Rest in peace, Finnigan.
I’ll be missing you.
Today I severed all ties with my maiden name. No longer am I Aunt Becky Sherrick, now I am officially Aunt Becky Sherrick Harks on all of my proper identification, even the one I had been holding out on because I totally didn’t wanna deal with it.
Oh yes, that’s right, I’m referring to the DMV.
My own circle of hell.
When I die, and I’m brought down to hell and I’m stuck listening to the Sandford and Son theme song over and fucking over again, my hell will look like the DMV. I will be stuck sandwiched in between the dirges of humanity in lines that go nowhere.
A gigantically fat woman in front of me, smelling her hands over and over after scratching her ass admiringly for a good ten minutes. A yokel with a dent in his forehead so large I could probably serve soup from it behind me, mouth breathing and occasionally coughing, his moist breath hitting the back of my neck and making me wish that I had been a better person.
This will be my hell.
Every line I reach the end of, I will just have to get into another line, where I’m yelled at and belittled by someone whose IQ is that of my cat’s and then I will take endless pictures, all of which I will look horrible and awful and nothing like myself. And when asked about my weight, they will scoff at me, rolling their beady rat-like eyes. I cannot POSSIBLY weigh 135 pounds, they will laugh.
Then I will shuffle off to a hard plastic chair where small children will throw things at my head. For eternity.
This. Is. Hell.
So it was with great trepidation that I approached the hallowed halls of the DMV to take the written test again AND to beg them for another horrible, awful picture. The last one that I have of me not only is my hair a different color, but I look like a man. No, really, I do. The picture was so bad that whenever anyone was having a bad day, they’d whip out the ID just for a laugh.
The good news was, I managed to pass the written test and I got a new picture and I even changed my name all without anyone punching me in the neck, insulting my mother, kicking me, threatening me, or suing me.
It was a personal best.
I now am very, very, very afraid for what karma has in store for me.