I got the California Drivers License Handbook a couple months ago. I had every intention of studying. Each time I flipped through it, I said to myself another time or I've had my drivers license for half my life, I know what the fuck I'm doing. In other words, I didn't study. If you are a California resident (which I became one a month or so ago) and you wish to drive legally in the state, you need a California drivers license...an out of state license will not suffice. With this in mind I decide to drive instead of take the bus like the responsible adult I came here as.
You must fill out the proper documentation, pay, AND get your picture taken before you even take the test. The clerk then needs my Massachusetts drivers license. I have 2 in my purse, but I want to keep them for sentimental values and reasons of vanity, so I claim that I lost them in the move across country. He then tells me that it's fine, I'll just have to make another appointment to take the road test only once I've passed the written test. Fuck that shit!
"Actually sir, I think I may have it in my purse after all!"
"Of course you do," with a smirk on his face.
In California they ask for your height, weight, eye and hair color. Here is how I answered:
Height: 5'4". I'm really 5'3.75" but I like to round up (or down) if it makes me prettier.
Weight: I make believe this says "weight you aspire to be".
Eye Color: Green. They are really hazel, but green is my favorite color.
Hair Color: Auburn. My first choices were "undecided", "mixed", "whatever the box says depending on the month". The clerk was slightly amused, but not a much as I was. Always the case.
I proceed to the next event which is taking the written exam. 36 questions. You are allowed to get 6 incorrect. You can take the test 3 times in one day, but I'm thinking I'll nail it the first time. I check off all the (wrong) answers and skip and whistle my way to the 'I'm going to correct your test while you watch in agony' clerk. She puts a big -10 in a big red circle.
"Is that the amount of points taken off, or how many I got wrong?"
"Same thing honey. Go study. NEXT!"
Study? STUDY?! In other words cram, because the handbook is eighty six fucking pages. And there are about 120 people in the room. Yeah, right.
Fuck-it-I-get-back-in-line-to-get-another-test. I go to the little cubicle and attempt to get 10 wrong answers again (and also to shush the assholes behind me who are talking about France. Twice.) By the time I return to the devil-horn wearing clerk, my answer sheet is soggy and crinkled and shaking and laced with hearts in an attempt to charm her. I flop my head down on the counter and cross my fingers so she can clearly see how tortured I am feeling at this critical moment. I hear another stamp, just like the first time. But this time the stamp read PASS!! Only 3 wrong!! I run out to the car, fire it up, and tear out of the parking lot with such joy in my heart, blasting Tone Loc on the radio, and getting slightly lost on the way home. Now when I drive 'Boston Crazy' around this city, I no longer have to worry about getting thrown out of California!!
Ps. Go ahead and comment that 10 wrong plus 3 wrong equals 13 wrong, which averages out to 6.5 wrong which is failing by .5 wrong.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I Just Made a Huge Decision
I've said this about several people, and I've said it several times. But I am 100% no regrets confident with this one: Will Gordon is the funniest person I've ever met. Please become a frequent reader, and comment on his posts so he finally publishes the book so I can leave it in the bathroom for my guests to howl whilst they shit.
www.sameasweeverwas.blogspot.com
Thank you kindly.
www.sameasweeverwas.blogspot.com
Thank you kindly.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Injured Dani
Tiny Baby Age. Pneumonia. Hospitalized. I know….B O R I N G. I am not off to a good start with this post.
2 years of age. This one really isn't an injury, but it makes me feel tough girl to tell it. My mom thought I was ready to drink out of a big girl glass (and boy have I now mastered that art). She gave me the glass of juice and I proceeded to treat it like plastic and chew down on it. **crunch** goes the glass and I look up at my mom with an “oh shit” look on my face. She pries open my mouth to find shattered glass. And not one drop of blood. I then became known as a superhero.
2 years of age. Salmonella poisoning. Nobody, not even the board of health could ever solve the mystery. My mom blamed the babysitter (who strangely enough the grandson of this alleged baby shaker dated my god daughter Megan last year).
5th grade. My best friend and me decide to go double riding on my bike. I’m the driver and I take us down a hill. I lose control of the bike and next thing I’m sitting in her kitchen a bloody mess staring up at my parents completely and utterly confused. I end up with a concussion, 4 stitches in my lip and a permanently crooked chin. Swear to god next time you see me, notice my lopsided chin. I’ll even let ya feel it. My parents took me camping the next week and I looked like such a scabby fucked up mess that all the kids were staring at me in the lake when I was swimming. I felt like swamp thing and it still hurts my feelings to this day. On a lighter note, this best friend that I speak of was named Holly Barton. Awesome. And our friends name was….you ready?….Zoe Hollywood. Mr. And Mrs. Hollywood pretty much laid down the gauntlet for pornstardom when they named her.
6th grade. I was a Pop Warner Cheerleader and our big competition was coming up. That week in school for gym class was dodge ball. My very bestest friend in the whole wide world, Jessica, came at me with a ball and chucked it in my face. I put my hand up to guard it but sacrificed my pinky finger. I report the injury to the gym teacher. “Hey teach? My finger hurts and it's all crooked and swollen and throbbing in pain. Can I have a nurse pass?” The mother fucking pervert asshole tells me to suck it up. So I did. Until my mom dragged me to the hospital like any good mother would do with a daughter WHO SUFFERED A COMPOUND FRACTURE. They then banned dodge ball in all Braintree public schools. And boy did that pedophile gym teacher get a lashing from my badass mom. Oh, and in case I left you hanging, I of course could not participate in the cheerleading competition. I did get a HUGE ass picture of me in my uniform and cast with a really sad look on my face in the newspaper that week.
10th grade. My parents are away and I'm on my own. Eric Bell, who is a senior and a 6' big football dude, is starting to like me and of course I'm starting to like him. Him and his friend convince me to ditch out of school early. I oblige. I am getting into his truck when my head is cracked open by the sunroof. The pain was unbearable, but all I am thinking of is please don't cry Dani, please don't cry. Well when I looked at their faces and then looked at the river of blood running down my white t-shirt...I decided it was fair to cry. One Hospital trip and seven stitches later, my grandfather forbade me to go to the red sox game that evening with my boyfriend Dennis Stampfl.
11th grade. Cheerleading accident. I fall off the top of the stunt and sprain my ankle. This caused the whooooole stunt to change and I could no longer climb and be on top :( I got my cute little mug in the newspaper again. With a sad look on my face in the sidelines.
12th grade. Cheerleading accident once again. And this was a doozy. The practice before homecoming I smash faces with another girl. Break my two front teeth and bust open my lip. My dentist was the bomb and opened up her office at 8pm that evening to bond my teeth. I have pushed this memory way back in my brain because I was 17 and all girls at age 17 are vain. The entire team showed up to the dentist for moral support. My teeth were fine and still are. Knock on wood.
Age 24. My heart. Al Presutti.
Age 26. I try to cut open an orange with a serrated knife and instead cut the side of my finger into a flap. 5 stitches.
Age 28. My heart. Jason Webber.
Age 32. Went to see Pearl Jam with my brother the hippie. Not sure if it was the tequila, the weed, or that I tend to do this with people I work with, love and care about, but I decide to slap hippie across the face in the middle of PJ's set. Karma came back swiftly as I was descending the stairs after a beer run. I roll my ankle, which in my experience is worse pain than a sprain.
Age 32. Me and Jill and Sam and Chris (my boyfriend of 3 weeks) were up late night after hours partying in Jills big bedroom. I decide to perform human cannon ball off a computer chair. Those tend to always have wheels. And the wheels rolled on her hardwood floor. This was not my smartest moment. I land square on my shoulder on the floor. Boy am I in pain for weeks. Chris is sick to death of listening to me complain, sick of helping me put my shirt on (but not sick of taking it off) so I decide to go to doctor. I broke my arm and tore a tendon. I learn this 2.5 months later. Surgery is always an option though!! God Dammit Dani.
I hope you've enjoyed me reliving my pains.
2 years of age. This one really isn't an injury, but it makes me feel tough girl to tell it. My mom thought I was ready to drink out of a big girl glass (and boy have I now mastered that art). She gave me the glass of juice and I proceeded to treat it like plastic and chew down on it. **crunch** goes the glass and I look up at my mom with an “oh shit” look on my face. She pries open my mouth to find shattered glass. And not one drop of blood. I then became known as a superhero.
2 years of age. Salmonella poisoning. Nobody, not even the board of health could ever solve the mystery. My mom blamed the babysitter (who strangely enough the grandson of this alleged baby shaker dated my god daughter Megan last year).
5th grade. My best friend and me decide to go double riding on my bike. I’m the driver and I take us down a hill. I lose control of the bike and next thing I’m sitting in her kitchen a bloody mess staring up at my parents completely and utterly confused. I end up with a concussion, 4 stitches in my lip and a permanently crooked chin. Swear to god next time you see me, notice my lopsided chin. I’ll even let ya feel it. My parents took me camping the next week and I looked like such a scabby fucked up mess that all the kids were staring at me in the lake when I was swimming. I felt like swamp thing and it still hurts my feelings to this day. On a lighter note, this best friend that I speak of was named Holly Barton. Awesome. And our friends name was….you ready?….Zoe Hollywood. Mr. And Mrs. Hollywood pretty much laid down the gauntlet for pornstardom when they named her.
6th grade. I was a Pop Warner Cheerleader and our big competition was coming up. That week in school for gym class was dodge ball. My very bestest friend in the whole wide world, Jessica, came at me with a ball and chucked it in my face. I put my hand up to guard it but sacrificed my pinky finger. I report the injury to the gym teacher. “Hey teach? My finger hurts and it's all crooked and swollen and throbbing in pain. Can I have a nurse pass?” The mother fucking pervert asshole tells me to suck it up. So I did. Until my mom dragged me to the hospital like any good mother would do with a daughter WHO SUFFERED A COMPOUND FRACTURE. They then banned dodge ball in all Braintree public schools. And boy did that pedophile gym teacher get a lashing from my badass mom. Oh, and in case I left you hanging, I of course could not participate in the cheerleading competition. I did get a HUGE ass picture of me in my uniform and cast with a really sad look on my face in the newspaper that week.
10th grade. My parents are away and I'm on my own. Eric Bell, who is a senior and a 6' big football dude, is starting to like me and of course I'm starting to like him. Him and his friend convince me to ditch out of school early. I oblige. I am getting into his truck when my head is cracked open by the sunroof. The pain was unbearable, but all I am thinking of is please don't cry Dani, please don't cry. Well when I looked at their faces and then looked at the river of blood running down my white t-shirt...I decided it was fair to cry. One Hospital trip and seven stitches later, my grandfather forbade me to go to the red sox game that evening with my boyfriend Dennis Stampfl.
11th grade. Cheerleading accident. I fall off the top of the stunt and sprain my ankle. This caused the whooooole stunt to change and I could no longer climb and be on top :( I got my cute little mug in the newspaper again. With a sad look on my face in the sidelines.
12th grade. Cheerleading accident once again. And this was a doozy. The practice before homecoming I smash faces with another girl. Break my two front teeth and bust open my lip. My dentist was the bomb and opened up her office at 8pm that evening to bond my teeth. I have pushed this memory way back in my brain because I was 17 and all girls at age 17 are vain. The entire team showed up to the dentist for moral support. My teeth were fine and still are. Knock on wood.
Age 24. My heart. Al Presutti.
Age 26. I try to cut open an orange with a serrated knife and instead cut the side of my finger into a flap. 5 stitches.
Age 28. My heart. Jason Webber.
Age 32. Went to see Pearl Jam with my brother the hippie. Not sure if it was the tequila, the weed, or that I tend to do this with people I work with, love and care about, but I decide to slap hippie across the face in the middle of PJ's set. Karma came back swiftly as I was descending the stairs after a beer run. I roll my ankle, which in my experience is worse pain than a sprain.
Age 32. Me and Jill and Sam and Chris (my boyfriend of 3 weeks) were up late night after hours partying in Jills big bedroom. I decide to perform human cannon ball off a computer chair. Those tend to always have wheels. And the wheels rolled on her hardwood floor. This was not my smartest moment. I land square on my shoulder on the floor. Boy am I in pain for weeks. Chris is sick to death of listening to me complain, sick of helping me put my shirt on (but not sick of taking it off) so I decide to go to doctor. I broke my arm and tore a tendon. I learn this 2.5 months later. Surgery is always an option though!! God Dammit Dani.
I hope you've enjoyed me reliving my pains.
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