Today I forgot to eat lunch. I don’t know how this happened and if you know anything about how I eat about every three hours, you don’t either. It started with an ambitious effort to create eight four-piece baked good packs for my friends, was intercepted by a run in with the coppers, led me to three different government offices, culminated with me in tears at the DMV and ended with this plate of goodness and an hour-long Taylor Swift special.
Sounds about right.
Perhaps it was unwise to start my baking adventure–chocolate chip cookies, brownies and peanut butter cups–at noon considering that’s when I usually eat. Afterwards, I thought. I’ll just start it. Food in an hour. No problem.
Then Stew asked me to take him to pick up his car. Hmmm, now we’re pushing almost 2pm. I will get cranky if I don’t eat. It’s five minutes. The brownies need to cool anyway. Food in five more minutes. No problem.
What’s this? Flashing blue lights in my rearview mirror? Again?? I did manage to not burst into tears this time, which, were I not 25 freaking years old, would be a grand accomplishment. Still, with my tail lights in perfect working order after the last incident, I had no idea why I’d been stopped this time. Ohhh, the cop did. My damn license plate decal expired months ago.
I responded with semi-legitimate shock. I never received anything in the mail. I just moved over the summer. Maybe it got lost in the shuffle between two homes? Yes, I’m aware my mom emailed to reminded me about two months ago. No, I don’t know where the courthouse is. AS;LFJSDFuuuudge. Yes, I got a ticket.
After thanking the officer for pulling me over (how many times can that happen in one month??), I headed to the DMV to clear this shit up. Let’s talk about what a terrible idea that was. I was trembling (happens every time I get pulled over no matter what), without food going on six hours (unheard of for me) and I was entering the gates of hell.
Perhaps the most frustrating thing about the DMV is how you have to wait in line just to be told you’re in the wrong place. I also hate any situation in which I owe money that I’m willing, nay, desperate to pay, but there’s too much red tape in the way to get it done. Go here. Bring this document. Sign this. Visit these THREE OTHER OFFICES.
No. I want to pay you. Please let me pay you. I will make it rain dolla billz down upon your wretched little establishment with a smile on my face like Snoop Dogg in a strip club if you will just let me pay this here. now. please.
If you’ve ever been to the DMV, you know this did not happen. I had to grace the entrance of two other government offices and get on the phone with my mom in Illinois who had a tax collector in Greenville on the phone with me in Rock Hill before I had all the bulllll in order that I needed back at the DMV, which, by the time all of this had been cleared up, would be closing in 13 minutes. Good. Very good.
Food didn’t come into the equation until 7pm, at which point I created myself a glorious feast of roasted broccoli, baked tofu, brown rice, green beans and avocado and plopped down to watch a Taylor Swift special on E!. Glory, glory hallelujah.
I want Taylor Swift to write an angry post-break up song for the DMV. She’s feisty.
Oh oh OH. And I’ll be back at the DMV tomorrow. Of course. In my best impression of the fakest, meanest, most insincere girl you’ve ever had lie to your face about how “cuuuuute” you look: I can’t wait! LOL <3
Who can tell I’ve been watching T Swift in action? My night is sparkling. Lay offfff.