For a good time....

Ok, so have any of you tried to contact the DMV lately?

I have a vehicle that is slightly expired and in dire need of a new shiny sticker. So being the dutiful citizen I can be at times, I gathered the needed registration information and inspection certificates and ensconced myself in front of my laptop and commenced the process.

My first road block came with step one of the process. My address is outdated. Not to worry! The DMV people were thoughtful enough to include easy to read instructions on what to do in just such an event. The instructions include the appropriate phone number. What they don't tell you is by calling the number you must submit not only your intellectual faculties at the door but you must also give up any desire to live.

At first the "children of the corn" voice seems pleasant enough. She informs you that you have dialed the correct number in a voice sweeter than Amy's mothers from "Everybody loves Raymond". Shortly however, you become aware that you aren't in Kansas anymore.

You would think a change of address would be as simple making a phone call and then getting on with your life. Oh no....Naive little one. We are dealing with the DMV a governmental entity!!!!!

I listened over and over and over and over to the list of options and no option for changing your address exists. I felt like I was wondering around Hogwarts trying to find that room that only appears when you really need it to. Apparently I didn't want the address change option bad enough.

I momentarily clapped like a school child when I happened upon an option entitled "Vehicle registration information" only to curse like a drunken sailor when I was informed "if you recieved a packet in the mail, open it, and follow the directions to renew your registration online... I think I might have shed a tear at this point.

Have you ever felt like you were stuck in a Seinfield episode??? In frustration I found myself mocking the voice on the other end of the line. Trust me, it does no good, the voice doesn't even flinch.

So, here I am, crying on any available shoulder (Amber retreated upstairs in disgust, her shoulder is apparently unavailable at the moment. So much for the myth that a crying man indicates sensitivity and is a desirable trait, she just called me a wimp).

Look, I am not about to suggest to anyone that we should boycott the DMV, (in case they are listening). I am however suggestion that if you find yourself in need of an address change with the DMV don't expect sympathy. These boys play for keeps. They will chew you up and spit you out only to kick you in the crotch as a parting gift.

Curse them, curse them all....