Chancy Chatter

These are the potentially dangerous words of an over fed, under appreciated, tattooed, formerly pierced and occasionally purple-haired, wife and mom.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Adventures at the DMV, The story of my trip to Atlanta

Despite the crazed day leading up to my departure and getting out of the house just a wee bit later than planned, I made it to Atlanta without incident. My sister and I went out and ate huge plates of nachos before visiting the "urban" Target. We picked up some beer and went back to her apartment to watch back to back episodes of HBO's Cathouse. (Which by the way is funny and fascinating.) It was just good to sit and relax and talk. She and I certainly don't have everything in common but it's uncanny how alike we are as people even if our lives have taken very different paths.

Saturday started off on the wrong foot with me burning my sisters poppy seed bagel to a black, smoky, crisp. It wasn't just any bagel you see, it was the bagel we went down 15 stories for in a semi-operational elevator, unshowered and in our pajamas. (My blueberry bagel was delicious by the way.) What can I say? I didn't hear the toaster oven ding! She took it well though and we headed out to do a little apartment hunting for her since her current building smells like a nursing home and offers very little other than the free bagels and pastries on Saturday morning.

It was at the first apartment complex that we discovered the next bummer of the day. I had somehow forgotten my drivers license. This meant I couldn't actually go look at the apartments we were checking out (The leasing agent has to have a copy of your drivers license before taking you off to look at the apartment so that if you rape or murder them their is proof of who committed the crime.) I quickly realized that I wouldn't be able to do anything without it... Shop using my credit or debit card, get into clubs, buy drinks. So it was decided that we'd find a DMV and get a new one. After several frustrating attempts at actually contacting the DMV by phone, and in case you are wondering you CAN'T contact the DMV in Atlanta by phone, my sister called a friend who pointed us in the right direction.

The DMV was hot and smelly. Body odor of many different unpleasant flavors wafted every where. The drink machines were out of order and the plastic seats were oddly shaped causing a sort of suction on your backside. Maybe this is to keep people in their seats until they are called. The staff were as pleasant as Nazi concentration camp guards. To make matters worse there was some sort of mix up which caused me to be lost in the system for about two hours. When we finally got out of there we were starving and thirsty, not to mention sweaty and gross. I think my sister wanted to strangle me and send me home but she has an incredible sort of calm and patience so we soldiered on to the mall to look for something nice for me to wear out.

Retail therapy really does work. She went home with two new pairs of sexy shoes and I carried back a slinky, black low-cut shirt. It was in fact so low cut that I had to buy a new, especially skimpy, black bra to wear under it. After beers and showers we were back on track. We both looked gorgeous when we left the house that night and for me that was probably the best part of the trip... Dressing up and going out on the town with a sort of confidence in myself that I haven't had in months. You see, you may have noticed a decline in sexy posts or just a general malaise in my writing over the last few months. Certain events have left me feeling bruised, made me question my charm, my ability, my appeal. But Saturday night I didn't feel like an overworked, underappreciated house wife or a forgotten lover. I felt beautiful and clever even if I was a bit out of my usual element.

I must have of blended in well enough because I got lots of compliments. My favorite was when one of the darling gay boys we were out with came up and said, "I know we've just met but I have to tell you I LOVE your tits!" Witty banter and laughs followed and I couldn't blame him for noticing because my tits were amazing in that shirt. Later in the evening he was shocked to learn that I was married, had a kid and even more shocked to hear that I lived on a farm. "You clean up good!" he said "How do you do it? You must read a lot of fashion magazines." I felt incredibly proud of having pulled off the transformation from backwoods drudgery to cute and fashionable. I was also incredibly grateful to my sister for taking me out and helping me find the right clothes, not to mention spending 3 hours in the DMV just so I could enjoy the night. Sis, you rock.

On the ride home I thought about a lot of things. A break from you're everyday will do that to you. Those revelations will have to wait. Right now I have several friends to catch up with and a house that went mostly neglected over the weekend.

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