Ramblings for the Evening (10/4/05)

I love rain, but this is getting ridiculous. Up to ten inches? Well huzzah. If I wanted this much rain, I would have gone granola and lived in Seattle near my sister. Oh well. So, without further ado: HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT!
Hockey, Hockey, HOCKEY!!!
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, hockey is back. In less than 24 hours (22.5 to be sort of exact), the Minnesota Wild will be facing off against the Calgary Flames. I'm super excited (seriously...there's some shaking). My wife and I will be up in the second level with the REAL fans. It's nice to see that the Wild is trying to make up for the fact that they didn't lower ticket prices (in fact they went up a little) by throwing a block party. Now, here's the only downside. With Kellogg being essentially shut down at 4 PM, how much does it suck if you aren't going to the game and are trying to get around town?
Still, even though every major news publication is picking the Wild to be bad (Sports Illustrated said that they Wild obviously haven't learned that there are new rules), I am still excited to head over to section 222 and yell my head off. I also really hope the Wild beat the Flames as my brother-in-law is a Flamer (It's really what the fans call themselves...you gotta love Canada) and won't shut up about how they're going to win the cup. So, if any Wild fan is reading this, I call on you to "take out" (as you see fit) any Calgary fan that attempts to come to the arena tomorrow.
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A conversation between my butt and the mailwoman's hand:
Hand: Hmm, what's that?
Butt: Just a humble little butt. I'm just helping to pull some weeds out over here.
Hand: You look like you might be leaning. Perhaps I should put my hand on you to keep you upright.
Butt: Well, I'm ok, but I can't really stop you now can I?
Hand: Hmm. Now that I'm here, how about a little squeeze?
Butt: Whoa there. That's gonna make the head pop up and hit the mailbox and make some pain.
Hand: Oh, come on. What's a harmless little squeeze between friends?
Butt: Hey, I have no way to stop you, so go ahead. Just grab the right side, it's the better side.
Hand: No can do. The left is presenting itself to me, and I have to keep going.
Butt: Sigh. All right then.
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And finally
The DMV (Or Hell on Earth):
I really don't like the DMV. Even when I have something to read (Currently reading a wonderful book called How to Be a Canadian), the place is just horrendous. Honestly, if there is a hell, then it has to be like the DMV. Forget fire and brimstone. Imagine having to sit around smelly seniors, screaming children, and angry and vocal people for all of eternity (even the two hours for me today was TOO MUCH). So why was I there? Well, I had to renew my driver's license. Now because I live in Robbinsdale, I have to go to the Brooklyn Center offices in order renew the license (Robbinsdale only does tags). Three things happened while I sat there that made me think about how much I pity the people who work there, and how stupid most people are.
1. The Curser. A young gal was at counter 14 trying to do something with her ID. I was sitting near this counter, so I overheard everything. The conversation went as follows:
Counter Lady (CL): You need to have proof of identity, miss. Your old ID, birth certificate, that kind of thing.
Girl (G): What? That makes no sense. I wouldn't be here if I didn't need my ID.
CL: I can't give you an ID without something that tells me you are who you are. Sorry.
G: What the fuck? That's the stupist thing I've ever heard. Give me my motherfuckin' ID, bitch.
CL: Please don't swear. That's unnecessary. Bring in the proper ID, and I can help you.
G: (Very loudly) This is because I'm black, isn't it?
CL: (Suddenly nervous) No.
G: Walks away from the counter and returns with two guys, also black. This is the bitch.
Guy 1: You a fucking racist? Is that why you didn't give here the card?
CL: No, sir. At this point the manager comes over. I cannot give her an ID because she says she's that person. She has to show proof. That's what stops identity theft, or even terrorism.
Guy 1: Do I look like a terrorist? Does she?
At this point, the manager closes the counter and asks the group to all move to a private office.
The outcome, from what I could tell, is that the Curser did not get an ID. She screamed about the "Motherfuckers" as she left the place.
2. The Unattended Kid. A kid who was 3 or 4 was not being watched by anyone. He was just running around the entire place, pushing legs out of the way so he could run through the seating area. After annoying the old couple in front of me for ten minutes, the kid, who was obviously sick, turned and (oh how I wish I was lying) puked on the floor next to the woman's purse. Now, after doing that, he just continued to run around. No one came to apologize, no parents, or
anything. I ended moving because it smelled quite foul. Several of us told the people at the counter about it, but we never saw a custodian or anything.
3. The Angry Counter Guy. Wow, Jim at counter 4 was pissy today. Sure it was warm in there, and there were alot of people, but jiminy, there was no reason to cut my head off because I hadn't filled in the "county" box. I wasn't sure what to put. Was it Henn? Henne? Sorry. Then, when we did the vision test, he was mad about the way I put my head into the machine. Huh? I didn't realize that I wasn't supposed to rest my head on the black bar that says, "Place forehead here." Sorry that I follow written instructions. Sheesh.
Then again, what do I know? I actually stop at Stop signs. I could be wrong.