2004-02-03

Ah, my little peanuts. It's 4pm on a Tuesday and I am home. I've just returned from the DMV, and I do declare it is probably not the best way to get docked half a day's pay.

I just got my first car, and after smog checks, forms, phone calls, appointments, inspections, insurance and 800 forms, I finally got my California plates.

The only time I've been to the DMV previously was for my license photos. In the 6.5 years I've lived here, I've been there once. It's because after that, they let you renew by mail and keep the same picture, no matter how much weight you've gained or how many dreadlocks are on your head. Case and point, circa 06/00

Smoky! If you click it, I will reveal my not so true self with the assistance of a good photographer.

Since then, a lot has changed (for both my hair and the DMV, but let's focus on the DMV today, boys and girls, because my hair requires many, many chapters). For starters, they've upgraded their traditional angry-mob-line system to a high-tech angry-mob-in-chairs-with-numbers method.

There are three endless rows of chairs on top of each other and an automated "Now Serving B0842 at number 36" loud-speaker. I totally felt like I was in the waiting room in Beetlejuice anticipating my meeting with the advisor to the dead. Come to think of it, most of the people sitting around me and "serving" me resembled those characters closely.

Hmmmm.

Unrelated >> Even though I've been going to orchestra rehearsals, I have to audition on Saturday night. Since our conductor is in the symphony, I have to go to the SF Symphony hall before their concert for it. I pray to the string gods above that no one besides Baton Man hears me play.

Oooh, ooh, and in other hot music news, my band is doing a song in which I play my red accordion. Maybe living in the MexiCali mariachi hell we call my neighborhood has improved my playing?

Final note: when I got home today, there was a man outside pissing on our apartment. The end.