Did I tell you about the mugging?

Yesterday, I was taking a personality quiz and one of the questions was "You see a woman get mugged. Do you help her or go after the mugger?" This is one of those questions you make up an answer to, because who knows what you would actually do when the adrenaline starts rushing.

I DO!

A few months ago (and I'm sure I blogged about it), a woman was mugged outside the house. She was screaming and my initial thought was that she was being attacked. But when I and a roommate reached her, she was screaming that her purse was snatched. I told my roommate to call the cops and I asked her which way and she pointed and I ran.

A question to ask in these instances is "Did he go that way in a car?" Because if they nod, then it's really kinda moot. And I did not ask. And it was, indeed, moot.

The good news is that she is okay and she lost some money and a filo-fax which is nothing next to one's health. And the other good news is some guy got a lot of cash. That's not really good news unless you are him. But hey, grab the silver lining while you can.

Anyway, I now know I'm a bolter. I ran the whole time thinking "What are you going to do? Take him down in your flip flops and high school aikido skills?" But I was relying on him either being drunk and easy to take down or throwing the purse aside after grabbing the cash, in which case, at least she'd have her keys and filo-fax.

And here's the thing. I was scolded at for being crazy. Guys with big biceps don't get scolded!!!

I want big biceps.

God, I'm obsessed with this.

Oh, and it means I'm an Angelina. Not a Jen.