happy birthday to me.


Typically I write something heartfelt and profound for my birthday about another year passing by and all the things I experienced. Well this year is different. This year I am going to start off with a little bit of a rant. I spent a good chunk of my work day (for which some of my precious vacation time will be deducted) at ye olde DMV. It’s my fault for procrastinating, I will own that and get it out of the way right now. I totally knew my license was going to expire tomorrow, and I have known for weeks. That being said, I really did think it would be a simple as going into the license office with my old license and saying “This expires tomorrow, I need a new one.” And then the nice lady would say, “Well, lookee here!! I see tomorrow is your birthday! Well, happy birthday Lesley!! Please come right over and have your picture taken and you will have your new license in two shakes of a lamb’s tail! Thanks so much for coming by!” But it didn’t quite happen that way.

Turns out, to renew your existing drivers license, the state of MO (and many other states from what I hear but I don’t really care because I don’t live there) require several forms of ID in addition to your photo ID, which you ironically obtained in the first place by providing all these forms of ID, and is now PROOF you are who the Eff you say you are because they have already checked your shit and allowed you to get this license…

It’s actually quite a complicated process, but I am gonna walk you through it.

Step 1 – You need your birth certificate or your passport.

Sweet, no problemo if you are organized, which I am NOT. I do not have a passport. I have never left the continental US, I have never been anywhere cool, seriously…name a cool place…I haven’t been there. So that narrows my choice down to Birth Certificate. I lost mine. I don’t really see the point in having this piece of paper that states my mother’s maiden name when she had me, or my maiden name at birth since I am now married and my name isn’t the same. Neither here nor there, I had to go purchase a new one. No big whoop. I was in and out of the Jefferson County Health Department in about 4 minutes, maybe less. Step one complete. Feelin’ pretty good about step 2 at this point.

Step 2 – You need your Social Security Card. Awesome! I lost mine. I had to go to the local Social Security office where I was greeted by an armed guard who immediately stood up and put on some black leather gloves. He jokingly asked me if I had any drugs or knives in my purse, but I didn’t mess with him, the gloves creeped me out and he had a gat. I took a number. I barely had time to sit down when they called my number right away, I went to the window with my SS Card application form already filled out before I got here(yeah I was prepared and whatnot) and gave it to the nice girl, she commented on how cute my 31 purse was, I told her I sell 31, she wanted to book a party and become a consultant…SCORE. She was able to print a form for me to take to the DMV right away, in and outta that joint in about 5 minutes. On to step 3 – nothing can go wrong from here!!!

Step 3 – You need a piece of mail with your address on it, a bank statement will suffice. BOOYAH! Already printed that bad boy before I left work. I have it in my purse along with my brand spankin’ new Certificate of live birth and my verification from the SS department that I am who I say I am…I am on my way to the DMV to get this party started…I will be back to work within the hour…HOLLA! I am feeling like I can take over the fkn world on step 4. I am gonna go over to step 4’s house when step 4 aint home and I am gonna fk step 4’s wife. Step 4 is about to become my bitch.

Step 4 – PIECE OF CAKE. Waltz up to the counter at the DMV, tell the lovely lady behind the counter I need my license renewed…get my pic taken, roll out…then no worries tomorrow night on my birthday when 3am rolls around and in my drunken stupor I come up with the brilliant idea to HEAD EAST!! I am all set!

Well…step 4 didn’t go as smoothly as steps 1-3. Allow me to break it down for you.

I walked through the door of the beautiful downtown Arnold DMV with all my documents in hand. I immediately see the sign that says “Please take a number for vehicle licensing/titling or driver license” So I grab a number. I am #28. There are two separate areas of the license bureau. The left side (to be referred to as Side “A”) my side, has one long open counter with one employee handling the area. Then on the right side (Side “B”) with 3 separate windows, a gnarly looking lady is working Window 1

nobody is at Window 2, and a tiny troll-like older lady is working in Window 3.

I sit down in the waiting area with the degenerates who are waiting their turn for “Side B” because there was a chick with an obnoxious kid waiting in the area for Side “A”. Mental note…(There is only one employee working on side Awesome, and 2 employees working on side Bitch…I am gonna be outta here in NO time!)

I hear Window 1 the counter bellow out “NUMBER 24!” Sweet. Only 4 people in front of me, and one is being helped right meow. Things are looking super. The employee on my side is super nice, she is all smiles and friendly to the customer she is helping, she gets her in and out of there in no time! This is gonna be awesome!!! But wait, what’s this?? After she has helped the girl on the license side, she disappears into what I can only assume is a dark tunnel or some sort of time warp into space, and she is gone for what seems to be forever, but after a few minutes, she came back…to grab her “sody” and then she re-appears on side “B” to work behind that counter in Window 2. WTF EDDIE?? Why have you switched sides?? Oh, I know…you are clearly the glue that holds this rinky-dink joint together, there isn’t anything here YOU can’t do! No matter, they will call my number and she will just go over to side “Awesome” and help me when they call #28. I’m not worried, do what you have to do on side “Bitch” to help these broads out, then come back over to the winning team when it’s my turn. In the meantime, I am gonna move over to side “Amazing” waiting area now, I will have that side ALL to myself. HA! HA! HA!


Window 2 gets her game face on and calls out “Number 25″, some dude’s getting something licensed. She greets him with a smile and begins to help him. Meanwhile, the beast at Window 1 finishes up with the skinny whore who gave me a dirty look when I came in…yeah…I saw it you filthy skank. So Window 1 calls out “NUMBER 25!!” Whoops…my girl at Window 2 forgot to click the countdown box…you have already served #25. I am not mad at Window 2…she does EVERYTHING in here while you assclowns work at a speed that can best be described as MOZY. Well, instead of realizing Window 2 has already served #25; Window 1 keeps yelling “NUMBER TWENTY-FIVE!!” and is seemingly growing more agitated by each passing second that #25 is ignoring her. When the toothless bitch finally realizes #25 has already been called, she finally calls out “NUMBER 26!” Overall, my assessment is that Window 1 seems pissed off to be here today, even though she is likely very comfy in her sweatpants and pajammy shirt she is wearing.

On a serious note, I thought you had to dress up to have a government job. WRONG.

Ok back to the story at hand, #26 makes his way to Window 1. Twenty-Six is a dude with a broken arm who apparently forgot to bring in all his paperwork…this really chaps Window 1’s cratered ass. She stands there huffing and puffing and swiggin’ on her sody, staring at the clock until this poor sap sprints out to his car and finally comes back in. She loudly announces to him that he didn’t bring all the crap he needed, and seems even more irritated that she had to stand there and wait for him to run in and out and he STILL didn’t have his shit together. Broken arm guy leaves and Window 1 chugs about 23 more ounces of her sody and calls out “NUMBER TWENTY-SIX!!” Yeah, I know. Two-Six just left, she is the assbag who forgot to click the counter this time and she’s the one who got pissed about Window 2 making this very mistake only moments ago…Karma. It’s funny to watch her embarrassment unfold because she is a snaggle toothed rag. She calls out “NUMBER TWENTY-SEVEN!!” I didn’t even pay attention to who #27 was…I was too busy being stoked.

I was next. Woot!!! I am next BITCHES!!! HA HA!!! One last look through my paperwork. Everything is in order.

Then I FINALLY hear it…Old lady at Window 3 is done with her customer and she calls out “NUMBER 27!” Crap, seriously??? I stood up because I knew I was next and I thought she was gonna say #28…but these people didn’t read the user’s manual on how to use the number clicker…so I stay standing while she stares RIGHT AT ME and keeps yelling “NUMBER 27!! NUMBER 27??!!” Then when the dickhole at Window 1 finally tells her SHE’S helping #27, she calls out….”NUMBER 28!” I start to strut over to her and she says to me “If you are getting a license, she’ll help you over there hon.” Then magically remembers how the number clicker works and calls out “NUMBER 29!”

Then it was like I was in the twilight zone because the DMV waiting area filled up so fast…people were bringing screaming kids in…old ladies were there…and old grey-haired dude with a pierced ear in a jean jacket who stunk the whole place up like he just chain-smoked a carton of GPC’s the moment before he stepped in was reading his drivers license renewal notice about 2 inches away from his face…a guy with 2 cute, but asshole little girls who threw toys at each other came in…an old lady who had already been served and left came back and figured out that she had paid too much for her plates came back and got it all straightened out and left AGAIN…and they are calling numbers left and right. The wildebeest that was working Window 1 grabbed some mail in her arms and her sody and her purse, put a smoky-treat in her mouth and walked out. Guess she’s off for the day?? SO…now we are down to TWO chicks working on the “B” side, and MY chick (who I am now noticing is a complete SLOUCH) is STILL working on #25 (who isn’t a dude after all…) must be getting a fleet of school buses licensed! In the meantime the old lady on Window 3 is licensing cars like candy bars. She goes through the 30’s and is in the 40’s by the time zippy the wonder slug FINALLY gets done with the dude (whatever) at Window 2. Then she proceeds to get lost in another dimension on her 8 foot trek to side “A”.

She finally makes her way over, in the meantime I have been cleverly trying to position all my well-organized paperwork to cover my torso and face because the chi-mo (child molester) who has chosen to sit in front of me is CLEARLY trying to take a picture of me with his fkn pay-as-you-go flip phone. There is an asshole kid crying her eyes out because she fell or something, and now it’s FINALLY my turn. It is now 3:15. I got here at 2:00.

Slowpoke finally re-appears and calls out “NUMBER 28!” so I quickly walk up to the counter and lay out all my documents, Sloth doesn’t even look at any of it, instead she just grabs my old license, throws it on the counter behind her and asks me if my height and weight are about the same. I didn’t bother to tell her I stopped growing 22 years ago when I was 14 years old, therefore NO…I haven’t gotten any taller. But my weight has gone down because I was 5 months pregnant when I got my license done last time. When I told her what my new weight she rolled her eyes at me. Well, sorry it’s less than yours! Maybe if you walked faster than a 77 year old turtle and didn’t smoke like a train you would weigh less?? No?? It’s LITERALLY the only perk of going through your entire life having all the 4th graders on EARTH be bigger than you, so blow me.

I got my picture taken, did the brief eye exam, registered to vote at my new address, and waited for my new license to print and then I bounced. Back to work by 3:30. Done and done. Only 3.5 hours after I left. Awesome. Happy birthday to me, I am now in the clear if I decide to go to beautiful downtown East St. Louis, IL after midnight tomorrow, and that is highly unlikely because I in one hour and 10 minutes I will be 36 years old and I am too damned tired to even think about looking at saggy fun bags tomorrow night.