On Monday I decided it was past due for me to man up and go to the judicial center to get my full drivers license. But knowing me for me, I couldn't simply waltz in and get my picture taken like any Average Joe. Oh no. I did what any man who truly considers himself deserving of manhood would do: I put my pair into pig tails, buttoned my girl jeans up taught, put on my man face and trudged foreword. Not only did the security officials at the door act like nothing was weird about me at all, but the ladies in the licensing office did the same. Nobody acted like what I was doing was the funniest thing to ever take place in this town, which it was. I sat down and took the picture then proceeded to play the waiting game outside while they prepared my shiny new card. Then, like a golden trophy or a newborn baby, my license was brought out to me and it was everything I had expected it to be.
The whole reason for doing it at all was so that if, by chance, I was to ever be pulled over by a cop there would be that magical moment of anticipation when he said "License and Registration" and I would dig it out and hand it to him and than his face would be stupified and I would laugh and my world would be complete.
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