ihy dmv.

I’m sure I’m not alone on the following: I hate going to the DMV.

So I walked in today to get my license. Oh boy, finally the day hath come.  I’m greeted by a cheerful, smiling receptionist. <– Lie.  I walk in and go up to the counter.  She said she’ll call my name so I can go to the examiner. Kindly, I said “But I already took my road test.” “I KNOW THAT. You still have to see the examiner!!” She barked at me.  I’m not exaggerating here.  I silenced myself and went to sit down.  Then I realized she didn’t give me a number.  Oh yes, I remembered, they’re going to call my name.  I waited.  No names were being called.  Then someone informed me that I was on the waiting list for a number.  WTF?!  I’m waiting for a number so I can wait to go see someone?!  Apparently I was on the waiting list of people that may or may not be seen before they close at five. It’s now 4:15. I’ve only been waiting, oh, almost an hour.

I wait some more. They call one name, then another. And finally, ME.  I go up and they direct me to the back.  Paperwork, paperwork blah blah blah… I go back to the front desk and get a number.  Then I sit down for five minutes. They call my number and tell me to go to the back again. Ooookayyy. The lady in the back says “Oh I was just bumping your number up. False alarm” Meh.   I sit for 20 more minutes.

I wait for them to call up C654.  ”C655.” OH BOY I’M NEXT. “C653.” WTF.  I wait some more.  ”C654″ THE MOMENT OF TRUTH. They take the pic, print it out, and now I’m on the road. Look out world.

Tonight, We Ride.

I’ve never liked BMW, but mostly because of the micro-culture I was raised in. The micro-culture ff my private school, the Catholic school, vs. the $13000 tuition school down the road. Now to be fair to my friends over on the dark side,

DISCLAIMER: This following rant is only relevant to about 50% of said schoolchildren.

So way back when when I was a lowly little freshman, I went to a basketball game of my school vs. the dark side. Like most schools, we have a cheering section of painted up shirtless guys high on energy drinks and Mountain Dew.

The Slogan: Tonnight, We Ride.

And I took a glance across the gym, to where our rivals’ section was shirtless and wearing plaid skirts (as if the girls over there don’t) with a sloppy poster pasted on the wall behind them:

*BMW logo* TONIGHT *BMW logo*

WE RIDE

IN BMWs

Now that brings me to their upbringing: They turn sixteen, which means an automatic free car for them. Brand new of course. Often times this isn’t good enough, and out of all the cars out there, nothing screams I’m A Spoiled Brat like a BMW. I know of a girl who, for her fifteenth birthday, got a $50000 BMW convertible shipped from across the country because no one in state had the exact shade of blue she wanted.

Pretty much everyone in my neck of the woods feels the same way I do, except for those select few who cross over the border and  have at least two of the hunks of metal in their five car garages, among other vehicles.

So I'm guessing this is the logic of those kids with BMWs.

And with that, I lead you to some further reading.  John of ANGERBRAWG has put together a most lovely concoction of words and pictures for viewing enjoyment of those of you who share my opinion on BMW.

http://angerbrawg.wordpress.com/2009/08/06/modern-day-teutonic-automobile-wars/