Family and Idiots, Part I

I've gotten shit for sleep the last two nights and the misanthropy is thick, children. I'm also being tortured by a zit on the back of my right ear that I, of course, won't stop messing with. Please just fucking kill me already.

Family

King V and Queen S are preparing for their trip. King V has a fun little game where he comes to my desk seemingly every 32 seconds and drops something else off for me to take care of, talks about the trip and how he's decided to take the laptop and what size memory card does the camera have and ?I think Mom's excited, don't you? and we leave at 4:00 AM and I need you to take care of this and this and this and this while I'm gone and oh yeah, we want you to stay here a few nights even though our lamps are on timers and we have an alarm system. Please to stay in the big, giant, empty, old house while we're gone. Oh, you're afraid of serial killers? Just call us.

Idiots

Yesterday, I went to the traffic court where I had to pay for my speeding ticket. As soon as I walked in the door, I saw a sign that told me where I could have paid online. Thanks. That information would've been helpful in the threatening letter you sent me. Where's a customer satisfaction survey when a girl needs one?

Suffice it to say, I'm pretty sure I lost a couple IQ points during my experience. I might have lost them beforehand considering it was 40 degrees outside and I was wearing both a skirt and flip flops. A 30-degree wind chill and leather seats are a good way to freeze off your pootie, in case you're wondering.

I walked into the court building and a crowd of scary, criminal-looking people were lined up, facing one way against the wall of a dimly-lit, poorly-painted hallway. Awesome. Inexplicably, some sheriff-looking person made everyone turn around and face a different way. I was in line for a few minutes before I found out I had to go into a large room where no one appeared to be working -- while 15 people were lined up in the hallway -- and hand over the piece of mail I'd received. Then I had to sign a piece of paper that said I admitted guilt for my offense. Keep in mind, this is all about a speeding ticket. Not breaking-and-entering, not assault, not espionage, not murder. A FUCKING SPEEDING TICKET. Me drive too fastly -- oh noes!

I got back in line and was soon, luckily, at the cashier's window. I handed over my $180 check (whee!) and the clerk asked how I pronounced my name.

Ah, Christ.

I told her.

"That's different," she said and smiled at me, apparently looking for some kind of validation.
You're right! I'm a mutant, cursed to live on Earth with a foreign name! Woe is I's!

I shrugged, didn't say anything, and just sorta looked at her.

It's African, I think I go through this every effin' day with idiots like you, and could you just give me my receipt please?

Suddenly Miss Thang was snitty. Stamp, stamp, stamp, thud thud thud, told me where I needed to take piece of paper #2 buttheyaren'topentoday youcangotheretomorrow haveaniceday NEXT!

Oh, I'm sorry I didn't agree with you that my name is "weird" or "odd." Yes, it's different. My parents were in the Peace Corps. My dad used to look like Meathead. Mom had an Afro wig. They probably smoked a lot of dope and then pored through baby name books, okay? Am I free to go now?