warning: cheese withdrawl may cause irritability

I officially hate America’s stupid Dairlyand.

My day started fine. actually, more than fine. but maybe the problem was that my expectations were too high.

I had planned to finally freaking get my stupid wisconsin license. I went to the stupid dmv, signed over my soul plus $28 and took a headshot (that SO added ten pounds) and then. and then?!

and then — they gave a me little white piece of paper in place of my iowa licence and said they’d mail my wisconsin licence to me in 7 to 10 days. ummm, WTF?!?!

“So I have no identification?” i ask.

“No. sorry. But, you can drive with that piece of paper,” DMV stupid lady tells me as though this is perfectly normal.

“Oh. ok. no problem. i mean it’s not like I ever use a photo id,” i say. but the stupid woman doesn’t care that I’m being sarcastic.

ahh, but then she asks if i want to fill out a comment card. and i SO filled out that comment card. Im expecting wisconsin state law to change any day now as a result.

then i drive (legally with a stupid white piece of paper) to my stupid credit union to explain that i STILL don’t have a stupid wisconsin licence.  only i have to take a stupid street, with a ton of random turn-only lanes that turn into straight-only lanes only to turn back into turn-only lanes a block later. and i’ve tried to explain to EVERYONE that the turn-only lanes make no sense, but nobody ever listens to me.

surprisingly stupid credit union people are fairly understanding about me still being sans a stupid wisconsin licence.

then i go to my eye doctor’s appointment. and they have to puff air in my eyes to test for glaucoma. (i HATE that). then the eye dr. quizzes me on numbers and the next year of my vision depends on my answers.

“one or two?” she asks as she adjusts the lens in front of eye.

“two?” i say.

“ok. three or four?”

crap, is this a trick question? was three one and four two or are three and four just three and four.

“four?”

“ok. one or two?”

frick. I thought i already made it past one or two.

“umm, two?”

“ok, two or three?”

wow, this woman’s tricky.

“three?”

“ok”

the quiz goes on for about 10 minutes. i think i passed though, because she sent me off with a bill and some trial contacts. (this is especially exciting because my glasses have kind of been super glued together for the past four months)

I immediately buy some non-prescription sun glasses to wear over my contacts. but then, like 4 hours later the combination of the new prescription and the recently discovered contact-caused peripheral vision makes me nauseous and i have to take out the contacts. and put on my super-glued glasses for the rest of the day.

and i should mention the rest of my day lasted until about mid-night. that’s right I WORKED TILL MIDNIGHT. and now im tired.

and to top off everything, i got a stupid e-mail from someone that put me in a bad mood around 7:30 p.m.

also, daylight savings time has my internal clock all f*ed up.

also, im kind of not talking to the boy i like and i miss him. and even though we’re fighting over something really important, i just want to talk to him. because he’s always on my side. and he never puts me down. and i just miss him. a lot.

thanks for reading my rant. 

im going to sleep now. to dream about cheese. and maybe milk. (but not eggs).

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see, my job is important

So, I kind of live in a town that most of my family on my mom’s side is from ( i KNOW random) and today i went to the local library to find an old newspaper article about the day my grand-grandparents died in a fire. and i flipped through the “best copy available” of the microfilm from the Oshkosh Northwestern circa 1949. (apparently THESE are what they used before computers, or something?) and there it was. on the front page of the Dec. 4, 1949 Oshkosh Daily Northwestern “Oshkosh home destroyed. Burns take lives of three.”

and it was SO weird to read the article. because it was MY family. the people who died in that fire were the people who got together one night (maybe after a few too many drinks?? hm? hm?) and made a baby. and that baby grew up and got together with someone else and had another baby, and after a few more babies — there was me. and they were REAL people. who had REAL lives. and then died. tragically. in a fire. and there’s SO much information in that article that i never would have known if Northwestern Reporter Robert Kirz hadn’t taken the time to write that article.

but because of him, i do know. i know that the fire wasn’t started by my family, it was started by their landlord. I know how old they were when they died. i know what time it all when down. and because reporters used to get more than six inches to tell a story, i also know where my great-grandparents met and worked.   

and it all made me realize that reporters are important, because they are writing our history on a daily basis. and as the media keeps changing, their main goal remains the same — to figure out what happened to who and then tell other people about it so that the next day, the next month and the next century people can know what happened in say, a fire in oshkosh, wis. circa 1949.

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