(1:58 pm) I left my office and headed to the bank to replace my debit card. The man who was kind enough to cancel it for me over the phone assured me that any local branch could replace it for me. HE LIED. I wish I had gotten his name because his supervisor would be receiving a strongly worded letter. I cashed a check instead and suddenly realized what it feels like to do "hoodrat" things.
(2:11 pm) I arrive at the Department of Motor Vehicles License Office. I walk up to the lady at the information desk and explain my plight.
Me: Some whore stole my license. I need to have it replaced.
Young Rue McClanahan: * HA! You and everyone else in this world
Me: That whore must be crafty
Young Rue McClanahan: Fill this out and wait your turn. Oh, and take a number
*You may know Rue McClanahan better as that tramp Blanche Devereaux of the Golden Girls. In case you are still wondering, here's a little visual aid, Blanche is the slut in the yellow:
Now then, I take my number and I am A222. At the bottom of my ticket it says "estimated wait 8 minutes 27 seconds." This is the best news I have ever heard. I celebrate with a smile. An older gentleman in a yellow polo sees this smile and assumes that it is directed at him. He smiles back. I recoil in horror and run to the opposite side of the room. I fill out my forms and look up at the board where the "Now Serving Number XXX" is posted. It is now (2:16 pm). I quickly realize that the number that is being served is number A183. This little piece of paper just lied to me and I do not appreciate it there is no way I am getting help in 8 minutes. I suddenly understand the appeal of a flask.
There are two elderly ladies (more on the Betty White and Bea Arthur side) sitting on the far left of one row. That doesn't seem too dangerous (remember that I just said that). A rotund woman is sitting on the far right hand side leaving three seats open in the middle. Yahtzee! I make my way there and sit down.
I immediately regret this decision.
The rotund lady is not alone as I originally thought, she is with a man who looks like he should be on one of those TLC shows (you know the ones I'm talking about -- World's Fattest Man, The 500 Pound Woman, I Ate the Rest of My Family and Now I'm Sad. Well Sad And Hungry). So I'm blocked in on the right.
Overweight people make me pretty uncomfortable as it is, but this guy is wheezing too. So when he turns to me and asks how long a passport lasts I jump and let out a little shriek. "I, uh, I don't know, I just got it this year." Then I pretend to be using my phone to avoid further conversation. I am actually sending myself a text message that says "Go to the gym tonight, avoid looking like man at DMV."
(2:24 pm) A voice from the heavens says "Now Serving Number A183." Its then that I realize NOT A SINGLE NUMBER HAD PASSED IN THE 13 MINUTES I HAD BEEN THERE. Then things got worse.
Bea Arthur and Betty White start talking. At first it is innocent chit chat. But then it turns into the most mundane shitfest anyone has ever been forced to listen to.
Bea Arthur: Yes, my shoes ARE leather. I have two pair in the same color. Isn't that funny? I mean you would never think that you would need two pair of brown leather shoes but one has a slight heel and I like to wear those to church (I can only speculate so that she can be closer to God?) The other pair are far more comfortable. I just love comfortable shoes. I always say, make sure you are wearing comfortable shoes. I just hate the uncomfortable ones.
Betty White: Oh, yes dear, that's lovely. I don't know what company makes these chairs but they always seem to cut me in just the wrong place. I'm not quite sure if I am too tall for them or too short, but they just hit me in the wrong place. And they seem to be everywhere. Restaurants, hotels, just everywhere. (please note that these chairs were plastic. When is the last time you went to a restaurant or a hotel with shitty plastic chairs?) I wonder what company has the contract for these chairs.
Bea Arthur: Well, that is just awful. I'm going to have my grandson look in to that. He uses those computers for things.
They droned on like this until (2: 36 pm) when their number was called. WHEN YOU WEAR YOUR HEELS TO CHURCH THANK GOD FOR ME, BEA. I had been tuning out Bea and Betty by watching the television which wasn't loud enough to hear, but had subtitles. General Hospital was on the TV. Now I've never watched General Hospital before (or any soap for that matter) but I was really getting in to it. I mean so much action, so much drama, so much passion! There was only one problem. Whoever was doing to closed captioning was drunk. I am certain of it. It would be perfect for two lines and then just make no sense at all. Sort of like this.
Mia: What are you doing here, Drake?
Drake: I think you know, Mia. I am here to find out who shot Michael.
Mia: Well dershtinel fine by my manther.
HUH? I am trying to figure out who the hell Michael is here. Stupid drunks.
(2:48 pm) I am starting to realize that this is going to take longer than an hour and I have a really important decision to make. Bail and try again tomorrow or tough it out. I look around the room. Man in the yellow polo shirt is gone, one hazard down. Betty and Bea have left, not bad. I guess I'll stay.
(2:59 pm) Shortly thereafter a woman who bears a striking resemblance to the Scarecrow of the Wizard of Oz comes and sits, not where Betty and Bea were, but in the seat right next to me on the left. Awesome. Then she is joined by a girl who is the exactly what I would imagine the love child of Mr. Koolaide and Anna Nicole Smith (in her reality show days) to look like. Double awesome.
They start talking about God knows what (tractors, Nascar, truck rallies, and Bret Michaels would all be fair guesses) and a couple sits down in front of me. I can already tell this is one of those PDA couples. Both fairly unattractive so they have to show the entire world "See, I knew I'd find someone else just as desperate as me someday, now I'm going to rub your face in it."
I am seriously considering jumping ship. I don't know if I can stomache the smell of The Scarecrow's Lady Stetson or the sight of what appears to be two over sized pickles groping each other any longer. I look around desperately for a new seat. There are none.
(3:08 pm) The number of the TLC man next to me is called. This is both good (he was only 2 numbers ahead of me) and bad (there are now two open seats to my right). I turn and see a small family about to occupy them when I hear the mysterious voice say "Now Serving A222." I am saved. I am pretty sure I knocked over a small child when I jumped out of my seat to go have a woman with the strangest haircut I have ever seen (think Chia Pet) get all of my information. By the time I left the DMV it was (3:26 pm) and I was $10 poorer, and I am sure as hell glad that's over with.
I get in my car, head back to work and my finger starts getting shooting pains in it when it hits me. SHIT. I HAVE HERPES NOW. THE CHAIR IN THE DMV GAVE ME HERPES.
I went to a small private school and our sex ed consisted of some kid's dad who was a gynecologist showing us pictures of the damage that STDs can do to the delicate parts of a person. It ended in "this is why you should never have sex unless it is for reproductive purposes with someone of the opposite sex that you are married to."
Someone did manage to ask a really great question though (they were probably expelled for it later). They asked him: "Can you get an STD from a toilet seat?" He said no, you can't. But I am right here, right now calling that man a liar. Because I know for a fact I just got herpes from that chair at the DMV. If not herpes then certainly diphtheria or something equally deadly.
The Moral of the Story: Thieving whores are directly related to second hand STDs. They are never to be trusted and must be stopped. I suggest that we put some legislation up for a vote to get rid of theiving whores. THEN, the rate of STDs would drop dramatically. We should also probably put in some sort of amendment to also rid the world of Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, and Kim Kardashian. We really have no hope of combating STDs without getting rid of those three first.
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