Dammit.

i hate everything

Just in case you’ve been living under a rock:

The Squishy Store is open for businessI never watch soaps but one’s on right now while I’m waiting for Oprah and I think I just heard the worst line reading ever for, “Hey, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, buddy, but you’re mother has cancer!” That line shouldn’t make you laugh. But I did. I laughed and laughed and laughed some more. Thank you, General Hospital. I think the guy with the bad reading is the guy that was in Eric’s play. Man. Why can’t Eric be on General Hospital? He’d be all dimple-y and evil and he’d have that fake laugh he’d use when we had company he didn’t like and people would love to hate him. That’s what Eric needs. A good soap. But back to the hilarity. I laughed like that soaps PSA where some guy was trying to act all tough, saying that peer pressure can be difficult. I can’t even describe the hilarity there.

Listen. I’m a good person. I pay my bills on time. I try not to break any laws. I’m a safe driver. I’m a good friend. I am respectful of neighborhoods. I don’t litter. I don’t steal or loan things that don’t belong to me. I don’t let my pets poo all over the city. I don’t release toxic fumes into the air. I don’t break the law. I don’t run from cops. I don’t loiter, solicit, riot or threaten.

But I’m pretty sure I’m now just being punished for being a responsible citizen.

I know people that never bother to get these things done that I’m doing this week. They don’t register their cars or get licenses for the cities they live in. They have insurance from one state, a license from another, registration from another and their residence is a completely different state. I have friends that just don’t go into some states because of warrants from old speeding tickets. They avoid large areas, like Texas. I know people that have been lying about who they are and where they’re from for years.

And I always assume that doing the right thing gives better Karma. But no. It sure doesn’t. Not after you’ve spent an hour in line at the DMV only to be told that the Birth Certificate you’ve been using for twenty years isn’t really a birth certificate.

Okay, so I guess my parents have the real birth certificate? I don’t even know. This piece of paper I have I’ve been using for jobs and applications and important documents for as long as I can remember. It’s never been a problem before. It’s old. I think it used to have a watermark or seal. But the California DMV told me that it was worthless and sent me away. Goodbye. That’s it.

So I had to order a new birth certificate online and pay much cash to get it FedExed here because my license expires on Wednesday because of my birthday and I have to get this damn test taken and register my car so I can be a California resident so I can get health insurance so the pill doesn’t cost $45 a month anymore and I can buy some allergy medicine before my eyes fall out of my head and I accidentally step on them.

This is stupid. I’m only trying to do the right thing and it keeps getting more and more difficult. The DMV is a giant wagon wheel. No one knows what line they are in or why they are in that line.

Oh, God. Carnie Wilson’s on Oprah. See? Oprah makes everything better. There’s nothing like Crazy Carnie weeping all over the place. Excellent.

Anyway, no one knows what line they are in, and some lines are much longer than others and some people have forms and some don’t and some people speak English but most don’t and some are just complaining as loudly as they can and some of us are just cracking each other up in the corner because it’s the only way that you can really deal with it. I thought their fish tank was missing fish, but we realized that the fish were just on break. There was one point where only one woman in the entire building was helping anyone and her job was to hand out forms.

Then two young pimply kids walked in with ties, clipboards and name tags. Whoosh! The entire DMV filled with workers and this incredible chorus of “Next in line, please!” floated down like, “Who will buy my sweet red roses?” and the line moved and we thanked the young supervisors for whatever strange sense of power they have and then they told me that I have no proof that I’ve been born.

So, now I wait for Pennsylvania to send another birth certificate. Then I make more appointments and go down there again and take tests and wait in four lines and listen to bad music and watch babies play in dirt and then go back to the car insurance place to tell them that my license number has changed and then sit around waiting for identification so I can get some health insurance.

And car insurance is double here what it was in Texas. At one point they started asking me about my sister’s driving record and I totally panicked. I thought maybe in California they take your entire family’s driving record into account. They wouldn’t let me drive down the street if that was the case.

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