Dept of Mental Violence

So, yes, it is my own fault for waiting a bit long to deal with my car registration. I admit that. I knew it would expire at the end of this month, but for some reason, I could not mentally prepare myself to sort through the rigamorale involved in registering in a new state and finding the DMV and etc etc. But you know, time is running out and May is almost a flicker in June's eye and I think they give you tickets if your tags are expired and etc etc.

So today, after a mindblowingly wonderful weekend, I made the mistake of going to the Beltsville MD Department of Motor Vehicles (hi google search peeps looking for info -- much like the DMV itself, you will not find it here!). I'm gonna give a shoutout to the 3491 other people who were there with me and who are quite possibly still waiting for their number to be called. Holla! (ps. Confidential to the lady in front of me in the mile long line for the Information boothwho was talking to her friend: You are correct in your assessment that joining a gym would be a good idea since you haven't lost those pounds from having the baby, that your book sales could be higher, that your friend should dump whatshisname, and that you should have renewed online).

I got out relatively quickly, only forty five minutes. Why, you ask? Well, the line for the information booth/gatekeeper ladies moved relatively quickly and it only took me forty five minutes to get through it and learn that it would take weeks and a special form to get my title from the lien company and another visit to get all the shit in order once I got a call from "someone at the DMV". In other words, one must trust a system that appears inherently and bureaucratically crazy-making.

Generally, I trust people. Ok, that's not entirely true. I trust some, but also, as my hero Ronald Regan once said, verify. Actually, that's not really true either. He wasn't my hero. Oh who cares? The point is: I found it infinitely easier/faster to lie and renew my shit back home and have it sent to a friend's house to be mailed to me than to deal with Maryland. But (disclaimer for any LEO types and/or DMV employees looking to fuck with me), I am only doing that temporarily until I have established permanent residency here and you know, it is possible I may move back eventually and it's not really lying about where I am living, it's simply suggesting that it is fucking easier to deal with the bureacracy that you know than the bureacracy that you don't. Thus, dear Maryland and your crabby DMV, I will put off anything official until I am mentally able to handle another visit to your insane-making factory. Let's give it another year, yeah?

ps. Wish me luck while I drive on expired plates later this week. And if you must, feel free to tell me I Told You So when/if I get a ticket and hauled off to jail or and waterboarded. Or whatever it is they do to you in this damn state.

pps. The sangria tasted like heaven.