I wonder which retard programmed this Blogger software. For the last two months, the number of posts on my blog has remained unchanged, while I merrily add posts. For some reason, I am very pissed about it. And my unhappiness only grows every time I see that counter. I guess its because every time I post something new, it stays the same. As if telling me that my posts are worthless, and hence not worth counting. True, but depressing.
I am feeling like a piece of shit for another reason. I have now been to the DMV twice in a week, and haven't managed to even take the instruction permit exam, let alone pass it. The first time, I dick-headedly chose to visit the only DMV that actually doesn't issue new permits. When I found out, I felt like setting myself on fire. Especially because I had to make the trip using Rhode Island's lame ass public transportation - the bus. Huge disappointment. But apparently, it was just the beginning of my troubles.
The next time, my friend actually managed to locate a DMV office that is closer, and that actually issues new permits. I made sure I had all the documents that were listed on their ass faced website. Signature ID (passport), age ID (passport, again) proof of residence (credit card statements) etc. We made our way hopefully to that shit hole office at 7 in the morning, and waited outside for for an hour, in line with a bunch of people who seemed to be even bigger losers than myself. Wierd.
Finally, the doors opened and we all filed in like lost sheep. After some aimless wandering, I got as far as the counter where I was supposed to get my documents examined. The written test was only minutes away. Then, this lady who looked over my stuff told me I should get an accreditation letter from the University. This was to make sure I was still enrolled in the U. I looked at her incredulously for a moment. I tried to explain to her that I had all the documents that were listed on the DMV's website, and that this requirement was nowhere listed. She gave me a look that left me in no doubt as to what she thought of me. I see losers like you every day. Get the fuck out of here. She adjusted her composure, and said, somewhat daintily that she couldn't help me any more, since I didn't have the letter. I felt like holding her head by the hair, and banging it over the counter. But all I did was to put on my best look of exasperation, and walk away.
No prizes for guessing how hopeful I am of ever getting an instruction permit, leave alone a driving licence.