The Place People Go To Die
Filene’s basement? Any SUNY school? No, sorry, the correct answer is the DMV- a terrifyingly purgatory-esque building that makes you pay for pens and steals your soul with the click of one horribly angled camera.
So back in April my parents ordered me my new 21 license, with the little heart indicating I’m willing to “give the gift of life” as an organ donor (which from Grey’s Anatomy I know just means heavens forbid I’m in a serious car accident, attractive doctors will harass and pester my parents to let me die so they can jump my broken bones and steal my liver for some 60 year old alcoholic who will just continue drinking after receiving my sexy little liver anyway. But the heart on my license just looks so cute!) First night out in the city after abroad and POOF it’s gone like the wind. I guess that’s what happens when you let your ID float around loose in your bag (What kind of idiot doesn’t use a wallet? Oh yeah that’d be me…) and throw 20’s at bartenders for drinks all night. Nothing feels better than making out with a guy then buying your own drink! So long story short (well really it’s not a long story, I pretty much just told it to you in three sentences), I lost my license in the city and because this is the second time I’ve done this in two years (Perks of Being an Alcoholic), I had to go into the DMV to get a new one instead of just ordering it online.
Not a bad idea to retake my picture though. You have to see what I’ve been living with for five years. Man, was I ugly at sixteen. So I recruited my main bitch Melissa and hauled her ass over to the DMV at 8:30 on a Friday morning. Now thats what I call friendship.
We get there at 8:33 (it opens at 8:30) and its already more packed with Long Island guido white trash than the mall on a Saturday night. So we wait and wait as I make friends with the juvenile delinquent and his precious mother standing behind us who were clearly not going for Lil Bow Wow 2’s permit test for the first time. Finally it’s my turn and I figure I’ll be bubbly and nice and get them to love me. No. He throws a form in my face to fill out and I could honestly see the death in his eyes staring right through me. Pen? You can purchase one in the pen machine …over there. Over there was surrounded by seemingly imprisoned angry and depressed murderer look alikes, whom I had to weave though in order to purchase a 25 cent pen from the pen machine. It already ran out of ink!
After I returned to Satan with my filled out form, he took my picture before I could even push my boobs out enough to look like I have a good body from the bra line up. And when I asked if I could take it from my left side (strong side) he simply clicked his mouse and took a lopsided photo of me that was probably cross eyed. Could I proof it? Next!
Then I had to wait in the wack church looking pews for some bitch to call my number and charge my parents $17.50 (thanks daddy!) It felt like I was walking to my executioner. But, none the less, I now have a temporary paper license and with my impromptu decision to come to College Park for the weekend with my friend Spinner to stay in a half empty frat house (nothing better than sleeping in a boys bed, without the boy), thank God a photoless, paper license will suffice for the bars here. Oh College Park, how I’ve missed you so.
Me and Spinner back in CP for the first time in 7 months? This should be interesting.. Like WTF?!
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