Mindless Incoherent Ramblings Revolving On Random Stuff
Monday, 23 June 2008
DMV Bingo!
The screen said B145.The little ticket I held in my sweaty hands had B146 printed on it in vivid green ink.Surely it had to be my turn next.“G029 now being helped at window 18.”I stared at the television monitor in disbelief.What kind of foreign alphabet do the people at the DMV use?G does not come directly after B, and 029 most certainly does not follow 145.Where was my damn B146!?All I needed was B146 to make my way down to window 15 like a winner.
Three hours earlier I was allowed to leave work for the afternoon in order to register my car at the DMV, which I had yet to do, even though my plates expire in less than a week.
I’ve been driving with Illinois plates since I moved to this state nearly three years ago.All the while, the title to my car was held mostly by my mother (she was the co-signer on the loan back when my credit score was 389 – yes, it can go that low).
Finding the DMV was a hassle in itself.I tried to find one between my work and apartment, just in case there wasn’t a line and I could make it back to work only a little late from a lunch break!I ended up driving in circles, literally smashing my head against the steering wheel only to end up lost and the target of unwanted, curious stares from other drivers.
When I finally figured out where the DMV was located, I parked a bazillion miles away and hiked to the office, where I stood in line for 20 minutes before briefly talking to a lady who shoved a clipboard filled with forms in my face and instructed, “Go park your car outside for inspection.”With my tail between my legs, I shuffled out to the parking lot and did 27 laps before finding a space for my car that was marked, “inspection”.In the 90 degree heat I sat, and waited... and waited...and waited some more until my aggravation got the best of me and I charged back inside, stood in line another 20 minutes all the while reminding myself to be calm.
Red faced (from the heat and utter annoyance) I sternly marched back up to the desk and did my best to politely inform the lady that my car had not been inspected.She peered out toward the parking lot from over her glasses, and then glanced back at me.“Did you lift your hood?” she mocked, as if I was retarded for not knowing that I had to have the hood raised.“No...” I almost cried, as she told me there was no way they’d know I needed an inspection unless I had my hood up!So defeated once again, I trudged back to my car, popped the hood and waited for someone to look at my insides.
When the defiling of my dusty and decayed 99’ Grand Am was finished, I crawled back inside the DMV, waited in another line that seemed to have cloned itself and was now twice as long, only to receive that dreaded B146.I should have brought a book, or an entire encyclopedia.
Just shy of closing, my number finally flashed on the screen.All the way in the back, I was stuck with the “by the book” lady who told me that I owed $350 in penalties for driving my car unregistered in California.She pointed with a pencil at the line that says, “Persons must register their vehicle when they become a resident of the state”.I laughed a little, knowing that I most certainly had not been a resident, and the proof was in the $8,000 per semester tuition and fees I was paying at San Diego State University.She snatched the debit card right out of my hands while boldly telling me that the DMV did not care what SDSU considered my residency status, and admitted that I should be thankful she wasn’t charging me fees from as far back as December of 2005.Yes, thank you for making rent this month practically impossible.
The rent I get to pay on my pricey, spider-infested apartment (I killed another yesterday hiding in my DVDs) that appeared to be built on a lake, which is another whiney rant completely.
A few days ago I noticed some wetness on the carpet adjacent to my kitchen.I’ve been very careful and clean since moving in a few months ago, so the idea of a spill caught me off guard.A bit displeased with myself, I shrugged it off and soaked up the mess.A couple days later, the puddle in my carpet was still there, and now had a partner half its size.How the hell was water managing to make its way to m carpet, with no clear trail back to any pipes?So I called the maintenance man who happened to be a huge MMO player and informed me that my company apparently sells “crack” while he took a look at what was going on with my mysterious water.
A crumbled wall and mutilated carpet later, my leak was found and fixed!But I had to spend the weekend with a professional blower drying my carpets, which ended up looking like a desert sand dune in my dining room.They’re finishing up the rest on Wednesday.
Tami forced me to. She verbally threatened me in IMs. I have to agree with her though, this is definitely the best free "make over" program I have come across. Of course, I've only used one other and that was half a decade ago...
It’s official.I’m a college graduate.My post-consumer recycled paper says so!
Before my SDSU days were officially over, I spent Cinco de Mayo like any other good college student would...studying in the library (I don’t miss those days yet!)On my 30 minute commute home, I picked up some Mexican food and then laid my foot on the pedal so I could make it to Rancho Bernardo before my deliciousness got cold.
I left a long line of cars in the dust as I drove a cool 80 mph west bound on the 8, rocking out to some Portishead on the radio (anything is possible!)I rolled my eyes at the idiots who obeyed the traffic laws as I zoomed past.In my rearview I noticed someone driving so close that their headlights nearly blinded me.Barely out of my musical trance, I hardly had the chance to wonder why they weren’t passing me when I saw the red and blue lights go on.I eventually made my way to the side of the freeway and rolled down my passenger window (I learned from my previous pullover).Officer Miller didn’t even allow me the usual questions of, “Do you know why I pulled you over?”He simply stated that I was speeding and he needed to see my license and registration.
I forked them over and reached for my enchilada while he examined the documents.“Dammit,” I exclaimed upon opening the styrofoam container, “They gave me a tostada instead.”
Officer Miller looked up and asked me, “Where are you coming from?”I quickly replied, “The taco shop.”He then inquired, “Where are you headed?”I rethought my answer, ignoring what he had just asked and responded, “Well, I guess I was actually coming from school.That’s where I was before I stopped to get enchiladas that turned out to be tostadas.”
He stuck his head in the car a bit and with a raised eyebrow he probed, “Have you been drinking?”I was completely caught off guard and laughed, “Do you think I am drunk!?”He looked even more puzzled as he backed away and explained, “Well, it is Cinco de Mayo.”I informed him that it was also final’s week.
He gave me a ticket, which in total, ended up costing me $196. When I asked what it would take to not get pulled over again, he smiled sarcastically, “Don’t speed.” I mentioned that could be a problem, and might benefit from some friendly insider knowledge. He claimed police officers wouldn’t turn on the sirens until someone was doing 70 mph. I called bullshit and he agreed that really, going over 75 definitely put a driver in ticket territory. So it’s now my honest defense. Don’t try and give me a ticket for going 10 over the speed limit. You can take your quarrels up with Officer Miller!
I re-fastened my seatbelt and started my car as the police man cautioned me to pick up speed before re-entering traffic.I grinned as I rolled up my window and stated, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem!”
So in an effort to have the ticket erased from my record, I enrolled in traffic school and spent a few Saturday hours completing a course where I learned a lot.
Sample questions and statements from the test:
Mandatory driver license suspension period to ten months for persons convicted of a first offense of DUI if the individual's blood alcohol concentration level was .20% or greater. My BAC was .11% on New Years.I lasted approximately 3 minutes after the stroke of midnight and found my way to the nearest bed where I remained face down for hours before someone else drove me home.I think people who drive with .20% should be in jail for ever and ever.
Effective January 1, 2007 CVC 21712 states it is a misdemeanor violation for any driver to knowingly permit a person to ride in the trunk of a vehicle. Additionally, any passenger found guilty of riding in the trunk is guilty of an infraction. I don’t know about you guys, but if I’m locked in a trunk I think a ticket is the least of my problems.
The DMV has some advice for you:Don’t honk your horn or curse at people who drive like idiots, “This will help prevent collisions and make driving more pleasant.”
Warning to all those who consume alcohol:“You are putting yourself at risk for suicide, simply by drinking.”
Seriously.The bolded selections were really available answers on the test.
There are several things needed to register a vehicle in California. Select the one that DOES NOT fit.
A: Blah. B: Blah. C: Blah.
D: Written permission from your spouse to drive the vehicle
Where would you go to get a duplicate of your driver license if you lose it or it is damaged?
A:The DMV. B:The police station. C:Your insurance company. D:The person who makes the best fake ID's.
Which is NOT an alternative to driving to work?
A:Biking B:Carpooling C:Public transit
D: Swimming
Warning to all those who consume alcohol:“You are putting yourself at risk for suicide, simply by drinking.”
And for the record, I know have a roommate. Everyone knows it can be really difficult living with others, so I'm not ashamed to admit that I murdered them the first day they put their eight little legs in my apartment.
So I’m a college graduate, for the second (and probably not final) time.I passed all my classes with at least a B, and it seems my worry was for nothing (as usual).
I’ve spent the last week visiting with family, and accepting cards containing heartfelt congratulations.It felt silly receiving such sentimental notes from people who have surrounded me my entire life.I joked that instead of the traditional sweetness sent in Hallmark cards, they should have given me something that read, “Jesus, who would have thought 10 years ago that you would have ever graduated college?!”I tease, and thank those who have known me and what I have endured, and who help me celebrate this milestone in my life.
I guess now’s the “when I grow up” time, though I’m considering stalling yet again, and heading off to graduate school (not before I read the half-dozen novels I picked up last week – 1 down, 5 to go!)It was such a triumphant feeling, parading into Barnes & Nobel, being able to buy books at my discretion and start reading things that only my imagination would test me on.
I’m thinking that my personal blogging days might be coming to an end, or at least a lengthy break.I haven’t been overly excited with Angelfire for quite some time, and I think my subscription ran out about a month ago.Ranting, swooning, or laughing over drinks with a friend seems more enjoyable than sarcastically recounting my day in Word.And jotting my personal thoughts down in a lined notebook will prove to be much more cost effective (plus, I think my hands will miss all the note taking!)
It’s been a gruesome few weeks.I have a horrible case of senioritis (wow, that’s a real word?) and the effects could possibly be devastating.I’ve missed more classes than I’m willing to admit online, but it’s difficult to convince myself at 7:00 am that driving an hour in traffic to class is a better decision than staying in bed for another two, tucked in warmly under the covers.
I’ve officially made the move to my new place.Although I’ve been living here for a few weeks, in traditional Julie fashion, I waited until the very last minute to clean out my old apartment.I spent the entire day in La Mesa practicing kung-fu on unsuspecting pieces of unwanted furniture, kicking legs off of tables and tearing apart desks and other unwanted items.My brother and I piled an interesting collection of trash into our two dumpsters (I figured it was only fair, since our trash, sewer and water bill this month exceed $160 – but that’s a rant I’ll save for another day).I’m happy to report that the same utilities in my new place came to a total of eleven dollars and sixteen cents.
The new place is wonderful and I’ve even managed to adopt a little lucky bamboo plant and haven’t managed to kill it yet.I would proudly post some pictures of my Ikea adorned apartment, but there are still unpacked boxes littering the living room.
I happened to be found via MySpace by my husband.Really.We were married in preschool.He asked if this meant that he could receive back pay from all the alimony he forked over to his ex-wife – I don’t think it would hold up in court though.He was probably my first real internet friend, as we officially met for the second time while playing Doom together on a site called H2H.He was a gaming God, and claims that’s why I spent so much time swooning over him as a teenager.He’s probably right.Things might be rekindled if only he could level his Warrior to 70.But alas, he has two jobs and stuff, so I doubt he’ll be raiding of winning my affection any time soon!
Not too long ago I went to a rock show with my best buddy, Chris.He’s such a trooper, and the only one willing to tag along with me at a rock show where we’re likely to be the oldest people there.I got a chance to meet some of the band members, who were casually hanging out by the bar and looked barely old enough to drink.I picked up a couple band t-shirts as always, and probably wear them more than I wash them.
Tomorrow we’re heading out for a delicious (I hope!) steak dinner to celebrate a few birthdays.Tami had hers on Tuesday, and Chris will be enjoying his on Monday.
I doubt I’ll be writing anything else until finals are over.The next time I type to this page I will be boasting my college degree!(Let’s hope that doesn’t mean I won’t be posting until after Summer school is over...)
I am really bad at alcohol. Not that I was ever good at it, but it seems I’ve been spoiled by house parties with good company and good beer, therefore avoiding excess drinking of hard liquors.Not that I consume a grandiose amount of alcohol, the two drinks I had were definitely in excess of my own personal limit.
There’s a bar very close to my house (within walking distance) that serves up drinks which require you to sip them in shots with your nose plugged.Last night all I really wanted was a frozen strawberry and mango margarita.The bar doesn’t serve those, but they gave me the closest thing!What worried me, was when I walked away from the bar – drink in hand – and a guy of Mexican descent asked me what I was drinking.He looked frighteningly surprised when I told him it was a margarita.That should have been my first warning.
I called an ex again last night.He only answered to remind me that it was 3:49 in the morning for him, and then reiterated his delight in text form:“I don’t hate you, Julie.I just choose not to talk to you; especially at 3:49 am.”He hates it when I call him.Especially when I am drunk, but the first doesn’t happen that often, and lately the second hasn’t either.I’m never mean (unless you count the calling at 4 am his time mean.)I’m never lustful.I’m always just excited by the fact that for some delirious reason, I get it into my head that he’s finally willing to mend old wounds, and will openly accept silly IM’s about my work day, or a random call on the weekend when I’ve drank my way to good intentions.
I don’t even know if that was the low point of the evening!I managed to win every pool game, but gave the table up quite a few times to give others a chance to play.I came home and proved to my friends online that I can type 119 wpm (kjas kawr are both legible words when you are intoxicated!)
Surprisingly I’m not hung-over, though succumbing to alcohol induced sickness would be a good excuse not to pack up the items remaining in my apartment.I am determined to do it today though. I insist on breaking the procrastination by bringing my computer to the new apartment and setting up my craptastic DSL.
On a complete side note:I had a dream I was out running a pyroclastic flow, though the volcano was covered in snow and you’d think realistically blowing its top off would result in a lahar.Either way, the image and feeling of navigating my 00’ Grand Am across the mountainous terrain was oddly exhilarating.If this whole Community Manager thing doesn’t work out, I’m so becoming a vulcanist.
So today marks the fourth year that I’ve been pecking away at the keyboard and posting my bitter banter in online form.I don’t know if this is a celebrated milestone, or if I should really get my head checked for spending ridiculous amounts of time over the years sharing my innermost thoughts with complete strangers who only happen across my delirious monologues because they’re searching for pixel porn.
I’ve often thought about breaking up with my blog, and moving on to greener pastures such as intellectually stimulating political discourse, or possibly even doin’ it old style, with a pen and notebook.What it really comes down to is I like blogging.I don’t have to be as honest as I’d sometimes let myself be when recording my thoughts between two blue lines on recycled paper.I can embellish the silly details of my day to day life, and not worry about killing trees in the process or creating ungodly controversy with my haughty opinions.
It seems that everyday I find myself in an amusing situation that can only be perfectly explored through the use of endless adjectives in an online blog.(Is that redundant?)So much has been going on lately, but I haven’t created the time to sit computer-side and unleash my life into MSWord.
I’ve been preparing myself for graduation (or an endless college career, depending on my grades this semester), playing a lot of video games (and enjoying them), and discovering the wonders of biscuits and cheese.
I spent a weekend evening at an English pub, where I treated myself to Bangers and Mash, along with a cold scotch egg.Over a few white russians (we’re a cultured group!) I reminisced about my old “bloke” of a boyfriend who was from abroad.He wrote me love letters, was devilishly handsome, had an amazing accent, and a wife that I really didn’t know about.
I spent most of the evening parading around asking anyone on a dare if they were English.My luck wasn’t so hot, but this tattooed mystery man was!My friends and I collectively decided he was a gigolo.He was rough, tough, stubbly, and well dressed.It turns out, his story for the night included him being a weapon expert, teaching SWAT teams how to use advanced weapons.My friends rolled their eyes and headed back inside when he began to tell me about how he adopted an injured dog found in the dumpster 8 years ago.If time has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t be left alone with bar boys and be expected to make good decisions, so I followed my friends back to our seats with a sigh.
I’m hoping to be living at the new apartment tomorrow.As eager as I am to get out, I’ve had the new place since April 1st, but have failed to finally move my bed or computer.All I have left here are those items, and a pile of trash that’s starting to make my brother look like the clean sibling.
I run into trees and have sandy feet. Two things about me that no one else probably needed to know.I’ve been spending the majority of my weekend packed into a golf cart, touring various apartment complexes.I am so ready to get out of my dirty, stinky apartment.Most places I’ve looked (in various cities) have rent prices that literally garner half of my monthly wages.I’m a little delirious trying to figure out what to do.I need to be out of my current place by the end of April, or be forced to pay the additional $400 that they tacked onto our rent.
I endured a self-imposed week of bad habits to act as a crutch to keep me going, not thinking about the stress that seems to linger longer than I want it to.I am so close to graduating, yet troubled with the fact that I earned a meager living before starting college, but made ends meet; and now that I’m about to receive that little piece of paper that cost me thirty-five grand and a decade worth of daydreaming, I’m going to be out on my ass, in-debt and further away from the majority of my goals.I swear, this month I feel like a pessimist hiding in sheep’s clothing day to day.
It could be all the Manchester Orchestra I’m listing to, or the fact that I invested month’s worth of nice emails into an AWOL military man who didn’t surprise me one bit by not responding to my messaging.Cheers to frustration, being naive and barely optimistic enough to not dwell on things too long.
Despite all my negative drivel, I am having a good weekend.I managed to get the 2 foot-deep layer of clothes off my floor and into the wash, my oil changed, and sat by a one-log fire that didn’t give much heat to the half-dozen people huddled around it until 3:00 am on Saturday night.
If anyone knows a body double that would like to fill in for me until the end of May, please send them my way.I’ll be sitting at the beach, waiting to win the lottery sipping on something slightly alcoholic and reading intellectually stimulating novels.
Drunken Debauchery Disguised as Work Topic: Ramblings
Alright, so who says you can’t have fun and get some work done at the same time? Obviously no one from my company (I knew there were a few good reasons I worked for them!) Thursday through Sunday we had an event that resembled something I would have put together and attended on my own time, even if I wasn’t employed. I got to meet and mingle with fellow gamers, share ideas and opinions, and generally have a fantastic time.
Thursday night was my first venture into Rock Band. I sang some Black Sabbath, a little Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and even some of The Clash. My fans cheered for an encore from the couches in our swanky rented-out nightclub, while the bartender pleaded with my boss to make me stop singing at the top of my lungs. Luckily, a co-worker who was more microphone-worthy was able to take over and please the raging crowd with her melodies.
Friday morning after a breakfast of coffee and ibuprofen, we headed down to the docks to board the Hornblower so we could go whale watching. I’ve never gotten sea sick, but then again I haven’t spent too much time out on the water. I was weary about eating the semi-stale bagel and prepackaged fruit that they handed out as a morning snack, but it went down smoothly and never made its way back up, even though the motion of the ocean nearly knocked me on my ass a couple of times. It was a great feeling standing on the ship's helm and looking out on to the ocean, though looking at the navy men on a passing warship was a much more appealing site. I figured there had to be at least one Danny on that ship. Julie overboard!
We saw dolphins, seals or sea lions, and eventually even a whale (who passively remained near our ship for an hour due to the lobster trap tangled in his tail). Two guys on the cruise nicknamed him ‘Edgar’ and hilarity ensued as the both of them took on whale personas and acted out an entertaining skit that depicted ‘Edgar’ and ‘Emma’ as two aging Jewish orcas who couldn’t stop bickering. It was comedy gold.
That evening we headed to Dick’s Last Resort for dinner, where the waiters happened to give me the same hat I received the last time I was there. Do I just look like a girl who’s “easier to get into than community college”? I mean, I think that would require men taking the SATs and providing me with original transcripts and shot records before dropping their pants. I think that should at least be saved for the second or third date, right?
Our two tables became involved in methodical war games as we prepared and launched wadded up napkins soaked in various fluids across the room, some of which bounced off balloons and landed right back in our faces, but after the few rounds of tequila, no one seemed to mind. A few of us headed up stairs and I totally kicked collective ass in pool (this is the part where I get to lie because it is my blog and everyone else was too drunk to remember the night ending differently).
The next morning we saw [NDA] and talked about just how amazingly awesome [NDA] was and our eyebrows were raised numerous times when we discussed [NDA] and how it would affect [NDA] by allowing [NDA] in multiples of [NDA], but only on Tuesdays and [NDA].
We spent our Saturday evening on the lower rooftop of the ultra trendy W Hotel, where I was dressed to impress (my fellow geeks) with gaming attire and my dice covered sweatshirt. A couple people commented how they could just toss me around and have bonus damage rolls.
After the weekend ended, I was understandably exhausted. The workweek has just begun, and there’s definitely a lot to accomplish in the next few days. They say you’re supposed to work hard, and play even harder, but I think I got those two reversed somehow, because the work will be happening until the evening hours on Friday, and all I can think about is how I want to play again! I met some wonderful people, and I look forward to seeing them all again.
