Stamped

Today I took my birth certificate, my drivers' license, thirty dollars, and my ass to the Orange County Courthouse to apply for my passport. I don't know where I'm going, and I don't have the funds to get there anyway; this is probably a good thing, as it took me half an hour to find the door to the courthouse. Hell, it took me ten minutes to find the courthouse, all 27 floors of it. So it probably isn't a tremendously smart move, me leaving the hemisphere.

The clerk made me raise my right hand and swear to the accuracy of my application, which took me aback. Way back. I wish I'd known this was coming. If I knew I was going to be swearing to Official Government Business, I totally would have brought the family Bible and a weeping, hat-wearing friend along to hold it for me. As it was, I was wearing scuffed sandals and answered the oath with an extremely lame "Uh--Yeaaaaah-- I do." Things will go much more smoothly when my Presidential administration begins.

email direct Sydney fare to: blondechampagne@hotmail.com