meanies and TVs

I have two things to complain about today -- the DMV and Spike Mendelsohn.

First, let's get the DMV out of the way. F*ck that place. I realize the Department of Motor Vehicles isn't in the customer service business considering there's no competition there, but seriously -- suck it. It's like they're looking for reasons to yell at you.

Por ejemplo: I went to the Georgetown location yesterday to register a vehicle that had I known would cost me a whopping $462 to do, I would probably have just sold the damn thing and bought a nicer bike. But alas, when I finally got to the front of the line and asked politely how much the whole thing would cost I was told, "I dunno," through the scowl of a surly woman. Now, at this point, I probably should have known better than to think I could possibly get any useful information out of this DMV dickette, but I decided to press a little further anyway: "So, like, around $50 maybe?" This is when things got ugly.

"Look," she said, drawing out the word long enough to remove her glasses in that way that people do when they want to affect a sense of smug superiority. "I told you: I. DON'T. KNOW!"

"Really? There's not some sort of standard fee for these things?"

Instead of answering that sensible question, she decided to yell at me about the my documents, which I had filed and then paper-clipped in order.

"Where is the insurance information?!"

"In your hand."

"I also don't see the original title here!"

"It's signed and stapled to the lien information." I paused then added, "In your hand."

She looked at me and grimaced then shoved a clipboard and a number in my hand and screamed, "Take a seat! NEXT!"

"Do I bring this form back to you or...?"

"I SAID TAKE A SEAT!"

At that point, I walked away and vowed to come back with a hidden camera. That woman seriously has no business being in any profession that has her talking to people all day. In fact, I wouldn't even trust her to clean up after animals in the zoo. Or take care of plants. Basically, she shouldn't be allowed to deal with anything living. Or maybe even dead. I can just imagine her in a morgue using the bodies as punching bags to take out her aggressions from having such a sh*tty life.

I pity that fool.

And I'm not the only one. While I was waiting for my number to be called, I witnessed another woman get into a screaming match with this bitch. Apparently, the woman, a foreign national, was told to come over to the Georgetown location while at some other location because, although it's nowhere to be found on the DMV's website, the only locale that has the wherewithal to deal with green carders is the Georgetown facility. Welcome to America?

Jeez, what a sh*tshow.

I guess the moral of this story is don't drive in DC. Ever. EVER! Ride a bike instead. Or walk. Or take the Metro. Ride the bus. ANYTHING! Just save yourself...

In other complaints, what the hell is up with this Spike Mendelsohn character? I watched Top Chef DC last night and saw him for the first time as a guest judge. I didn't watch the season he was on but has he always come off as a gigantic overrated assface? (Albeit a good-looking assface.)

I mean, he owns a BURGER shop and a PIZZA place. I'm not sure what makes him qualified to look down his rather lovely structured nose at this new batch of contestants, especially when he didn't even win his season (thank you, Wikipedia). And if he really is such a superior chef, why is he wasting his talents on burgers and pizza? No burger place will ever make a better hamburger than most people can make on their own backyard grills and no pizza place will ever beat what you can get for $2 on the streets of Brooklyn. Am I right? No really, am I? If there's better pizza than New York pizza, please tell me where to get it and don't give me that bullsh*t about Chicago deep dish because to the rest of us that's called a casserole.

Of course, the irony here is that I'm judging the choice of judges on a cooking show when my idea of cooking surmounts to cracking open a can of beans and roasting them over an open trash-can fire...

But hey, unlike the surcharges at the DMV, at least you know the price of visiting The Anti DC. That'll be 462 brain cells, thank you.