A Case of the Tuesdays

It's about four in the afternoon, but I'll be going back to bed soon--I'm tired again. I pretty much paid off my sleep deficit on Monday, but I'm back in the red again today.

I worked last night, and got locked down for the whole shift, which is always nice. But man, as much as I like it, when I'm done, I'm fried. I probably work just as many downs in a five-hour graveyard shift that most full-timers work during the day or on swing shift, because I don't get any breaks. But I'm not complaining--I'd *much* rather be locked down for my entire shift. I don't make any money when I'm on break.

Anyhow, once the game broke and I cashed out, I hung out for a bit having a beer with one of my buddies and the cocktail waitress. I thought about having a second round, but I was just too tired and I had to go do some shopping. I was just about out of hazelnut coffee creamer (and coconut too!) so I needed to head over to Walmart and pick up a few groceries. Brothaman's gotta have his coffee.

Once that chore was done, I came home, made some breakfast, read all the email that's been piling up, and puttered around for a bit. My plan was to stay awake for a couple of hours and then get down to the DMV right as they opened the doors. My tags expired on the 31st, and the busybodies at my apartment complex put one of those impossible-to-remove VIOLATION stickers on my window the night before. I was going down to take care of it this week anyways, so I was pretty pissed about it, because there is a piece-of-shiat truck out in front of the building next to me that hasn't moved in six months, but it's never been towed.

Anyhow, the road to hell and all that, my good intentions were for naught, and I fell asleep. No lining up outside of the DMV first thing in the morning like all the go-getters in their lawn chairs looking like they're trying to score Aerosmith tickets or something.

The only reason I woke up was because my phone was ringing--it was my boss. Not the poker room with it's specific ringtone, but the boss's office. That's never a good sign. The last time that happened, the whole place was in Defcon-2 because I'd wandered off with the keys to all the cash drawers in my pocket. So I figured there was trouble brewin'.

Turns out, my moment of panic was just a jump to conclusions (but honestly, I couldn't think of anything I've done lately to get in trouble), as my boss had an offer for me. No, not a full-time gig--they needed some extra bodies to deal the Main Event of the Heartland Poker Tour this weekend up at Red Rock, so she wanted to know if I'd be willing to do it. Once I found out that it paid more than twice as much as that free-roll I did last weekend, I gladly volunteered. Besides, tournaments are easy money--no rake, no buying and selling of chips when players go broke, and none of that You-gotta-show-yours-first bullshiat that is so prevalent in cash games. Players can't ask for seat changes, new setups, or any of the other little things that slow the game down, so tournaments are actually a nice break.

Once I got off the phone, I realized that I had to get my ass moving. I took a quick shower and got dressed, then headed off towards the DMV. The first thing I did was to take a bottle of Windex and a copper scrubbie to that sticker on my window. It came off with minimal consternation, but still, I was telling myself that if I find the dude who did it, I'm gonna toss a burning tire through his front window. Seriously, there's no need for that shiat. It's not like I was parked illegally or in somebody's spot or had an abandoned vehicle. But the wax-on, wax-off process of scrubbing the sticker off the window made me deal with my anger issues, and I decided against the burning tire. Instead, I decided that I'd rather just get a bunch of my own violation stickers made and cover the dude's windshield, see how he likes it.

Serenity now--I has it!

I almost forgot to get a smog check, but there's a gas station right across the street that does it for twenty bucks. My truck is still so 'new' and with so few miles on it (still less than 24,000) that they didn't even do the 'anal probe' to it. They just plugged in the computer under the dash, let it run for about a minute, and then gave me the printout that said I passed. It couldn't have been easier.

Over at the DMV, however, it was a little more involved. I stood in line for 20 minutes just to get the proper forms to fill out and then get my official line number. I got G-322, and at the time, they were calling out G-235, plus all of the A, B, C, D, E, F, H, and I-numbers, too. It didn't look good. So I found me a seat amongst the huddled masses, filled out my paperwork and hunkered down for the long haul. Instantly I regretted not bringing one of my books with me or even my iPod. I just had to sit there and people watch for a couple of hours, but I guess when you think about it, that has an appeal all it's own.

Finally after more than two hours, they called my number. Now, I have to hand it to the Nevada DMV--all of their employees are friendly and helpful, which is amazing compared to every other state I've ever been to. But I wish that they were just a tad less friendly and worked a little quicker. I had the chattiest clerk in the whole joint, which was ok up to a certain point, but I wanted him to multi-task and type while he talked.

Anyhow, I barely passed the vision test (I had to renew my drivers license at the same time--it was going to expire in April) because I'd been wearing my prescription sun glasses the whole time and my eyes have gotten 'lazy'. I see fine first thing in the morning and all day if I haven't been wearing my glasses, but once I put them on, I have to keep them on or I can't see shiat. And I'd been sitting there with my sunglasses on and my hoodie zipped up because 1) I didn't want to talk to random strangers in there, and 2) I didn't want to be recognized. I've been living and working in this neighborhood for almost five years now, and too many people know me. And I just don't feel like interacting with the public when I'm not required to.

So when I put my face up to the little vision tester thingy, I couldn't read a damn thing. The guy even gave me a few minutes to let my eyes adjust. I passed, barely, and still don't have a restriction on my license. The license only cost $22, but now I'm good for another five years.

Then we moved on to the registration bit. Last year, I was shocked that it cost me a thousand bucks to get my tags renewed (there were some late fees involved, but not that much), so I was prepared to spend at least $800 getting bent over by The Man. As it turns out, I was jumping to conclusions again--it only cost me $398 this time around. Woot! Still, it's four hundred bucks I'd rather keep to myself, but at least now I'm legal in the eyes of the State of Nevada and the Green Sticker Patrol that lurks around my apartment complex.

After writing that check, I went over to get my new picture taken for my new license. That only took a second, but now all new drivers licenses come from Washington DC--I don't get to walk out with my new one. So they took my old license, punched a hole in it, gave me a temporary form, and said my new license will be here in a week or so. Hmmm...

At that point, I was beyond caring--I was just glad that I don't have to go back and endure that torture again for another year. And as much as I love my apartment, I really don't want to move again this summer if only for the fact that I could renew my registration online or through the mail next year and avoid the DMV altogether if I just stayed put. That right there is enough justification for whatever they raise the rent to when my lease is up.

After the beauty pageant of the DMV, I motored over to Barnes & Noble to use a gift card I got for Christmas. I browsed a bit, but settled on three different cookbooks from their big sale shelves up front. I didn't even buy any sailing magazines, although I was tempted.

When I got home, there were stickies on my front door telling me that I had deliveries up at the office that had come while I was out. I opted to just come in and chill for a bit, and I made some lunch and watched a little ESPN before heading back out again.

I made a quick stop at the mailbox, then the office, where I picked up two different boxes, and then I went over to the bank to deposit another small stack of hundies. The check I wrote to the DMV was covered, but knowing myself like I do, it's probably better that I don't carry around $500 in my wallet if all the bills are paid. Besides, I'm working the next couple of nights, so I should easily pick up a few more Benjamins in tips before the weekend.

When I got home, I opened my mail and packages. The first was from my sister Cyndi--she sent me a big throw tapestry with the Rams logo on it. Very cool, and I'm sure nobody else has one. Seriously, there ain't many folks admitting to being Rams fans anymore, but good or bad, they're still my team. So I gladly collect all of their gear. The second box was from reader Paul--in it was a super-secret family Chinese family recipe book with a bunch of other goodies. I can't wait to dive into that stuff with a vengeance. The rest of the mail was the usual stuff--insurance statement, 401k statement, etc., but I got a $10 gift card to Bahama Breeze and a new catalog from JR Cigar. So overall, it's been a pretty good day.

But still, I only got a couple of hours of sleep, and I've got to work tonight, so I'm gonna go back to bed in the next hour or so and get some rest, because I got a feeling, that tonight's gonna be a good night...

Mikey