Why you won't be seeing any pictures of my trip to Paris

Today, as I was perusing the menu at Les Deux Magots, in the St. Germaine-des-Pres neighborhood of the chi-chi Left Bank, some shithead came along and stole my purse. The black one that you can see on my bed in the picture just below.

In the purse (thank goodness, a cheapie from Target) there was:

my wallet (not cheap) with 150 Euros (and about 50 dollars, too)
my driver's license
about four credit cards
all those stupid cards you use at the grocery store, health club, etc.
my check book
my prescription sunglasses
my favorite lipstick case with my favorite lipstick
my camera with about 60 photographs of Paris, including cute ones of my kids posing in front of the promotional signs for the new Simpsons movie

and

MY FUCKING PASSPORT.

It's Saturday. So I won't be able to do anything about getting a new passport until Monday. So I probably won't be able to go back to Chicago until Tuesday.

And no, I didn't do this on purpose.