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Yellow tastes like cold water
Jan. 3rd, 2007 02:50 pmI now have the car. Sales tax is paid, license tabs and plates gotten and paid for, title transferred (thanks to the auditor dude that looked an awful lot like a downtrodden and sedated Count Olaf), city sticker purchased and applied, etc. etc. etc.
I only spent 32 minutes at the DMV.
Well, we had originally arrived at 8:30AM, because the website said that's when they were open, but really, it was 10 o'clock that was indicated on the sign, so my mom and I drove all up and down Elston and Milwaukee looking for a damned diner.
Which we did. Thanks, Kappy's, you were cozy and wonderful. Well, except for the fact that apparently the sugar dispenser was topped with table salt, so I was not able to shock my system into wakefulness until we'd swapped out both coffee mug full of briny ughhhhh and the dispenser for something a bit more drinkable. We both had the same thing, some house special skillet that was all portabello mushroom and bacon and spinach and potato and scrambled egg and Swiss cheese, and I have leftovers from that which I will eat as soon as I finish typing this.
We got back just in time to stand in line outside the DMV for about ten minutes and get our stuff done so quickly that we high-fived at the exit doors, and sort of giggled to ourselves that maybe we'd gotten away with something illegal.
All the paperwork and identifying and verifying is such bull, but what I realized as we drove through noontime sunshine was that not once did anyone check my drivers license or actually ask to see the proof of insurance fax. Not once. Man, we so could've just, I dunno, registered that car to anyone, really.
But no, it's mine. The freedom and sleek shininess with the V6 engine and the nightmare of searching for a parking space, etc. etc. But the insurance is paid up through July, and when I pulled onto my street, I didn't even have to parallel park, because everyone's cars were gone. It was just that much easier to grab my Mitsuwa haul out of the trunk. Pocky and mochi and little strange candies and wasabi peas and rice cakes.
Oh, and then I just got an e-mail which included this text:
Ha, I so win. That's a lot of chocolate, though.
I only spent 32 minutes at the DMV.
Well, we had originally arrived at 8:30AM, because the website said that's when they were open, but really, it was 10 o'clock that was indicated on the sign, so my mom and I drove all up and down Elston and Milwaukee looking for a damned diner.
Which we did. Thanks, Kappy's, you were cozy and wonderful. Well, except for the fact that apparently the sugar dispenser was topped with table salt, so I was not able to shock my system into wakefulness until we'd swapped out both coffee mug full of briny ughhhhh and the dispenser for something a bit more drinkable. We both had the same thing, some house special skillet that was all portabello mushroom and bacon and spinach and potato and scrambled egg and Swiss cheese, and I have leftovers from that which I will eat as soon as I finish typing this.
We got back just in time to stand in line outside the DMV for about ten minutes and get our stuff done so quickly that we high-fived at the exit doors, and sort of giggled to ourselves that maybe we'd gotten away with something illegal.
All the paperwork and identifying and verifying is such bull, but what I realized as we drove through noontime sunshine was that not once did anyone check my drivers license or actually ask to see the proof of insurance fax. Not once. Man, we so could've just, I dunno, registered that car to anyone, really.
But no, it's mine. The freedom and sleek shininess with the V6 engine and the nightmare of searching for a parking space, etc. etc. But the insurance is paid up through July, and when I pulled onto my street, I didn't even have to parallel park, because everyone's cars were gone. It was just that much easier to grab my Mitsuwa haul out of the trunk. Pocky and mochi and little strange candies and wasabi peas and rice cakes.
Oh, and then I just got an e-mail which included this text:
You are the Grand-Prize winner of the Sheer indulgence Get This promotion!
You won chocolate for a year (one pound of chocolate sent to you every
month for a year).
Ha, I so win. That's a lot of chocolate, though.
