So, I was at the DMV today getting my license renewed. I had to fill out an application with some strange questions. Needless to say, my family will be a bit mystified after my death when some men come to the door looking for my Wurlitzer. Maybe I am still a bit confused as to what it means to be an organ donor.
Anyway, everything was going just fine (fine, just fine). My eye sight
is spot on; the line moved fast, and they took plastic--finally. The part where I go to get my new photo for my license was the place it all went South.
First off, I was wearing a hoodie, as is the fashion these days (like so two years ago). I had the hood on earlier because it was raining outside. This messed up my hair. They didn't have a mirror for me to check my hair before the shoot. I also had bloodshot eyes and dark circles underneath due to lack of sleep from working around some nasty chemicals this week (effin' headaches). My picture made me look like a tweaker. That is not going to help me get out of a ticket.
After going through the horror that is the DMV portrait, I went over to seal the deal with my signature. This is where my day got worse. I fear the UPS man because of this thing: the electronic signature machine. Normally, having the UPS man stop by is the only time I get excited about seeing brown. Now all brown is associated with disgust and disappointment. I cannot sign these things to save my life. Seriously, if they were to make an inspirational movie about my life it would involve raising Anne Sullivan from the dead and teaching me how to use these things. I can see it now...
Mrs. Sullivan: "You can do it. Feel the stylus--let it be part of your hand."
Me: "Uhhhhhhh, wahwah...naaaaaaaaaaa--phffffffbbbbbbbbt!"
Mrs. Sullivan: "You almost have it. Don't lift the stylus or else you will lose control."
Me: "Ahhhhhh, bwahwah....moooooo?"
Mrs. Sullivan: "Don't look at that cow; look at me! Sign your name with me...Guh-Gruh-Grunt-ty."
Mrs. Sullivan: "Yes! Yes, again!!! Gruuuuuuuunty."
Mrs. Sullivan: "Close enough, you brick."
So, in closing, I will say that my new driver's license will not only make me look like a meth addict, but also a tomato head who can't write, thanks to the TIGF in a uber-bad way electronic signature machine. Anyway, I was treated to something today, something said "hi" to me and it made my day. That is for another post. Until then, GO JAZZ!!!
P.S. I've caught up with responding to your comments to this week's previous posts, including the last TIGF!!! Make sure to go back and read them.
4 years ago