Because I Know You Care

Let me tell you about my day.

Was feeling a little ookie this morning, so I called in sick.

But by midday I was feeling a bit better and decided to use the rest of the day to deal with some issues that had been festering in my procrastination bucket for too long.

The tags on my jeep expire at the end of this month. We all know how much fun that whole process is. State safety inspection, personal property taxes, lines, lines, lines. We all dread it.

When faced with a looming unpleasant task, some folks tend to take bull by the horns, deal with the problem as quickly and efficiently as possible and have it done.

Yeah, that's not me.

My tendency is to put it off as long as possible and spend my time dwelling, obsessing and worrying about it, churning up gut-acid, vividly imagining the worst possible scenarios, most of which end with me being jobless, homeless and without a friend in the world.

That's just how I roll.

But today I decided "I got time. Let's put this bitch to bed."

First up was personal property taxes. This was the 800lb gorilla. I had not paid my personal property taxes during the two years that I lived in Clay County. I had two year tags on the jeep, so the subject never really came up.

You see, I kinda had it somewhere in the back of my head that the Assessor would just send out a form to everyone who lived in the county and have you declare your personal property for the purpose of assfucking you.

It never, ever occurred to me that I would actually have to take a day off work, make a special trip to the courthouse, and extend them a sincere and personal invitation to shove the county cock up my colon.

So today I had the exquisite pleasure of driving to the historic Liberty town square and writing a check for $678.81. OUCH! Stupidity hurts!

With a declaration that no polyps were found and a PAID receipt in hand, it was time for the state safety inspection.

The first place I stopped had way more cars in the parking lot than available bays or waiting seats, so I didn't even bother. The next place I went said they couldn't get me in till Tuesday, but she recommended the place across the street. They were able to squeeze me in (eww), but they discovered that my drivers side high beam was out.

Fuck.

So I paid my $12 and went down the street to O'Reilly's for a new headlight and a T15 star screwdriver so I could swap it out in their parking lot. That's another $13.76.

I drive back to the garage, flash my brights for them (oh just stop!) and get my safety inspection sticker.

Now for the fun part!! The privatized (thank you so fucking much Matt Blunt, you ignorant fucktard) license bureau office.

Apparently, part of the requirements for getting one of these lucrative franchises is that not only must you perform all of the services that the old state run offices performed, but you have to perform them in EXACTLY THE SAME WAY!

1. Take you own sweet goddamned time.
2. Just walk away whenever you want for however long you want no matter how long the line is.
3. Don't give a FLYING FUCK!
4. Assume that the person across the counter is stupid, deceitful and trying to get away with something illegal.
5. Be eager to send someone packing if their paperwork is in the wrong font.

Two of the three employees graduated Magna Cum Laude from the State of Missouri Employee Bad Attitude course. Luckily, I got the other one. I had my shit together, my paperwork in order and I got in and out with minimal aggravation, but $36.75 poorer.

Next stop was the Jackson Country Assessor's office in Independence to invite THEM to butt-rape me THIS year to avoid the expensive sandbagging I got from Clay County. Best part of the day...there was NO LINE! I was the only person there on a Thursday afternoon!

Schweet!

But I didn't get all uppity about it! There was blue tape on the floor that said "WAIT HERE FOR NEXT ATTENDANT". So I walked right up to that blue tape and waited until the unshaven, pink-eye-havin' disgusting attendant with the box-of-fries teeth looked up and said "Can I help you?"

Because you know how those fuckers can be if you get on their bad side. My day has already been too long to end that way. Huh uh.

"MY LIEGE! You are a Mighty Man and the Omnipotent Ruler of this Benevolent Realm. I, am a mere peasant. A humble petitioner seeking your good graces. Guide me in the complicated ways of my betters. How may I supply you with what you need to make your job easier and brighten your day?"

That attitude got me in and out without any collateral damage to bruised and bleeding anus.

Two more stops on the way home to pick up my shirts from the cleaners and a nicely marbled ribeye from the grocer and I am safely ensconced in Casa Onassis for the evening and sharing the love with you, my peeps, so you can live vicariously through me.

Total damage = $783.67 worth of checks written and debit cards swiped, 4 hours of my precious time and about $10.00 worth of gas.

But I'm legal for another year, I'm about to enjoy a perfectly grilled steak dinner, and I now have the mental and emotional bandwidth to start worrying and obsessing about the $1200 I owe the IRS and the $400 in taxes I owe Matt Blunt.

God Bless America! Praise The Lord and pass the Preperation H!

I apologize for the lack of graphics that I usually include with my posts, but this one would have involved graphic, violent, gay porn and I wanted to spare you the imagery. You can go google it if that's your thing.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.