Something is afoot at The DMV...

I lost my drivers license sometime last week. It is probably in my apartment somewhere and I will find in any day. But…I gave it a week and nothing came up so I went to the DMV.

Something weird is always going on at the DMV.

So I get there and get my number and what not. Wait forever, pay my $5 and then take a seat in the next area where I wait for them to actually reprint it.

I note there are a few interesting individuals in the area and I sit away from them and do not make any sort of eye contact. If you pretend like you can’t see the insane then most of the time they can’t see you.

This cross eyed black man seated 20 feet from is trying to get my attention and yelling across the waiting area at me. He says something. I can’t make it out. All I hear is “secuse me .... interested ..... sex ...... black man”

I believe he is asking me if I would be interested in having sex with a black man but I am refusing to listen to this. This cannot be correct. This is not what one should be yelling across the waiting area at the DMV.

It is also ironic because there is what appears to be a white hooker sitting two seats from him. Do I look like a hooker? No – but I am pretty sure the trashy woman, tweaking out, talking about Oprah, in the jean shorts and black wife beater sitting a mere two seats down from him, has turned a trick or two in her life. This man is barking up the wrong tree.

He continues to attempt to get my attention and finally I acknowledge him by looking at him.

“Excuse me – do you have any friends that might be interested in having sex with a black man?”

WHAT ON EARTH is going on?

Why do the crazies love me?

Why? Leave me alone.

So now the 7 people that are in this area have ceased conversation and are staring at me. Is it socially acceptable for me to say no? All other people in the area, except the white hooker, are black. Even the black employees have stop to hear my answer. Can I say no? I just don't want to talk to him anymore. I want to stop this madness. If i say no, will I start a race riot?

I shake my head with a very serious face and made the “mmm-mmm” noise for no. This was a perfect time for my “I don’t speak English” routine but I did not even think of it because I was too busy thinking about how no matter how I answer this I will be in trouble. I am either going to have this guy bothering and freaking me out or I am going to have Jesse Jackson staging a protest at my front door tomorrow.

Then I turned my head as to no longer look at him.

But this did not stop him from continuing the conversation.

“You see, I have only once made love to a white woman, but that was…back in high school. I really do believe I have been hooked ever since and I would like to experience it at least one more time”

Luckily my license was printed not long after that and I left.

Why do these things happen to me?

God is fair

I am not a religious person. But let me tell you…God does not want me to be thin. If I were – I would rule the world. I am good looking, I am intelligent, and I am one of the funniest people I know. Actually - I am the funniest person I know. And – I know funny people. I know funny. God keeps me fat to even it all out. I read a quote once where Eric Clapton described himself as “an ego-maniac with and inferiority complex”. I am not sure anything could describe me better than that. I am absolutely the BIGGEST egomaniac with a HUGE inferiority complex.

ASU Periodicals

Why do I even get the ASU College of Business magazine? I do not subscribe. It is all glossy print and fancy. Is this what my tuition dollar is paying for? I really could not care less who is where in their life. I do not know who you people are – nor do I care. I really could not care less who got married or had a child. Chances are that if I did – I would be in contact with these people. Who the heck are these losers that have no friends that actually send in the information to be published in this periodical? Hooray – you got a job with a company I have never heard of. Hooray – you got married, Hooray – you created life and it was on purpose. Hooray – you have no friends and are sharing it with everyone on the planet Earth that graduated from the god damn ASU college of business. You even went to the trouble of publishing a photo. You are officially a loser. I bet you graduated summa cum laude and feel the need to share your next accomplishment. Congrats. Dude – we went to ASU. I graduated with a decent grade point average and could be found 7 nights per week drunk under a table at The Thirsty Beaver with my top off. You are a genius…what? Did you actually study? I am not impressed.


I went to the park today. When I got there it was only me and some other woman in this gated off area. I fell asleep in 2 seconds…this was not my intention.

Maybe 45 minutes later I woke up to find myself sweating and my arm was soaking went with my own drool. Apparently I could not be bothered to swallow while I napped.

I am also confident that I was snoring – as that is what I do.

When I sat up, I found that now there were about 15 people in the small gated area. They were probably happy to see the snorer go.

So essentially, I’m that really hot girl in the park you wish you were hanging out with.

Law Office Sluts

There is a girl that rides my bus that intrigues me.

She dresses like a fool.

I know she thinks she is trendy – but really she just looks silly.

There is a fine line between high-class hooker and trendy. FINE.

For one thing: she teases the hair up in the back so it is in some kind of faux beehive. So half her hair is down and the other is bubbled out on the back and it is fixed with bobbies. But it is ratted up and nasty back there. It is not a good look for the day time. I suggest she keeps that look for when she is ‘clubbin’.

Her hair is what originally got my attention. I was sitting behind her on the bus and I could not stop staring at what appeared to be matted doll hair.

Of course she has very very very blonde hair. Porn blonde. I am not one who can talk because I am currently sporting something between Playboy Bunny Blonde and Porn Blonde. But whatever…mine is not a knotted up Barbie hair.

Today she was wearing the following:

Black leggings that ended mid calf.
What appeared to be a large white collared shirt that went down to slightly below her knees
A giant belt perhaps? It was a piece of elastic maybe 10 inches thick around her waist and had metal clasps in the back.
Of course a large Coach purse.

I assume she works in an office and I am lead to believe she works the front desk at a Law Office. Why do I think this? Because there is a small law office on the same floor as my office and a slutty/trendy girl worked the front desk.

This is the only 9-5 employment available for poorly dressed sluts in any downtown area.

It is not like I just did not like law office girl because she dressed in a fashion that was out of taste. No…she was evil. When I saw her in the bathroom I would say hello. She would look at me and walk away. I had to pass her stupid little face every time I went to and from my office because they had clear glass doors. I would smile, she would sneer at me in return.

One day she was fired or quit.

She was replaced with another slut.

That one was replaced with another slut

I have an idea law office – stop hiring sluts.

I really need to get a secret spy-tech camera so I can photo bus girl. This would be so much better if I had a photo of her.

Chicken in the City

Yesterday I was riding my bike on the lake front path.

I ate about 47 bugs. The bugs are in full force and my nose was of no use to me because some sort of allergy has taken control. This made my consumption of bugs larger than normal as I was forced to breathe out my mouth…I did not have to eat dinner that night. Which is nice. Nothing like saving a dollar.

The strange part of my journey was that I saw a chicken. Yes, a chicken on the path. Two people were standing by it. I could not figure out if it was perhaps their pet and had it out for a walk or if they were trying to get to the bottom of this chicken scandal. I thought maybe it was some kind of escaped pet, but then I remembered that I do not live in Arizona where one can have a god damn farm in their back yard. Well…maybe that is not true but it seemed like it.

Then on my way back it appeared as though the chicken moved to the other side of the path and was in a tree. There was a crowd of people staring at the chicken in the tree and a Park District official was riding up on a vehicle of some sort. Probably a chicken catcher automobile.

It was weird. I was hoping it would make the 9PM WGN news…”Chicken in Lincoln Park”…. but it did not.

It is clear to me that this city is stricken with animal racism…perhaps one would call this speciesism. When a coyote is having its way about the city it is all over the news. All day talk of the coyote, the next morning, the next evening. They have footage of city officials chasing it about. When a chicken is not the loose – not one mention.

A chicken can’t get a break in this town.

Pam Anderson

Last night I had a dream that there was a disaster of some sort and there was a need too seek refuge for an unidentified amount of time. Hence one needed to pack things up to survive on.

With me were: my parents, my sister, Kelly Hallett and … Pam Anderson, of course.

Everyone except Pam and me was dicking around. I am not sure what they were doing but only Pam and I were attempting to pack things into these two bags.

Everything I packed made no sense. I knew it made no sense to pack such things as: a stuffed animal, a toaster, a jalapeƱo plant and perhaps a lint brush…but it was like I could not control myself. I thought – why am I packing this star shaped Jell-O mold? But yet I could not control the urge to do so and Pam was not complaining.

Then Pam and I were trying to close the bags of useless items and everything would just fall out. No one else was helping – just Pam.

After everything was packed up I decided to bring an extra change of clothing – but I carried that.

Then I woke up.


Riddle me this:

Why do boys go to the trouble of asking you for your number and then never call?


Do you boys honestly think this is some kind of polite thing to do?

I say: Hello and Good Bye. Don't go to the god damn trouble of asking me for my phone number if you have no plans on calling.

Yes, yes...I am capable of having a conversation and that is all out of someone. I need no hope of further communication. I need not have your tease with the phone number request. I will not run after you - demanding to take my number.

Oddly - my expectation for people is rather low. If I were knived in the streets by a gang member and then beat in the head - I expect that I will eventually come to and be bothered with the task of finding my own way to a hospital while my credit card is used to purchase cigarettes, large amounts of gasoline and ten bags of Fritos. I do not expect the help of a passer by-er. No, no..I do not.

Such as - if I find myself speaking with a male suitor - I expect him to leave and not ask my name, my number nor any other information about my life. I am owed nothing...such as with the gang member.

In fact - I'd rather you steal my credit card and make the purchase of Fritos so at least then - I will know you are an ass.

Hence - please - do not ask for a phone number unless there is an intention of calling.

There is some kind of grand statistic: 19% of men actually call after getting the phone number. WHAT IS THE REASONING? Why bother? Why bother digging the phone out your pocket and putting the phone number in? Do you delete it after walking away? Did I ask you to take my number? Certainly not. So why bother?

Is this some kind of catch and release program?
Am I some kind of fish?

The Chicago Mail System one of the wonders of the world.

I arranged to have my mail stopped while I was gone. Not really for my benefit as I would have to be bothered with the task of picking it up. I did this more as a service to my postal carrier. He need not have the burden of shoving 10 days of mail into my small mail receptacle. I am a courteous reciever of post mail, I respect all my civil servants. But oh, no. This does not work. I come home to my mail shoved and squished and in general disarray.

I should have left a note for my poor mail carrier.

This is how The Chicago Mail System works...a system of notes. Yes notes. We snub the use of computers and electronic means of sorting, holding and forwarding mail. Oh no. No computers for us. We use notes.

You may wonder how I know this.

Because I actually thought having my mail forwarded from my old address to my new would work. Of course I had all of my bills and such changed to my new address but there are those things that are forgotten.

When I moved to my new residence I noticed I had not one piece of mail with the yellow sticker saying it was forwarded. I remembered past residences of my old apartment would fetch and call for their mail....claiming they did fill out the forwarding and it did not work. I thought they were liars...until it happened to me.

I called my local post office to see what the deal was. They said "ok! We will put a note in the mail carrier's bag". WHAT? A note in the bag? You are actually putting a note in the bag??? Is it 1932?

Anyway...I got once peice of forwarded mail. The day after the alleged note was put in.

A note? Really, it is absurd.