pensioner-remanded-for-stealing-own-bike-back/

A Hereford pensioner has been remanded to appear in court on charges of breaking and entering, after stealing his own bicycle back from the person who initially stole it.

When his garage was broken into last December, Alfred Gwilliam, 75, was devastated to find that his only method of transport was missing. “I use my bike all the time – it keeps me fit.” he said when the original theft was reported. “I’d seen some lad hanging around an hour or so before – looked like he had a spot of Gypsy in him, so I was wary from the start.”

He later discovered that his bike had gone when alerted by his neighbour. “Next door’s boy had his bike nicked as well. We reported it to the police but unless you’ve been caught speeding they don’t want to know nowadays – I never thought I’d see my wheels again.”

However during a bus ride into town last week, Alfred’s luck changed when he spotted the suspicious youth leaving a lock-up yard. “I easily recognised him – swarthy looking bugger – so later on that evening I popped back to the lock-up with a pair of bolt croppers and let myself in.” Inside the yard was an Aladdin’s cave of stolen goods, including Alfred’s and his neighbour’s bicycles. “It didn’t take me long to walk back home with the bikes – next door’s lad was overjoyed.”

However events took an unexpected turn when Alfred reported his actions to the police the next day. “It turns out that when the bloke was arrested, the cheeky pillock reported my bit of ‘recycling’ and filed charges against me, so I found myself up before the magistrate as well as him.” Alfred was remanded to appear in court on charges of theft, breaking and entering and wilful damage of a padlock.

“I don’t know which way to turn – It’s all this bloody paperwork. On one hand I’ve got to fill in my details for the criminal records, on the other I’ve got victim support feedback forms to complete. Thank Christ nobody’s noticed that I haven’t retracted my insurance claim!”

(Written 18 Feb 2009)

 11:59 pm

I Shishkabobbed my Ex’s Pet  Fish and You Give me 2 Years Probation? – PORTLAND, OREGON - There’s no doubt about it…. there is definitely a psycho born every minute, then they grow up to fulfill their destiny of being a Charles Manson follower.  It could be genetics, maybe mom and dad smoked a few too many joints, or just a plain old  screwed up family that drives a person goofy.  When they do something off the wall, it’s often overlooked because those who are doing the head turning don’t want to deal with the embarrassment.  Johnny drives by his ex’s house 50 times a day, after she told him to beat it.  Jeffrey calls a hundred times a day, then hangs up and laughs his ass off.  But Donnie breaks into his ex’s house to shiskabob some fish?  Yep, he’s got some issues that will soon be resolved the hard way.

An Oregon man who broke into his ex-girlfriend’s apartment and impaled her pet fish with a barbeque skewer was sentenced to two years probation, a psychological evaluation and community service at a local pet store. Donald Earl Fite III pleaded guilty Tuesday to animal abuse, breaking and entering, possession of instruments for shishkabobbing, and domestic violence assault.   Apparently the woman had broken up with Fite in his aparment but later that day she came home and found him laying nakde in her her bed masturbating into a sock.  When she tried to call the police, Fite shoved her against a wall. and tossed her in the bathtub to cool off. (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20091014/ap_on_fe_st/us_odd_impaled_fish)

The woman managed to run away and find a cop only to return and find her fish dead on the wood floor with a metal rod through it.   When he was tracked down Mr. Fishkabob said “If she can’t have me, then she can’t have the freaking fish. I should have just grilled him to get rid of the evidence. “   The unlucky pet owner plans to get a memorial tattoo of the fish and wanted Fite to pay for it, but he said hell no because he had already paid for enough stuf and didn’t get a freaking thing in return.   The judge declined to make Fite pay restitution for the fish, but he did order him to stay away from his ex, though he said he could have contact with other fish, as long as it’s in a restaurant.

By Kellene Bishop

Ladies, it’s important that we control our bodies in a stressful encounter and not the other way around. The ability to do so may certainly make the difference between life and death.

Photo c/o hoboken411.com

For example, when a woman sees a gun pointed at her, her natural instinct is usually to scream and put her hands up in a manner of surrender—not keep them hidden and think. On the contrary, I have literally practiced handing my purse over to someone, PRETENDING to be a weak basket case and shooting my gun through my purse. That’s presence of mind that can protect your life. (Obviously, you would NEVER practice shooting a gun AT a human being. There’s no such thing a dress rehearsal for that.) I’ve also practiced pulling my asp from its hiding place as well as being prepared with other defensive devices.

Secondly, much like the Pink Panther movies, my husband regularly gives me practice of self-defense by startling me around the house. I have learned not to scream, throw my hands up flailing, and back away. I’ve instead learned to instinctively to go into “fight” mode, rather than “flight” mode. As a preferred target of criminals, it’s critical that we hone our natural instincts. After seeing many a woman fight viciously to protect their own child, I’m convinced that we were not programmed to flake out and crumble in a confrontation.

Austin thieves caught on a webcam. Photo c/o austinist.com

We also have practiced and thoroughly discussed what will happen IF someone were to charge unwelcomed into our home, or even our bedroom, at night while we are sleeping. We have practiced our efforts many times so that we know where the firearms are, where the strongholds are, playing possum when appropriate, etc.

This is called training. You don’t need to go to boot camp to accomplish this level of skill and awareness. You simply need to create your own disciplined mental and some physical training scenarios to better prepare yourself.

As you hone your natural instincts and run through these kinds of real-life scenarios, you will find that you’ll surround yourself with a stronger sense of peace and confidence rather than “whatever happens, will happen.”

Copyright 2009 Women of Caliber and Kellene Bishop. All rights reserved.  You are welcome to repost this information so long as it is credited to Women of Caliber and Kellene Bishop.

I’m longing for some old fashioned breaking and entering- criminal mischief of the investigative kind.  My mom, usually the co-conspirator.  I was digging around on my old blog to see what I was doing years ago at this time and came to my Oct 2, 2006 post.  I LOVE this house we broke into.  Anyone recognize it?  Well, here’s my old post…. because like F. Scott Fitzgerald describes, I’m always “being borne back ceaselessly into the past”…   Not much changes- running, feeling better.

Ohhhh…ahhhh…that’s better.  Where have you been, lost friend? I’m feeling much, much, better, thank you. Autumn is settling her bones around here; exoskeletons in mass graves amongst the dying crab grass. I’ve been running these evening, against time, in a frantic way… as if october’s spiny fingers are at my back urging me on, crunching the battlefield leaves and onward into the white gory of winter. Look up Sunny Day Real Estate. Listen. cry. whatever…hey, you do what you like, okay? I’ve been exploring haunted houses. Well, hopefully (haunted, that is). We broke into (my mother, aunt, dale) a personal obsession of mine on Third Street in Connellsville. Enchanting…the things that permeate my sleeping subconsious. For every nineteenth century home that I walk through, I momentarily become those former inhabitants. Silly, I know. I belong to another time, that’s certain.

Back on August 31 I blogged about the Boca Police Department using the twitter handle @BocaPolice to dispense information to the general public in real time, and joked that social media could cost you your freedom. Well, kids guess what happened to one West Virginia fellow?

19-year-old Jonathan Parker likes burglarizing people, turns out he likes facebook, too. He enjoys these two activities so much that he decided to do them in tandem. In all his excitement he remembered to take the $3500 worth of diamonds, but forgot to log out of his facebook account from the victim’s computer – I wonder if his status was “excited about my new bling!”?

The burglary happened on August 28, and Jonathan is being held in the Eastern Regional Jail in lieu of $10,000 bond, if convicted he could get up to ten years in prison.

I guess the lesson here is: always steal the computer …or earn your money like the rest of us.

It was reported earlier this week that a Johns Hopkins student straight Kill Bill Vol. One’d some fool with a samurai sword when he was investigating some strange noises coming from his garage late at night. Before I do what I do best and banter on about the subject at hand, I am going to throw yall a link to the news story so yall can get with me on this…Full Story

A few things I want to point out here. First and foremost, why did my man have a samurai sword chillin in the crib in the first place?  Beats me, but I might have to cop one for all those thievin ass haters our there tryin to jack my ish.

Also, why is it even a question whether or not this dude should get charged. Look my man got some nice ish jacked the night before and he got fed up with dealing with the lame ass police that aint doin nothin so my man went hard and did his thing. People are getting soft these days. If a dude is sneakin up in my crib tryin to steal my ish and I happen to come across him, hes taking a ride down BEAT DOWN BOULEVARD

(Too soon?? who cares)

Basically all I am saying is if you wake up and someone is up to some ignit ish in your house and he comes at you, he should be fair game.

Big ups to my dude for real tho. I prolly wouldn’t have went out there without a pistol in hand, cause it is the year 2009 and we got elementary schoolers holdin them thangs.

Tonight, the roomies and I did something we’ve never done before. Broke and entered.

You see… we’ve been pranking our neighbors almost non-stop since we’ve moved in, they’re three guys and super nice, so we like to mess with them.

We do things like blast Aqua out the window on our iHome, or point a laser pointer through the window at them while they’re out on their porch.

It’s always been innocent fun.

Until tonight. We decided to go hang out with them and then we eventually headed across the street with them and their friends to another hang out.

Then while at the hangout we decided we were tired/hungry/feet hurt and decided to come home.

As we walked home we formed a brilliant plan. We’d break into their apartment (via unlocked window) and get their blender to make some smoothies.

First we attempt the window and think it’s locked, so we head around to the back of the apartment knowing their bedrooms have to be unlocked. They are… as we thought. Except, unreachable.

So we decide to once again try to window in front. This time we decided to all push together.

Bad idea.

The window completely falls out into their apartment. We pushed their window into their kitchen sink. Yeah.

Which this is kind of scary if you think about it. Anyone could do that! We had good intentions, but what if some crazy came along? That’s beside the point.

Of course, we start freaking out, thinking we BROKE their window.

Courtney climbs through the window and unlocks the door for us.

Alyssa and I start putting the window back in, and thankfully it pops right back into place. Right after that we start the search for the blender.

Just then Alyssa says, “oooh the floor is all wet right there.”

And that’s all it took. I took one step and BAM, I’m on my back on the floor. Laughing hysterically.

And that was our crazy Pullman night. We also took some photos. Here they are:

I love my roomies.

 this song won’t stop playing in my head – it’s crept into the silence between destinations in the car and has been trapped on repeat through my headphones.  it does that to me sometimes – this song.  this is one of those times.

listen to it with me:  

if you’re reading this sometime between the hours of 3:00am and 6:30am today, then give yourself a hug – you’re one of the elite few who can (probably) claim they saw the very first photos of studio a(wesome), even before amber got the chance.

behold – Studio A(wesome)

yes, you are looking at a 120-year-old ranch house, once located on the furthest edge of south tucson, the desert around it slowly deliquescing into buildings and traffic and human domain, until becoming completely shielded from the hazards – and the safety – of the undomesticated, uninhabited, trenchant wild west.

it is the most beautiful thing i have seen in a very very very long time.

asher’s mini garden, in front of his mini apartment across the street…

so in case we missed an important step here, amber and i are going to be roomies in just a few short weeks.

do you have any idea what this means?!  i don’t think we do either…  but prepare yourself for the incomprehensible pandemic of “whoa!” that is guaranteed to erupt from Studio A(wesome.)  ok?  we cool?

do you want to see our kitchen, in all it’s “just abandoned by the previous tenants and not yet attended to by the property manager” splendor?  

this monstrosity is nearly 200sf by itself.  are you jealous of our kitchen?  asher is.

hello new water heater, meet my favorite western shirt

yesterday involved laundry – lots and lots of laundry.  i tried to remember the last time i’d been to a laundromat, and my best guesstimation was 7 weeks ago.  i guess we’re all lucky that i’m clothed in this picture – i’m the luckiest of us all, because my favorite shirt somehow got lost in the depths of my closet, granting me the thrill of wearing it on laundry day.  you can’t know how beautiful of a thing that is until you experience it for yourself.

asher got bored in his tiny apartment this morning and decided it was perfectly acceptable behavior to cross the courtyard and break into his sister’s house to see for himself just exactly how much better studio a(wesome) is, in comparison to his hobbit-home.

i was awoken by this phone call:

a:  WHAT THE HELL?!?!
d:  …i’m not sure…?
a:  your house is what’s the hell!!!  it’s FIVE times the size of mine.  it’s at least 60,000 square feet!!
d:  …
a:  you never asked me if i wanted to move in with you.  you didn’t ask if i wanted to be your room mate!!!
d:  i did, actually…
a:  and what did i say?!?!
d:  um…  ”no.”
a:  I SAID NO BEFORE I SAW IT!!!  

i got up, put on some (clean!) clothes and drove over to his house to make him take a Picture Of Shame in front of his mud hut for the Poor Telephone Behavior he displayed this morning.  

“i am very sorry that i broke into your house and woke you up by screaming at you over my own poor decisions.”

and that is how you curb bad behavior before it gets out of control.

I’m at Uni at the moment, and on the way here to the library I saw a chick with a foot-high, bright red Mohawk. She was also wearing a pretty sundress over some long-johns and mud-caked work boots. Man, I love this city.

So news on the hyena/wolf front is slim. I’ve had no more annoying calls from Brent (he must value his reproductive ability after-all), and I haven’t seen Ran around since he scared the living hell out of me at work. I have caught the odd scent of wolf around the place now and then – I think it might just be that I know what I’m looking for now, and I’m picking up on old scents and chance encounters.

I suspect I’ve smelt wolf in the city before, and maybe just mistaken it for my own scent. Or maybe I’m just so used to pretending not to notice the scents in the city that I actually just didn’t notice.

On the apartment front: I’m sick of sleeping on the carpet. Also: SO sick of living out of my suitcase.

Luckily I have a plan for getting my stuff back form the Hyenas garage. And it’s a genius plan. I’m going to break into the garage tomorrow, and then have a moving company just come pick my stuff up like I own the place – and as far as they know, I do!

Like I said – it’s so genius it’s likely to get me arrested.

I would have done this before now (I have a low tolerance for non-comfortable sleeping spaces) but I’m still kinda cleaned out after paying my security deposit and first few weeks rent here. BUT the insurance money for my car came through yesterday.

I have enough to get all my stuff here (using el-cheapo movers), and buy a lesser quality rust bucket car. It doesn’t have to be fancy anyway, I just need to get from point A to point B, and mostly at night when it’s not safe to be running around the suburbs or on a bus going to Taekwon Do, or the Gym  or whatnot.

Wish me luck for tomorrow – it’s my first (and hopefully only) attempt at breaking and entering!

By Kellene Bishop

Photo c/o guns-n-stuff.blogspot.com

I’m sure I won’t win any popularity points with the liberal media and its adoring admirers with this comment, but here’s a warning to home invasion criminals: if you come into my home uninvited, you better plan on having a current will drawn up and have repented of everything else in your life. (Sorry, you can’t repent of the breaking and entering just before you do it. It just doesn’t work that way.) I say this because chances are very high that you’re going to meet your Maker relatively soon after you pass through my homestead threshold.

Many would argue that punishing someone who breaks into your home with possible death is un-Christian, archaic, and even “murder.” To be perfectly blunt, such thinking is wrong. It’s not only wrong, but it’s dangerous to the safety and peace of all Americans as it perpetuates an invalid amount of doubt and hesitation which could cost someone their life. Here are some questions I would ask of those who would break into my home. A little something for the “other side” to consider.

1) What part of the U.S. Constitution do you not understand? Did you read the 2^nd or the 4^th Amendment? If not, I assure you that ignorance does not absolve you of a crime.

2) Did you expect me to give you a full interview first to determine whether or not your initial illegal action was intended to lead to other illegal acts?

3) If I did interview you, am I supposed to frisk you as well, or simply take your word for it?

4) A burglary isn’t just about “losing your stuff.” Sure, a lot of stuff can be replaced. But I’m 100% certain that peace of mind, virtue, and life cannot be replaced if it’s taken from me or my family. 

Bottom line, if you walk through my door uninvited, I am not under any obligation to read you your Miranda Rights. I am not under any obligation to read your mind or evaluate your motives. I have every legal right to defend my home and the persons and property therein. So home invasion criminals, consider yourselves warned.

Sign c/o guns-n-stuff.blogspot.com

Copyright 2009 Kellene Bishop. All rights reserved.  You are welcome to repost this information so long as it is credited to Kellene Bishop.

Last night I discovered I have unknown talents when I had to break into my own apartment.

My roommate got home before I did last night, but mistakeningly thought my bedroom light was on, and therefore, locked up for the night – including the chain lock. So, when I sauntered home at 11:30, the door wouldn’t open, and my roommate apparently sleeps like the dead.  She didn’t wake up after the seven phone calls.  She didn’t wake up after the two text messages.  She didn’t wake up after banging on the door for 20 minutes.  And she didn’t wake up after yelling her name into the darkened apartment.

As I stood outside my home, just feet away from my nice cozy bed, I deliberated my next move.  I could see if any of my friends were awake and crash at their place.  I could check into the hotel across the street.  Or I could sleep in my car.  Nothing sounded as appealing as my own bed.

And while I was forcefully trying to open the door and break the chain out of frustration, a light bulb went off.  I knew the only way to open the door was to get the chain off the wall.  I had a key and enough room to use it as a screwdriver.  It took about 10 minutes, but I finally got both screws out and made it inside.

This experience has made me even question the point of having a chain lock.  It’s only going to slow the intruder down.  Granted, I had a key for the deadbolt, but if someone is determined enough, they’ll get in.  And judging from the way my roommate sleeps, she’d never hear a thing!

So no worries Emily! I made it in and had a late-night adventure in the process.  It’s a good thing our mail key is small enough to fit the screws . . . otherwise I would have been really screwed!