of boy and ships and sealing wax

For me, a perk of working on a campus is being around student workers. Oh stop it you pervs, not in anykind of cougar sense. Just being witness to the occasional excellentness of 18-to-20-year-olds. Life is often breathlessly exciting or excrutiatingly difficult or weepingly mundane. Crushes are felt, deeply. Grades are a source of contant irritation and anxiety. Ring tones are changed a lot [“My Humps” gave way to something I totally don’t recognize]. The art of the whispered conversation [in an office filled with cubicles and open doors] is perfected. We old folk are alternately regarded with friendliness and suspicion. I’m pretty amazed at how together most of them seem [although they would disagree I’m sure]. Fascinating creatures. It makes me miss my nieces and nephews.

In other news, I blame the DMV for everything that has gone wrong in my life, up to and including my romance problems and chronic hayfever. I know that it’s so cliche to hate them, but! God!

Event: April 2005. The ever-conscientous Carpinteria police pull me over [twice], pointing out my expired registration.
Why it’s the DMV’s fault: DMV never processed my address change when I moved to Ventura, so I never got my 2005 registration stickers [that I paid for in Nov. 2004]. I had to jump through some hoops but eventually got replacement stickers and my address changed […or did I?]

Event: Just as I was being handed back my boarding pass and license at the Seattle Airport earlier this month, poised to board a flight in time for the wedding, the agent noticed my license expired in May. This caused me to pay $100 to travel to Denver to hook up with an LA flight that would bring me in JUST enough time to make it. But United [you suck!!!] was wrong, and I got in 1.5 hours later than they said I would.
Why it’s the DMV’s fault: DMV never processed my license address change, so I never received a renewal reminder in the mail.

Event: My life sucks and I have chronic hayfever.
Why it’s the DMV’s fault: Because!

Fastidious readers might point out that there is some accountability, on my part, on why some of the things went wrong, above. But you don’t want to be fastidious, do you? Just be my friend!