Don't Mince Words

As enticing as the DMV offer was, I knew I couldn’t renew my driver’s license by mail. My picture was a cross between a Nick Nolte mug shot and a Cyndi Lauper album cover. When I moved to California, I wasn’t aware they put weight on your driver’s license, so I didn’t lie. It was time to go in for a personal visit to correct all these errors.

I selected the week before Christmas thinking everyone would be shopping and it would be low volume pain-time at the DMV. I got there and discovered there’s no off season at that place.

Coiffed and slathered with makeup, I was ready for combat. I stood in line to get my number and waited 15 minutes for my number to be called. Window 10 Jesse looked at me funny when he pulled my record.

“You are eligible to renew by mail. Why are you here?” he asked.

“I need a new picture and my weight has changed. I need a license I can live with for a few years,” I explained.

While he did his data entry, I memorized the eye charts above his head. I had an eye exam the week before and was told my distance was fine. But was that an F or a P? Thankfully, I passed the test, so I can continue to drive visually unaided.

I paid $26 and proceeded to window B for my new picture. Lipstick on. Hair fluffed. Clothes straightened. I smiled big.

“Oh wow,” Window B boy exclaimed. “I’m not supposed to show customers their pictures, but take a look at you. This is the best one today.”

I had a Joker grin, shiny cheeks, and a slight double chin. Window B boy asked me if I wanted a do over. I decided no – I’m always going to look like a clown at the DMV portrait studio. I was more proud of possessing a license with my goal weight printed on it. I’ll get there one day, but if the cops ever pull me over, I’m not worried. They’ll recognize the cheeks.

My holiday postcard minimum print run is 500. My card list is 200. Each year I try to find ways to distribute the excess. I’ll hand them out in the office, to the guards, to the postman, and to waiters with the tip.

This year I got a little creative with the extras. I decided to serve my country by mailing these things to the troops in Iraq. I assumed they’d bring great joy IF the boob and leg exposure wasn’t stopped short at the border.

I opted to go with Any Sailor given my ties to the Navy (and because I love saying “Hello Sailor”). These poor guys have pretty decent duty stations compared to the Air Force missile cornfields and Army bases inland. So imagine leaving a cushy port town and being sent to a sandy destination with burqas, not bikinis. That’s gotta really suck.

Today I received my first thank you call from a petty officer stationed in Kuwait. He wanted to let me know my sense of humor was tremendously appreciated. “We get so much mail from 9 year-olds and grandmothers. It’s nice to have a woman write that is intelligent.”

Apparently, I have nice legs too, but that could be the sun blindness talking.

So, no matter what your political affiliation may be, I strongly encourage you to send some kind words to those serving in the war. A little goes a long way during the holiday season.

I have a new hobby and it’s one I thought I’d never take up – at least in Los Angeles. It’s part Heathers and part Mean Girls and it gives me great satisfaction.

My new pastime is rejecting men. Well, wait. I’ve been rejecting men for years in this town, but now I have a new, honest comeback to their “hey you want to go out” requests.

“That’s nice of you, but no, I have a boyfriend,” I say. Then I hang up giggling while jumping on my bed and twisting my hair. This is something I don’t get to say often and it’s liberating.

This boomerang guy and I have had three dates in three years because he’s a flaky writer who also does production on the road. Our annual conversations are about our writing projects with a dash of personal catch-up. Boomerang was shocked and disappointed I wasn’t available.

“Well congratulations. Let me know when you break up,” was his response.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, because if I were ever to be single again, you’d so be there for me.

Thanks, but no thanks. Real Guy is more than enough for me right now and he’s already survived three dates with me.