Spreading Sunshine Amongst The Weak and the Weary

l had errands to run yesterday, so I decided to put on my happy face and get them done early.  (The fact that it was a thousand degrees with a gazillion percent humidity may or may not have had something to do with me getting my rear in gear at the buttcrack of dawn.  Also, the kickASS thunder storm, which I enjoyed thoroughly but wasn't exactly conducive to sleep, propelled me out of bed a little more quickly than normal.  But I digress.)


So first stop?  The bank, the bank, the bankety bank.  I hate this bank. The tellers are all a hundred years old and have reallyyyyyyyyyy strong  nasally New York accents.  I'm always suuuuuuper polite and suuuuper friendly (almost obnoxiously so, if I'm being totally truthful) and they do not appreciate it at all.  They pucker their lips, glare at the fact that I folded the check (which I always do... hee hee), spend an unnecessarily long amount of time violently trying to get the fold out of the center of the check BUT NEVER ASK ME TO NOT FOLD THE CHECK EVEN THOUGH I DO IT EVERY TIME... passive aggressive much, bitches? while I blather on and on about whatever subject strikes my fancy while they ignore me.  They then hand me my receipt and intone, "Here's your receipt, have a nice day..." to which I reply, as perkily and delightfully as I possibly can,  "Awesome!!!  Thank you!!!"  and I skip merrily out the door and back to my car.


Yesterday was different because when I got to my car, one of Norwood's Finest was parked behind me in his slate gray police car.  (I'm pretty sure they're messing with me because police cars are not supposed to be slate gray.  It reminds me of Oregon, where they're brown.  These are not acceptable colors for law enforcement vehicles, people!  Work with me, here!!)  My first thought was, of course, "Oh shit... they caught me!" because even though I rarely (if ever) break the law, I'm always positive I'm only one step ahead of the fuzz.  I've gotten exactly one ticket in my entire life and have never gotten arrested or accused of a crime or even questioned by the law and yet I always feel like I'm on the lam.  So when I saw a copper hovering around by the back of my car I got a little sweaty.


Time to dazzle them with brilliance and baffle them with bullshit, y'all.  (Words to live by, according to Cosmo, circa 1978.  It's been my mantra ever since 8th grade.)  


Me:  *smiling brightly, thankful I use Crest White Strips*  "Hi!"


Cop:  *ridiculously tall and handsome... mmmmmm*  "Good morning!  I was noticing your plates.  Are you from California?"


Me:  *biting back 700 smart-assed replies*  "Yes!" (Because being from California, in and of itself, is a wonderful, wonderful thing.)  


Cop:  "Yep, we don't see many California plates up here!  Are you visiting or did you move here?"


Me: *pondering if the truth or a lie would better serve my purposes*  "We just moved here."


Cop:  "Well, welcome to the Nawth Country!  You need to get your vehicles registered, okay?"


Me:  "They are.  My plates are in the car."


Cop:  "Why haven't you replaced your California plates with your New York plates?"


Me:  


Cop:  


Me:  "Because I don't want to."


Cop:


Me:


Cop:  "Well, can't say I blame you but get it done, okay?  I don't want to have to give you a ticket."


Me:  *gushing*  "You're awesome!  Thank you!"


Cop:  *looking startled*  "Uh... ummmm... have a nice day!"


And off I toodled to my next destination, the grocery store.


This was the day, I determined, that I would make that bitter old biddy who works at the Big M like me. (Back off, Sally Fields... this one's MINE.)  I gathered my purchases in the itty bitty double-decker shopping cart and made my way to the cashier.  Being the only one in line gave me the opportunity to talk her ear off.


Me:  "LOVED that thunder storm last night!  Oh my God, I mean, it was AWESOME!  My dogs weren't super happy about it but I thought it was fabulous!"


Her:  *scanning groceries*


Me:  "I'm totally not used to electrical storms like that!  I mean, once in a while we would get them but not with the thunder and lightning all back to back and on top of eachother and stuff.  SO cool."


Her:  *scanning my groceries*


Me:  "I'm not a giant fan of the heat and humidity but I'm rilllyyyyy looking forward to fall.  I'll bet it's sooooo gorgeous and the colors are insane!  I know I'm the exception to the rule but I can't wait for the first snow storm!"


Her:  "That'll be $57.06."


Me:  "Super cool!  Here you go!"


Her:  *handing me back my change*  "Here's your receipt.  Have a good day."


Me:  "Awesome!  Rock on, sunshine!"


Her:  *glare*


Okay, so that didn't work.  


I'm going back today because I forgot to buy toilet paper.  I'll get her this time.


That bitch is MINE.

DMV Bitches

I finally sucked it up and got my New York drivers license yesterday.  Silly as it sounds, I held back tears while I made the drive to the DMV, feeling pathetic and homeless as I drove the unfamiliar terrain, perking up only when I passed an Amish buggy on the highway.  (Seriously... never gets old.)  


(Sidebar:  It took me about 10 minutes of driving down the same road, back and forth past the building where the DMV was supposed to be, until I finally figured out that The Department Of Human Resources is the DMV.  Come ON, New York... Why must you work so hard to piss me off?)


After virtually no waiting (I know, right?) I approached the DMV person (Teller?  Checker?  Cashier?  They're behind a window and take money... WTF are they called?) and informed her I needed to get my NY driver's license.


Her:  "Have you ever had a license in New York before?"


Me:  "No."


Her:  *looking at me in disbelief*  "Never?"


Me:  "Ummm, no?  Is that a problem?"


Her:  "Well, you need to schedule an appointment and take the test..."


Me:  "I just moved here from California.  I need to get a New York driver's license.  I didn't say I needed to get A driver's license.  I just need it to be a NEW YORK license,"


Her: *for some reason immediately becoming pissy*  "Do you have your birth certificate and 600 pieces of ID?"  


(Okay, so she didn't ask for 600, but OMG... I needed my birth certificate, my CA license, my SS card, two credit cards with my name on them, a bank statement with my name on it, and a utility bill with my name on it.  Trust me, people. I don't want to live here that badly.  It's a good thing I do my research and came prepared.)


Me:  *as I emptied out my wallet and handed her everything in it*  "Anything else?  First born son?  Right arm?  A mention in my will?"


Her:  *ignoring me and not even slightly amused*


Bitch.


Forty-five freaking minutes later, I was eye-tested, fingerprinted, signatured, and photographed.  When she handed me back all of my forms of identification, something was missing.


Me:  "Can I have my CA driver's license back?"


Her:  *not even looking at me*  "Nope."


Me:  "Why not?"


Her:  "Because we have to confiscate them."


Me:  "And do what with them?"


Her:  "Turn them over."


Me:  "That's dumb.  Like what, it's gonna be reissued?"


Her:  *staring me down*


Me:  *persistent as hell*  "How about you just punch a hole in it or write "not valid" on it?


Her:  "No."


Me:  


Her:


Me:  "Can I keep my CA license plate on the front of my car and just put the New York plate on the back?"


Her:  *looking like she wanted me dead*  "No."


Me:  "Can I get a vanity plate and just have them put CALIFORNIA on the New York plate?"


Her:


Me:


Her:  


Me:  


Fine.  I left, feeling robbed of the essence of my California-ness.


I'm pretty sure that when a bird flew into my windshield and died while I was driving home, it was an OMEN.  


Of what, I have no idea... but I'll bet it's BAD.


They should have given me back my license, yo.