After this past week, I am thoroughly bruised and battered– both physically and emotionally. It’s been a rollercoaster of a week and I’m just happy it’s done.
There are many reasons for the bruises but the apparent ones come from moving. In true Ashley fashion, I waited until the last minute to pack and get my shit organized. When friends and a uhaul showed up to pick up my furniture (and hoist my sofa back over my balcony), I was still not really ready for them. But move the furniture we did and at a record speed.
The rest of the move was done entirely by myself. You know what? I’m flipping PROUD of myself for that. This isn’t the first move I’ve made by myself (and there were far fewer stairs and no fevers this time around), but it certainly was the biggest. With my lack of packing and/or organizational skills, it came down to me throwing a bunch of random crap in boxes as I wandered the apartment.
FYI this method will guarantee a frustrating unpacking and several lost items that may or may not be important. I don’t recommend it.
Last night I set the keys to the old place on the counter and shut the door behind me. it felt good to be done with that place. Especially to be done with the move. I have bruises all over my body, scrapes and cuts everywhere and I hate to admit how many times I clocked myself in the head with a box. The best thing to come out of this is the fact that I lost a ton of weight–without even trying. I ate like crap and most of the time I inhaled it because I was so hungry. I guess three days of heavy lifting and constantly on the move will do that.
On top of this crazy move, I had the fortune of meeting this girl, signing a lease with her only to have her turn around and demand that I pay more or switch rooms because my room was–wait for it–eighteen inches bigger. She stressed me out all Thursday night and then finally we agreed to disagree and she was taken off the lease the following morning.
This all two days before the lease became official. I still had to move the majority of my stuff and now, had to find a new roommate. Luckily I had heard from a girl earlier in the week who wasn’t able to come up until this weekend. It was too close for comfort at that point but I immediately emailed her (as my friend Morgan did cartwheels in my open living space) and prayed for the best.
I suppose the rain I had on my moving days was good luck because she signed the lease yesterday morning! (and was really laid back and cool) things are coming along nicely at the new place. I spent today gardening (who am I?!) in the sun, enjoying the pretty views of the mountains from my back porch. I have a little yard and tons and tons of natural light.
I’m currently sitting on this back porch in one of my camping chairs, writing this on my iPhone (a consolation for the emotional battering I’ve taken, about which I’m not going to talk about) with a strawberry beer in my little cupholder. I’d say life is pretty damn good right now.
Now let’s hope my iPhone hasn’t made any embarrassing autocorrects.
I meant to write all about New York and how much fun it was (SO MUCH FUN) and about the wedding and all that fun stuff that I did over three weeks ago when I returned to that city that never sleeps (and boy, did I not sleep). Then I worked seven days in a row, developed a drowsiness that wouldn’t go away along with a two week long headache and suddenly it’s almost a month later. Excuses, excuses right?
And now I just don’t feel like writing about it. That kind of happens sometimes.
There’s things going on in my life, things that scare me yet make me intensely happy that I want to write about but I’m not going to, not yet ready to divulge. So what’s the point of this post? To say that I’m not dead? Probably. I don’t really have a point to this post, I just felt the need to write something.
I’m a week away from turning 29. I’m a couple weeks away from moving into my fantastical new townhouse–and I haven’t even started packing. I’ve got summer plans that include a trip to Wyoming, a wedding in Minneapolis and a wedding in New York (and hopefully little road trips here and there). Jess and I have been talking about a trip abroad for the fall. I’m excited for my second summer here in Boulder.
The trees are becoming green, the giant crabapple tree right outside my apartment is a brilliant fuscia right now and we have been having freakish weather that includes thunderstorms, hail, pouring rain, snow and sun all within half hour spans. I’ve been cooking a bit more lately and will be putting up a recipe for some delicious Picadillo as well as a Pineapple Shrimp Curry recipe I conquered (with help) on Easter. I also baked a carrot cake somewhere amongst all that and was riding high on sugar for a few days thanks to frosting and cadbury mini eggs. I discovered Abita’s Strawberry Beer at my liquor store and my life has been made (now if only it could transport me back to New Orleans–wouldn’t that be wonderful?) and have also been drinking New Orleans Chickory coffee.
I have a ton of new music that has been on repeat for the past week–Ellie Goulding’s new album, Glee vol. 5, The Avett Brothers, the new Paul Simon and Britney Spears, to be exact. I’ve been attempting to write something on this blog and to read others’ blogs but I have failed miserably on all accounts. I’ve made plans to go to brunch with friends, have homemade dinners with others and have taken long walks around a lake in misty gray weather so uncommon in Colorado. I saw Water For Elephants which was really good, but not as good as the book (of course). I’ve been trying to plan my birthday party. I have not started packing yet.
What’s been occupying your time?
New York is a sensory experience.
It hits you as soon as you enter the city–even before maybe. That vast skyline that seems to go on forever, the shining lights, the glow that emanates from the buildings. Some call that light pollution. I call it New York’s way of making sure those who retire to the suburbs remember it’s there. It’s the smells of street cart food, a waft of perfume on Madison Ave, and the stench of urine on concrete in midtown, horse shit by central park and unclean bodies on the subway. It’s the sounds of people talking, constantly talking, the shriek of a siren behind the music playing, constantly playing, on your ipod plugged into your ear, the train conductor telling you to stand clear of the closing doors, please. Your constant inner voice going on about how slow the damn tourists are. It’s the feel of the rain on your skin when your umbrella folds inside out for the very last time before hitting the trash can, the wind whipping around buildings, the unknown drops of something you don’t want to know coming from above on a sunny day, the sun warming your skin after winter ends.
I didn’t realize just how quickly I’d adjust to being back in the city. To say it was weird to be back would be an understatement. The bus pulled in through Lincoln Tunnel on 42nd Street and aside from the first five minutes where I exclaimed that the pigeon population had gotten out of control (it was normal), and that NYC had changed so much because I saw landmarks gone and new ones popping up, nothing had changed. New York changed in the way it always changes. Things come and go, the pigeons keep mating too much and I had been gone a year and a half. Of course there were going to be little things that changed.
Friends had gotten new jobs, had gotten laid off, had gone in and out of relationships. Yet they were all the same. There was not one single awkward moment when sharing a hug hello where I wondered what time had done to our friendship. Where I thought something was different between us. Everything was exactly the same. My relationship with my friends, and with my city, had just picked up right where I had left off a year and a half ago.
I still had my sense of direction, still walked fast and still got tourist rage (you know the kind where I want to throw them in front of moving buses? Still going strong.). It made me smile when people consistently approached me asking for directions, even when I had my suitcase with me. I still look like a local, I would say to myself and do a happy dance inside my head.
Certain aspects of myself poured out once I entered the city limits. I stopped relaxing and just started doing, in constant motion like the city itself. I even stopped sleeping three days before my trip anticipating all that was to come. I was short with people, I was blunt, I felt a little meaner. Yet, my personality was shining through in ways it hasn’t recently. A side of me I haven’t seen since I left New York for the last time in November 2009. I was me. Around people who know me inside and out, who I’m comfortable with, who I feel free around. I left my inhibitions on the plane. I had so much fun.
I indulged in all of my favorites–Dunkin Donuts, H&M, Crumbs, black and white cookies and walking endlessly through the streets with music blaring in my ears. I went to my favorite “break-up” restaurant and celebrated the horribly sad music they played, ate thai at my always delicious union square spot, tried new restaurants and bars, drank continuously on Sunday and got caught in a douchebag convention simultaneously happening at the bar I was having my party at.
Walking through the streets, memories rushing past me as the ghosts of NYC came out to play (some good, some bad), I felt inspired. It’s hard not to be when you’re in that great city but I felt the urge to create. To write, to paint, to design. There’s so much of the city I want to share with everyone, of how great it was to be back and how dearly I missed it without even realizing I had been. There’s not enough words, not enough time, not enough space on this blog.
There are more blog posts to come about my travels, about my adventures while there and about my friends ridiculously fun wedding but for now I’m just giving you this tidbit, this morsel, of New York. One thing I have to say is that it’s true about what they say about NYC: it really is the city that never sleeps.
Participating in Chelsea‘s Ten on Tuesday again today! Feel free to answer the questions in the comments!
1. What is a food that you never thought you would try, but then tried and liked?
Ox tongue. I have always been a little squeamish about animal organs, especially if they are organs that can be found on myself. When I went to a Korean restaurant with a couple coworkers in NYC, Joon ordered the ox tongue. I probably made a few faces about it, especially when he suggested I try it, but it didn’t *look* like a tongue so I thought, oh what the hey. Why not? I tried it and it was SO good. Like a really well prepared steak, perfectly seasoned and grilled. Delicious!
2. Do you subscribe to any foodie publications? If so, which ones?
Big fan of Cooking Light and often find recipes online on allrecipes.com, epicurious.com and two of my friends have their own blogs–Doni @ NomadicFoodie.com and Grace @ Gracefullplate.com. All are great resources for food!
3. What ingredient do you find yourself reaching for the most when you cook?
I’m such a carb fiend. Pasta is probably my number one offender but coming in a very very close second is CHEESE. Oh my god you don’t understand my love affair with cheese. Soft cheeses, especially goat cheese, are my weakness. If I have goat cheese in my fridge, there’s a good chance it’s going in everything from scrambled eggs, to tomato soup, to veggies with cous cous. Mmmm. I also love sweet potatoes and kale.
4. Are there any foods that you hated as a child, but then learned to like as an adult?
Pretty much everything green I hated growing up. I was pretty stereotypical there. However, I HATED fish up until two years ago. I love raw fish, don’t get me wrong. Sushi is the ultimate weakness for me. But cooked fish? ICK! I couldn’t even stomach a taste. Somehow, a couple years ago, I started to eat it. It wasn’t until Europe that I fully embraced fish and found myself eating an entire PLATTER of grilled fresh fish on a beach in Essaouira, Morroco. I haven’t looked back since and even have made some fish dishes myself!
5. What do you like to eat that others may consider weird?
Hmm…I’m not really sure. I’ve had to redefine my eating habits and thoughts on food when moving to Boulder. I have many more friends who are vegetarian and even more who are vegan. This has prompted me to try cooking vegan (which is a lot easier than I expected, and delicious!) and even try tofu, something I haven’t really liked before. So yeah, I didn’t really answer this question but I don’t think I eat anything that weird!
6. What is the weirdest ingredient you’ve ever cooked with?
Tomatillos. They’re not really that weird but I had never cooked with them and when I first used one, was so confused by this weird little green tomato-like vegetable wrapped it’s own leafy package.
7. Do you have any major food allergies?
Not a one. I am allergic to *something* but we don’t know what it is and it’s not major. My tongue just starts hurting and my face goes a little numb. Nothing MAJOR. 
(I was actually on a first date once when this happened. Luckily we were able to laugh about it.)
8. Is there an ingredient that you would like to cook with, but are intimidated to try?
Nothing that I can think of right now. I’m sure there’s something out there but I have absolutely no recollection of what that could be. Fish intimidates me a little bit but I’m getting better at it! I know what I will never try again though: roasting a whole, raw chicken. DEAR LORD.
9. Do you bake?
YES. I love baking, more than cooking. I’m excited for warmer weather because then I get to make Tres Leches, a favorite cake of mine that I’ve only been making in the past year. Thank you to my friend Andy for the inspiration and for a post-New Orleans cajun potluck that got me to try making this cake (also known as the Mexican Swimming Cake, thanks to the frosting running off the cake and making a pool for it to sit in).
Exhibit A:
10. If you could go on any “foodie” show to compete, which one would it be, and why?
IRON CHEF! It just looks so much fun!!! And you have helpers. I often think meals would go a lot smoother if I had a few sous chefs (and a secret ingredient?!).
Did you know that you can find Ashalah all over the web? It’s TRUE!
I can be heard a LOT on Twitter.
I tend to go a little quote crazy on Tumblr.
I even have a Facebook page you can become a fan of (and you totally should).
You can see daily pictures of my beautiful face on DailyBooth (or that’s what I like to tell you all I do. It’s more sporatic than that).
Where can you be found?
Do you know that it has been one year and four months since I last left the country? That I have an EXPIRED passport? I am the worst nomad EVER. With two New York City trips and a possible Minnesota trip for weddings this year (SO FAR.), and a trip to Wyoming to visit my bestest and her little one, I’m not sure if I will have the time, or money to allow for an international soiree. The itch is there, however, and I certainly am not lacking travel partners (Hi Jess!).
I miss my backpacking trip of 2009. I miss waking up every day and not knowing where I would be sleeping that night, who I would be interacting with, what I would be doing that day. I even miss not understanding the language surrounding me! Bring me back to the days of drinking delicious cappuccinos at a small cafe in Barcelona, sharing stories with fellow travelers around a warm fire on a rainy night in Scotland, blasting Dido on my iPod while walking the streets of Amsterdam, drinking two euro bottles of wine in a hammock on a roof in Seville, eating cotton candy in front of the Eiffel Tower and eating breakfast in the sun overlooking the Atlas Mountains in Morocco.
There are so many things I want to do, so many places I want to see. I want to go back to Ireland, Italy and their amazing food is screaming out my name on a more and more daily basis, I need to continue my love affair with Paris, give London a proper visit, and I MUST hike the Inca trail up to Macchu Picchu before they close it down. I have to see the Pyramids in Egypt and finally head down under to Australia, New Zealand and Fiji to visit my brother. I want to go to the Galapagos Islands and swim with seals, go to Antarctica and hang with penguins and go on a safari with all the big, scary animals in Africa.
That doesn’t even cover half of what I want to do–not even a quarter, really. I just want to take off for another few months and explore even more, forget about life and live simply again. Find adventure again. Instead of flying off to the unknown, I’ve signed a lease on a fantastic new place, am searching for a roommate (hi, do you want to move to Boulder? SEE ME.) and am getting more settled into my Boulder lifestyle. For now I will daydream about this next adventure until I can actually do it.
What’s next on your bucket list?
I’ve been pretty self-occupied lately; I’ve been listening to certain songs on repeat, yelling at my cat for destroying everything she comes near (latest disaster: knocking the mirror off my fireplace and somehow not breaking it too badly), crying and whining a lot. I’ve been…pretty bad off. But this post isn’t about that.
I am going to avoid feelings and my heart and this whole crappy thing called love and talk about food. Avoidance has always been a strong tactic of mine and I’m doing it right now. So. Food.
I’ve been eating out a lot lately (thanks to that which should not be named) but am also really low on money so after a few meltdowns over money, I started budgeting myself and decided to start eating at home again, as well as bring leftovers to work. My first foray into that was a lot of eggs. Egg salad, scrambled eggs and boiled eggs. Then it was boxed mac and cheese (with some corn!). I’m sophisticated, what can I say.
Sunday I was having a good day at work. Hell, all weekend had been great at work: I sold over $20,000, getting me closer to commission land. At the end of the day Sunday I had a surprise $9,000 sale and I even sang my mom an “I’m going to make commission” song on the phone. Despite all that, I came home and cried because I couldn’t share my good day with him. Then I pulled myself together, went to the supermarket in my dress and heels (because it made me feel better) and came home to make chicken and pineapple tacos, a recipe I altered from Whole Foods (because I had tons of chicken, and no pork). Pineapple probably is my favorite fruit and I especially love it in more savory meals. I figured tacos would be perfect.
So I blasted Mumford & Sons I Gave You All one too many times (sorry neighbors) and made one of the easiest recipes I’ve ever made. Not to mention delicious. Afterward, I wound up over at my friends all dressed up to go dancing but thanks to both Morgan and I being down about boys, we wound up just playing a really fun card game with her mom, aunt and best friend around their kitchen table that took my mind, if only very briefly, off what I’ve been going through.
The tacos have been delicious and my batch has lasted me many days (it’s how I roll). Below you’ll find my modified recipe. Tears are completely optional and not recommended. Kitchen dancing is highly encouraged, however.
Chicken and Pineapple Tacos
Recipe modified from Whole Foods
Ingredients:
1 yellow or white onion
2 20 oz. cans of pineapple chunks (i like my pineapple!)
2-3 chicken breasts, thinly sliced
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, finely chopped (I used less, but that’s because I don’t always love cilantro)
Lime wedges/juice
Steps:
- Cook up the chicken in a frying pan using olive oil until cooked through and slightly brown. While doing this, arrange the shelf in the oven to about 6 inches from the broiler. Set the oven to broil and place the chopped onions and pineapple chunks in a foil-lined baking pan.
- Broil the pineapple and onion for 6-8 minutes or until they are brown and soft. (I probably had mine in closer to 10-12 minutes but I’m at a different altitude also.) Remove the chicken and place in a bowl, add pineapple and onions and then finally the cilantro and mix well. I squeezed half a lime onto the mixture and left the other half of a lime to add later.
- I used a delicious salsa verde to add a kick of spice but a fruity salsa also could go nicely. I also used sour cream since I’m a sucker for creamy things. TWSS?
Bon Appetit!
Apparently I’ve reached the age where not only is everyone getting married, but they’re all having BABIES.Weddings are fun and all but babies? I’m old enough for that? Considering my baby brother just turned 25 and is officially old enough to actually have children (DEAR GOD THAT IS A SCARY THOUGHT), I think it’s time to accept the fact that I’m a year and a couple months from turning THIRTY and people around my age tend to get married and have babies. I will stop that train of thought there before I start a pity party dedicated to my continued singledom.
This weekend, Sunday to be exact, I have TWO baby showers to go to. TWO. I went into Babies R Us with a coworker the other day to pick up some stuff off of our boss’ registry and I was walking around like a deer in headlights. I swear I might have gotten hives. I ended up walking out the door with some cutesy wrapping paper that had the words baby imprinted on them and a diaper genie type gadget which is now sitting in my living room. If my roommate didn’t know better, she may start suspecting something.
I also have more gifts arriving for my other friend (who’s due two days before my birthday!) and need to make another stop at a baby store. I MEAN. *head explodes*
I leave in three weeks from today to go to New York City for a high school friend’s wedding that I’m also in the wedding party. In September I will be making a return trip to New York City for my friend Ray’s wedding. Not to mention the three thousand other people who seem to have all gotten engaged in the past three months. I’m about to send out a mass email telling them that since they decided not to get married while I still lived there, they must all chose one week to get married in so that I’m not spending my entire paycheck on plane tickets back and forth! Fight it out amongst yourselves, don’t involve me, but get it figured out.
I’m kidding, guys.
Not really though.
I’m definitely looking forward to New York City. I need a break from my life here in Boulder, to forget about what’s going on for at least a week. Do you guys know how epic that statement is? FOR JUST A WEEK? Usually when I break up with someone and I’m all upset, I want to leave. For good. Instead, I’m going to check out a condo tomorrow in a complex that I love, a condo that is perfect with all the amenities I want–washer and dryer! Dishwasher! Small backyard!–right in my price range.
I’m checking out an apartment in Boulder that will keep me here for at least another year. For the first time in my life, I’M NOT RUNNING AWAY. That must mean I really like Boulder, huh?
I’ve had invites to move to Paris, Italy, Santa Barbara (Tabitha and her husband–especially her husband–are putting on a major campaign to get me to move there. It’s cute.), Wyoming, St. Louis, Florida, New York…. The list just goes on and on. And it’s all very awesome and sweet and dear god I have the bestest friends ever but I’m not done with Boulder yet. I’ve still got years left in this place. I passed my one year anniversary a month and change ago, I made it past that hard first year and now am finding my groove here. I have good friends and still am in awe of those mountains.
How the hell did I get on this topic? Oh wait, that’s like most blog posts. They rarely make much sense. *shrugs*
My friends are all getting married, having babies, and I’m drooling over a washer and dryer. The road to crazy cat lady is almost complete.
I had a post written all out. All about how I was feeling empowered and strong about this whole situation. I have many moments, hours even, where I feel this way. That I know how much more I deserve. How I will find love. I even feel borderline happy. And then I’ll find myself walking down the aisles of target wanting to scream out WHY? What did I do to deserve this? I’m going to be single forever. I’m not feeling terribly strong right now so instead, I’m distracting myself with Ten on Tuesday from Roots & Rings. Feel free to participate in the comments!
1. How did your parents decide on your name?
So this one’s a difficult one since I don’t actually know why I was named Ashley. I was originally going to be named Meagan Elizabeth. My mother wrote it over and over and over again until, at about 8 months, my mother grew so sick of it that she changed it to Ashley. I think some president had a daughter or granddaughter with the name? At the time it was not a popular girls name and was still pretty much considered a boys name. (Ashley a boy’s name? Just watch Gone With the Wind for reference.)
2. Do your initials (First, Middle, Last) spell out anything fun/funny?
My ititials are AER. Not very much fun there.
3. Did you take your middle name from childhood or did you take your maiden name as your middle name? (If unmarried, what do you plan to do?)
I have no idea. I always have assumed I’d take my maiden name when I got married but that also depends on if I actually change my last name. I kind of like it. Now that I’m really thinking about it, I think I would keep my middle name, even if I changed my last name upon marriage. I am not the biggest fan of Elizabeth but it works well with my first name. 
4. Are you or will you name your children thematically (ie. same first letter, all of same origin…)
Oh hell no. Although the names I have in my head for girls all seem to be French…
5. Did you decide on baby names as a little girl? Did you stick to them or change your mind?
I didn’t start thinking of baby names until I was older. Not that I would remember if I actually did have baby names. I have definitely changed my mind a lot over the years. Which is funny because I don’t even know if I *want* children.
6. Does your family have any names that have been passed down through generations?
Nope. We don’t do that in my family. I am the first one who was named after someone: my middle name is my Grandmother’s. (She went by Betty)
7. Do you look at the meaning of the name or just the name itself?
Just the name itself. If it’s pretty and I like the sound of it, I’ll typically gravitate towards it. If it has a nice meaning then that’s an added bonus!
8. Do you name pets with human names (Sally, Henry) or with pet names (Fluffy, Mr. Bo Bo)?
Pets with human names. My cat is named Zoe, my cat before that was Isabella. My parents cats are Daisy, Roger, Cosmo, Gus Gus, and Lily. Dogs: Kirby and Casey, Shelby before that. But that doesn’t mean that their nicknames aren’t goofy. I’ve been known to use nicknames like Fluffinator or Kitvicious.
9. Are there any names that you have an affinity or dislike for based on a childhood experience/someone you once knew?
Oh yes. I don’t like certain names (like Brian. I dated too many of those with bad endings) and more recently, I really don’t like being called Ash. (and this is a very new development.)
10. What are some of your favorite names? Why?
I go through phases of liking different names. For a while it was Chloe but then my friend named his chihuahua that and I just can’t see past it. I’ve also liked Jacqueline and Samarra. Currently, I love the name Simone because it sounds elegant, classy and sexy and the name Olivia. As far as boys names go, I don’t actually have any that I like. I loved Aidan for a while but then, so did everyone else so I gave that up.
Sometime right after Thanksgiving, I went to get my car registered. It was my first time dealing with Colorado’s Department of Motor Vehicles (affectionately now known as the Mother Fucking Department of Motor Vehicles) and I had no idea that I had just walked into Hell. They apparently hide Hell in a semi-run down little office in a 24-Hour Fitness parking lot, in case you’re looking for it.
Registration was five long hours of getting emission tests, running back and forth from one office to another and I’m FINALLY at the point where I can register my car and I realize that my license is missing. The driver’s license that I had at the beginning of this process was GONE. I searched everywhere; had the ladies looking all over the DMV and when it wasn’t there, I tore apart my car, my apartment, even called every bar and shop I’d been to in the past week, despite knowing that I had it that morning.
Five hours was painful for registering my car, yes. But that was nothing compared to what I’ve been going through trying to get a license.
The first time I showed up to the Colorado DMV with my passport, social security card and several proof of addresses, I thought I was good to go. Except I needed my driving records. OK, fine. Great, I’ll get those. That wasn’t the end of it though. According to the lovely, have-smoked-too-much-pot man behind the counter, my passport, the highest form of ID that I could possess, was not a valid form of ID.
Say what? That lovely man entered into my field of death vision instantly. How could it not be valid? “You have to have your full middle name.” EXCUSE ME? I only have my middle initial, I’m not sure why I only have that but that’s what the US government issued so I just went along with it. I mean, the US government is the highest power, right?
I then spent the next few months attempting to track down my NY driving record. The first time I called, I was given the wrong information. The second time I called, there was a blizzard and the offices were closed. The third time I called, the computers crashed and I was told to call back. Those were just the times I got THROUGH. I called endlessly to just get busy signals.
You see, in order to get a new license in Colorado to replace your lost out of state license, you basically have to apply to be a US citizen. They stop short at asking you to recite the national anthem, although I’m pretty sure they do that too, I just haven’t gotten that far. Today I walked into the DMV with my NY driving records, invalid passport, original birth certificate and a million other documents in my hand, prepared to become a legal resident of the US driver in the state of Colorado.
I hand over the information after sitting for forty minutes in line and I instantly knew something was wrong. She walked into the back with my birth certificate, talked with the same fucking bearded Boulder hippie and they told me that I was denied again. BECAUSE MY BIRTH CERTIFICATE WAS NOT VALID EITHER.
I mean, how much higher can I get?? Should I go up to heaven and get God to sign off that I’m a US resident who can drive and HOLY SHIT IT’D BE EASIER TO STEAL SOMEONE’S IDENTITY.
Not that I’m saying I’m going to, but it’d be a hell of a lot easier than getting a Colorado driver’s license.
Apparently city stamped birth certificates do not count as a valid one. Even though it says I WAS BORN. IN SEATTLE. HERE. IN THE US. AND OMG CAPS LOCK. I need something from the state or county. Seriously, Colorado?? You’re going to make me jump through hoops just so I can DRIVE (legally)??
There better be a box of chocolate from the DMV fairy on my car every single morning once I get my license. IF I ever get my license. Because they will find something else invalid about everything else I bring in. I wonder if it’ll help my case if I bring in my mother, the doctor who delivered me, the ultrasound technician and my kindergarten teacher (I’ll take anything at this point). Can’t hurt to try right?
GAAAHHHH!!!
*stomps off like a five year old having a raging temper tantrum*
