The Natalie Show

NOTE: This post was written 1.5 years ago. Thanks to the prick who stole my wallet on Saturday I have to go back. WAY TOO SOON. Whoever you are, I hope you die a slow, painful death.

Saturday, August 11, 2007 Adventures in the Jersey City DMV

As punishment for losing my drivers license during July’s unfortunate grain alcohol incident (long story short, if you and 3 other people go to war with a large bottle of Everclear, the Everclear will ALWAYS win), I was forced to brave the sea of b.o. ridden, nose-picking, high socks-wearing white trash that flocks to the Jersey City DMV in such large crowds that you would swear this old, dilapitated building is their fucking motherland. Having already delayed my fate for over a month, I couldn’t put it off much longer, as I’m flying to Chicago in 2 weeks, and, knowing me, I’ll lose the only other form of ID that I have (my passport) if I travel w/out a license.

The taxi driver dropped me off at 8:45 this morning, and already there was a line winding around the street. Some twat was standing along the sidelines, unapologetically picking his nose and undoubtedly enjoying the mayhem. It was right around this time that I started keeping track of how many times I almost threw up in my mouth.

In the more than 3 weeks since I’ve been on the wagon, I hadn’t wanted a drink as badly as I did that moment. I silently cursed myself for not bringing my flask or my muff-punching gloves. Clearly, I would be needing both. SO ok, What the fuck is with the outfits that these people wear? On one hand, I’m thankful for these white trash, ill-fitting and tattered uniforms, as they kept me just amused enough to not lose my shit. On the other hand, ew. Who dresses you? Who are your friends? Where did you ever FIND these getups? And they all flock to places like the DMV and the Wawa, like it’s some type of secret society…or a conference of aholes who somehow gravitate towards each other from all over the state.

I hope you appreciate the below pictures, as I risked my life on several occasions when secretly snapping them with my camera phone.

Ok, fine. I actually wasn’t being discreet at all. You know me by now. But I did get scared that these strange beings would quickly realize that I wasn’t one of them (my J Crew Sundress and the fact that I didn’t REEK of Ass, B.O. or Sex Panther perfume clearly screamed ‘Outsider’) and turn on me. This man in the ill-fitting white tee and sexy jean shorts made me really horny.

After almost 3 hrs, I finally escaped from this strange, smelly, and almost mythical land, with a new license. I feel like I just went through a war. God help me, I hope I don’t ever have to go back again.

SO MUCH FOR THAT THEORY. WISH ME LUCK…I’m returning to this hell hole on Friday.