After 10 business days had passed and I hadn’t received my license, I gave the DMV a call. The automated message said it could take up to SIX WEEKS for processing, and that you could speak to a technician if it had been longer than that. Six weeks? Ok fine. It is a government agency, after all. Why would I think efficiency would be involved?

Today I called again because it’s been six weeks and still I have no license. A very helpful and friendly lady told me they couldn’t process my new license because they needed a new picture.

I’ll wait while you read that sentence again.

A new picture, you ask? Like the one I specifically REQUESTED before walking out of the building SIX MOTHEREFFING WEEKS AGO?! Yeah. Apparently they couldn’t use my old picture and need a new one. Great. I asked if they were ever going to let me know, or if they were just going to wait until I eventually called them. “We were waiting for you to eventually call us,” she says laughing. I told her I thought that was stupid. “Honey, you don’t have to tell me about the stupid things we do around here. Trust me.” She was nice, and I wasn’t mad at her because I knew it wasn’t her fault. She clearly had a sense of humor and knew that they had some really bad policies going on.

So now I have to schedule another appointment to go to the DMV to take a picture. Then I get to wait three more weeks before my license shows up (three weeks is the EXPEDITED time frame, mind you). In the meanwhile, my bank has already sent me a new credit card since mine expired in January. They’ve changed my name on it, so now I have no ID to match the card. Awesome. I’m really hoping that any retail stores who want to see my ID are either employing people who don’t pay attention (hi Party City!), or employing people who’ve had to change their names before and understand that crap that goes with it.

A few nights ago there was a search phrase which I found sorta odd, so I clicked on it. I saw my blog came up as the first hit as a post I'd written about my birthday last year, and there were three other links below it. Imagine my surprise when the last link looked exactly like mine. I clicked it and was shocked to find that someone had stolen my words and posted them as their own. A few minor details had been changed, but it was still blatantly stolen from my own blog. At first I was speechless. I just sorta stared and tried to figure out why someone would do it. It's not like it was stolen and used for an article, but rather stolen and used as a personal blog post. What's the point of that? A personal blog is there to express how YOU feel, not to steal the words of others and post them as your own. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. I mentally wrote and rewrote nasty e-mails demanding that the post be removed. I finally settled on a polite but firm message to the author asking them to remove the post immediately. 

It's a few days later and the offending post is still there. Technically, there is nothing I can do, as my blog is not copyright protected. But it seems that common courtesy should prevail in such a situation, and the post should be removed, yes?

UPDATE: Not only has the post been removed, but the blogger cancelled their entire account. I'd rather they had kept it and written from the heart, but if this is better for them, so be it.

Seriously though, I really do come up with great things to talk about while I'm driving. I'm very much considering getting some sort of recording device to document my driving genius, and then I can come home and put down the crazy thoughts that run through my head while left to my own devices. I have a TypePad application on my phone, but since California just outlawed texting while driving (which makes FAR more sense to me than requiring a hands free device to talk on the phone. But I'll cover that in a minute.) I doubt the cop who busts me would see the distinction between texting someone and typing up a blog post while driving.

Sidenote: Anyone from California know if it's also illegal now to use GPS units while driving? Because I know I can drive and text better than 90% of people who try and look for directions while driving.

So, last July California made the switch to hands-free only cell phone usage while driving. And for some unknown reason, I have not written about this in the past, so I'll share my thoughts now.

It's dumb.

Yes, it's important to be safe while driving. Thirty bazillion drivers get into accidents every year, and some of them get hurt or killed, and even worse, some innocent passenger or driver of another vehicle gets hurt or killed due to Driver A's stupidity. However, is the person talking on the phone via headset much safer than the person talking via phone in their hand? My argument is not that cell phone usage doesn't cause accidents. My argument is that STUPID PEOPLE cause accidents, regardless of where the phone is (if it's even involved at all). The woman trying to put on mascara while doing 80 mph down the freeway is far more dangerous, in my opinion, than I am talking on the phone. I am at least looking at the road that I'm driving on, rather than looking into a mirror while shoving a stick into my eye. How about the guy reading the newspaper while he's doing 75 mph? Shouldn't that be illegal?

Before anyone does an archive search and calls me a hypocrite (on this particular issue), I will admit that I have indeed read books on my way home from work. However, I was literally crawling down the freeway at a maximum of 10 mph, and was holding the book on the steering wheel to limit the amount of looking away from the road I'd have to do. Any speeds faster than 10 mph, and my book was closed and on the seat next to me while I drove. Admittedly, it's not safe and if they outlawed it, I'd completely understand. I do not, however, understand the hands free only law.

Proponents of the hands free law say that talking on the phone while driving is a distraction. Ok, let's go with that (however, they don't think that talking to the passengers in your car is also a distraction. Odd, since they're both completely comprised of TALKING TO PEOPLE). Explain to me then how talking on the phone via headset is less distracting than talking on the phone in your hand. Both consist of the aforementioned talking, and one has the added bonus of a hand off the wheel. Ok, so by that logic (or illogic) people should not be allowed to talk to passengers and change the radio station at the same time, as it requires a hand off the wheel. People should not be allowed to eat in their cars while driving as it requires both the mouth moving and the hand off wheel. (Though I do eat while driving, I am not opposed to a law making it illegal. Just because I am capable of doing it without presenting a danger to society does not mean the general population is.) Not texting while driving is a law that makes sense to me. Not holding up a phone while driving does not.

So what is the rule in your state? And do you agree with it?

I completely identify with that sentiment. It sounds harsh and mean and rude, but it’s totally how I feel. I have very few close friends, a few more friendly acquaintances, but you could probably count both groups on two hands. I know that it’s my choice, and that I am probably missing out on some great people. I’d rather have a few really great friends than a ton of semi-ok friends. Quality over quantity, you know?

Sometimes people just drive me crazy. There’s one specific clock watcher at work who I often want to punch in the head (figuratively speaking). 15 minutes before their shift is over, they’ve completely packed up their things and are ready to walk out the door. 5 minutes before their shift is over, the computer screen is off, and they’re standing inside their cube, holding their car keys, waiting to bolt out the front door. Every. Single. Day. Overtime? HAHAHA! Not a cold chance in hell. I’m here late almost every single night. Sometimes 30 minutes, sometimes a few hours. I never watch the clock. I also come in late in the morning, and that arrangement works for me (and my bosses). The other afternoon, Clock Watcher worked exactly 15 minutes past the end of their shift. FIFTEEN WHOLE MINUTES! The way CW carried on, you’d think the cure for cancer had been found! CW made it sound like it was quite the accomplishment (though with the amount of Clock Watchers we have here, I’d say that’s almost true). It’s little things like that which bother me, and I know they shouldn’t. CW got a big pat on the back and thanks for all the extra work because they stayed 15 minutes late. I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s that big a deal. Sometimes you need to go above and beyond for your job, especially when they treat us as well as they do. 15 minutes here or there shouldn’t be a reason to bake a cake and have a parade. Color me bitter, but that’s how I feel.

No, I’m not kidding. We have one of those stucco ceilings that all apartment complexes have, because they’re cheap.  A small chunk of the stucco just floated down to the floor as I sat there watching the television. Why did my ceiling fall? Funny you should ask that. The apartment above us has recently been inhabited by large thundering elephants.

We used to live under Two Ton Tina. She was a very large black woman that would rattle the pictures on my wall when she walked up the stairs. She was a very, very nice woman, which is why I never complained about her. Although she didn’t move around much, she was pretty loud when she did. She was nothing, however, compared to the new upstairs residents. They’re unbelievable. The only time that place is quiet is when they’re not home. I can tell exactly where in the apartment they are just by the noise their steps make. I’ve seen a couple people that may or may not live there (it seems they’re fond of gatherings), and no one looks heavy enough to cause the amount of rumbling that they cause. It’s almost like they’re afraid the carpet is going to suddenly spring up and whack them in the face, and they’re stamping it down as a preventative measure.

So how do I handle it? Do I march up there (potentially destroying more of my own ceiling) and demand they return the elephants to the circus, and resume walking like normal humans? Do I bake them some laxative-laced brownies and hope they spend the rest of their existence on the toilet, rather than tromping around the apartment? I think I’ll try calling the front office about it. Not to tattle on them, but to ask if maybe a letter can be sent to the entire complex reminding people of general courtesies. Yanno, things like not driving through the parking lot at 4am with your radio blaring, and picking up after your mangy little mutt when she poops right in the center of the steps to my apartment.

We’re getting a new dresser that matches our bedroom set. We already have the King Bed and two nightstands. My parents bought us the dresser as 1/2 my graduation gift, 1/2 our anniversary gift.

The problem is that we already have 7 dressers in the house. Yes, seven. As in one more than 6 and one less than 8. Why do we need 7, you ask? Well, perhaps that question should be best directed to my dearest darling packrat husband. One is a tiny little 4 drawer dresser, that I got from Target to fit in my closet. One is a larger wood thing of Jason’s that is in the closet in the Bombroom, filled with old baseball cards, I think. Two of the dressers come with matching bookcases, and were made by hand by his grandfather. I’m 110% ok with keeping those. They should probably be refinished at some point in the near future, but they look just fine right now. Three other dressers are a set, and I think were possibly made by his step dad, but I can’t say for sure. They were nice, once upon a time. They matched the old bed we had. But they’ve been moved several times, some of the drawers don’t close, and they’re just not in the best shape anymore. I’ve been wanting to get rid of them for a long time. So when my parents told us they were getting the dresser for us, I was ecstatic. We could get rid of not one, but TWO dressers, since the new one won’t fit in our room without removing both dressers currently in there. HOORAY!

Except no.

Mr. Packrat doesn’t want to get rid of both dressers. He only wants to get rid of one. Why? Because he thinks he needs the room for his clothes. He has a lot of clothes, I’ll give him that. But I swear 60% of them haven’t been worn in YEARS. They’re in bags, or in drawers, or laying in a pile in the Bombroom. I’d be willing to bet that most of them are not in wearable condition, don’t fit, or aren’t to his current tastes. I would guess that if we bagged them all up, it would be a good 6-8 hefty duty trash bags full of clothes to give away. But no, he wants to keep them. Fine. THEN PUT THEM IN A DRAWER!

So we need to clean the Bombroom out to make room for one of the dressers coming out of our room. It’s a daunting task. I’ve done a lot of it. I should be doing more. But my couch is so comfy. And Netflix delivered 3 new movies today! And the Wii, well, the Wii just won’t take no for an answer. It sits and stares at you until you just HAVE to turn it on. Like now… 

It IS possible for a female to feel sick in the morning and NOT be pregnant.

(I’ll wait while you process that mind-boggling information)

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a woman can have morning sickness and not have a bun in the oven. You know what? She can also be exhausted AND have morning sickness and still not be pregnant. I KNOW!! Call Guinness! Alert the press!

I have had morning sickness for going on 8 years now. Yes, Internet, 8 years. It’s not everyday. But 3-4 times a week I wake up and my body feels the need to pray to the porcelain god. Some days it’s just slight nausea, which I can deal with. Other days I get the backwards version of whatever I ate the night before. It’s charming. Really. And yet every time I tell someone I was sick that morning, I get the "Oh, are you pregnant?" complete with raised eyebrows and knowing look. Um, no. Wasn’t pregnant yesterday when you asked. Wasn’t pregnant 3 months ago when you asked. Wasn’t pregnant TWO YEARS ago when you asked. Trust me, when I finally get pregnant, I’ll be shouting it from the rooftops. Until that time, let’s just all assume I’M NOT FUCKING PREGNANT!

Thank you and have a nice day!