The lovely Kimbo is getting married on Saturday. I'm driving down. I suddenly remembered that every sticker on my vehicle is expired: Oil change, registration and inspection. I consider all that crap man territory, like lawn care and roofing.
I used to be really good at that changing the oil every three months thing, but now those dudes are using some sort of fadeaway ink on the reminder stickers they put in the window so now I know they used Penzoil, but God only knows when that was.
I also found my registration form in one of my purses, unopened. It's only four days expired. That's the least of my worries. I know for sure my car has never been inspected. When do you have to get new tires? I have no idea. I probably need those too.
I hate standing in line at government agencies and beaurocracies in general. That may be why I ignore these things until I get a ticket. Then you just stand in line some more, but at least I didn't have to stand in line for like a year.
My friend Monica will have a heart attack when she reads this. She is the opposite of everything I said today. The thing is, I don't really care about any of this stuff. I seriously don't think it matters in the big picture, which is the one in which I'm happy. I can just see Mon's face. I told you not to read it!
PS. Mon, I have an interview tomorrow and they are totally cool with summer school. The salary is decent. It's also a healthcare media outfit, so isn't that a coincidence? It's all going to be ok, I promise. I have to go get my oil changed now.
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