Hola, amigos. I know it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I’ve been ass over elbows in problems. First off, I’m finally getting over some kind of flu-type thing. I don’t know exactly what I had, and I don’t suppose it would matter much if I did. All I can tell you is that it made my crap reek worse than roadkill, and I didn’t even want to drink beer.
I may not know what I had, but I’ve got a pretty good idea where I got it. Last Tuesday, I had to spend the entire day cooped up in an airtight room at the DMV with a bunch of losers. The way most of those guys looked, I’m lucky I didn’t come down with crotch rot or trench ass or something.
So, how’d your old pal Jim Anchower wind up spending a whole day at the DMV? Well, the night before, Wes, Ron, and this guy Ron works with named Rob dropped by my house unexpectedly. Because I wasn’t expecting guests, I didn’t have enough beer to entertain. So, being a good host, I went out to get a case of MGD at the Kwik-Stop. And while I was there, I decided to pick up a few bags of pretzels and some of those baby carrots. I’m really into those baby carrots lately. They’re crunchy like pretzels, but they’re also sweet and wet.
Since they had videos for rent, I decided to make a night of it and rented Dude, Where’s My Car? I’ve seen it a few times already, but I love that shit. It could use some tits, but it’s still pretty good.
Anyway, I pile all the stuff into the car and leave the parking lot. A few blocks away, this cop suddenly appears behind me and hits his lights. Man, was I pissed—I didn’t do nothing! As I was pulling over, I started getting even madder, thinking about how I was being hassled for no reason and how the pigs just had it in for me. Turns out, I was all worked up for nothing, ’cause the cop flew right past me. He was going after the guy in the car in front of me. Fuckin’ pigs!
I hate to waste a good mad, so I hollered at the guy on the radio for saying Johnny Winter recorded “Frankenstein” when it was Edgar Winter. By the time I calmed down, I was back home. While I was telling Wes, Ron, and Rob what happened, I realized it was doubly good that I didn’t get pulled over, since my license was expired. We spent the night celebrating my good luck by polishing off the case plus the six MGDs I already had in the fridge.
I had the next day off, so I figured I should take care of my license. I got to the DMV at about 11:30 and took a number. It wasn’t coming up for a while, plus I was a little hung over, so I decided to take a short nap. The problem was, it wasn’t so short. I woke up at 1:45 to somebody shaking me, telling me I should go to a shelter if I needed to sleep. I looked up at the number board and saw that mine had long passed. The lady at the counter said she couldn’t bump me to the front, and that I had to take another number.
I took my second number and sat back down. I flipped through a couple of Road And Track magazines, but they weren’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. I looked around the room and saw that one of the people working the counter was Shelley Drexler, who I knew from grade school. It isn’t like we were friends, or even talked, but I still knew who she was.
Half an hour later, my number came up. I got called up to a window and, sure enough, it was Shelley’s. I knew she recognized me, but she wasn’t letting on. I wasn’t going to let her off that easy, so I said hi and asked how she was doing. She said “Fine,” and asked me for the proper forms, my expired driver’s license, and a second form of ID. I gave her the forms and the license, but I didn’t have another ID with me. I said we went to school together, and that she should recognize me. She said she still needed a second form, and that it was out of her hands. I said if I wasn’t Jim Anchower, then how did I know about the time she pissed her pants in second grade because she was too chickenshit to ask the teacher to go to the bathroom?
Shelley didn’t like that. She told me to get another form of ID and stop wasting her time. I was going to lay into her, but I saw the security guard eyeballing me. I went out to my car, thinking that if I got pulled over on the way back home without my driver’s license, Shelley was going to get it. I dug around my house for half an hour before I found my birth certificate. It was torn and had some weird food stains on it, but it was still valid. I got back to the DMV five minutes before they shut the door.
Anyway, I must’ve shook Shelley’s shit up pretty bad, because when I got back, she was gone. I had to wait a while, but I got my license renewed without any hassle this time, so I guess it all worked out for the best. Except for my getting the flu.
Oh, and the picture looks like shit, especially compared to my last one. That one looked hot. I was all like Gary Cherone.
Jim Anchower joined The Onion’s editorial writing staff in 1993 after several distinguished years on The Come Back Inn dishwashing staff. He comments on community-affairs, automotive, and employment issues. He attended LaFollette High School in Madison, WI.
