Last week, I went to the Rhode Island DMV to register my husband's new-ish truck. Luckily, on that day, it snowed like hell---which was great for me---because it kept MOST people indoors and gave me a ten minute wait at the DMV instead of a FOUR HOUR ONE. Yay me.
Being that---according to my darling husband---I am a magnet for whackjobs, I should have known that JUST BECAUSE there wasn't a line at the DMV, didn't mean that I would wander in and out of the building unscathed. No sirree, Bob.
As a matter of fact, on that day? I almost got my face busted by a toothless chick wearing orange sweatpants. Check it...
I pulled up to the DMV, parked Hubby's truck, and trekked my arse through the blowing snow, when I noticed the police "detaining" some dude who had just finished making peepee on the sidewalk. For reals, people.
Of course, I am nosey by nature, so I took my sweet freakin time walking into the building because I wanted to get the scoop on this interesting situation.
From what I could deduce, apparently, PeePee Dude was getting all cocky and shit with the cops.
Had he been nice and said something like, "I'm so sorry, you fine up keepers of the law! I just couldn't hold it for one more minute!" Maybe they'd a let him go with a nice, little slap on the wrist.
But, NOOOOO. PeePee dude was being rude. He was all like, "I had to take a piss! F*CK YOUUUUU!"
So, instead of a tiny slap on the wrist, they slapped the iron cuffs on him and dragged his beligerant, little ass away to the pokey. Dumbass.
Fast forward ten minutes later...
I am waiting in line to register Hubby's truck, when this woman runs into the room and YELLS, to no one in particular, "UM? EXCUSE ME? My boyfriend just called and told me to meet him here because he was arrested for indecent exposure! Where do I go for that?"
Now, peeps. You're super smart people, so I KNOW that you KNOW exactly who she was looking for, right?
This TOOTHLESS VISION IN ORANGE SWEATPANTS? She was Sir Pees-A-Lot's WOMAN and she was proudly coming to his rescue. *Cue the romantic music, y'all...*
Okay, so at this point, everybody in the room is snickering and shit because Sweatpants Susie is being so subtle and all. Then, the guy who was issuing drivers licenses, looked up and over at his colleagues and started laughing.
Sweatpants Susie was getting pissed off because she wanted to hurry up and save Sir Pees-A-Lot from becoming somebody's pokey b*tch, right? So she yelled, "WELLLLLL????!!!! Where the f*ck do I go?"
Classy! I know!
So, Driver's License Man looked at her and said, "MAM? First of all, we do not appreciate you using that kind of language. And SECOND, THIS IS THE DEPARTMENT OF MOTOR VEHICLES. The police station is next door."
Now, a normal person...you know...the kind of person who would typically be embarrassed by having a significant other who randomly pees in the snow like a German Shepherd, would have uttered a simple thank you and slinked her way out of the room.
But, Sweatpants Susie?
There was nothing normal about her, my friends.
She simply put her hand on her hip and yelled, "WELL, WHAT THE F*CK? THERE WAS NOBODY IN THE F*CKIN HALLWAY TO HELP ME!"
Then, just as she was getting ready to storm off?
Dudes. I swear. I don't know what the frig came over me. I glanced up, read the two HUMONGOUS SIGNS that were hanging above my head that said DRIVERS LICENSES & REGISTRATIONS, and mumbled to myself, "Hmmm...Nobody in the hallway to help.....Maybe next time, you could try READING THE SIGNS."
And then? *GULP* I realized that my mumbling abilities really SUCK...because Sweatpants Susie HEARD ME!
The look I got from her clearly told me that she was not above beating the everlovin crap out of me and burying me alive behind her trailer. She was one scary be-otch.
Lucky for me, however, she didn't want to keep Sir-Pees-A-Lot waiting, which is a wonderful thing, because I really like my teeth exactly where they are.
When I got back to work, I told Hubby what had happened. He responded by telling me AGAIN that that shit only happens to me and I am a MAGNET for people who have three functioning brain cells.
Take Sweatpants Susie for example...
If I've learned anything from my little run in with that crazy be-otch, it's that I AM actually a MAGNET for toothless people who have three functioning brain cells.
My only consolation?
If I am ever reincarnated as toothpaste, I will never have to see her again. Halleluia.