Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Blogger's Paradise

Any blogger who is having a hard time thinking of something to write about should go get their driver's license renewed. Not that my children don't give me plenty of fun, but I could spend all day at the DMV, or whatever they call it in Texas, and frankly was a little disappointed when it was all over. All too soon.

The first, and possibly best, was the ladies room. I even took a picture with my husband's cell phone, but I am cheap and technologically challenged and can't figure any way to get that picture without paying $5, and as great as it was, I can think of way better things to do with $5 (Cadbury creme eggs, anyone?). But there, in the ladies room, there was an electrical outlet. With one child safety plug in it, labeled in black magic marker, as big as you can on an irritating plastic outlet cover, DPS. And what struck me was that they felt the need to label it, as if someone was going to steal it. And then, "Oh, my gosh, I bet someone did, and then they HAD to label it!" and "Who thinks to steal an outlet plug from the DPS?" And then I remembered my roommate in college who NEVER paid for toilet paper, because she knew all the best bathrooms on campus that were always overstocked.

And the signs. Oh, the signs. There were sheets of copy paper covering practically every surface in that place. "Do not let your children hang on the picture backdrop" "Exit here" "enter over there" "go that way" "no, that way" "no cell phones"

At least 38 signs per wall that said, "NO CELL PHONES" and for the drivers who can't read, signs with a cellphone with a circle and a line through it. Each of my children, by age two would have known to turn off their cellphones. So my husband, what does he do? He gets a call and answers it. And there was a woman who worked there who had cellphone radar. As soon as he put it to his ear? She barked, "No cell phones on this side of the wall!" But my husband was having a Very Important Phone Conversation and didn't hear her. So he kept talking. Until I kicked him. In the 4 minutes I waited, she yelled at two other people. One for not moving down to the orange cone (thankfully, she was in front of me so by the time I was the head of the line, I knew better) and another for talking on his cellphone.

Thankfully the yellinglady was not my customer service agent, because my picture would have looked frightened. And the lady who did take care of me promised that I didn't look like a freak in my picture. She wouldn't show it to me, but she promised. Hopefully she's not one of those who takes pride in taking the best (by that I mean worst) driver's license pictures. And she didn't even laugh when I told her my "weight." I mean, she might have smirked a little, but she didn't look over the counter and go, "Lady, your butt weighs that much. Let's try again."

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