Oversight at the BMV, Avoiding Attracting the Attention of Law Enforcement, and “Sexy Time”

 

Just when you thought you’d seen it all, it appears that my Mom, or someone else at the same level of naiveté, got a job at the BMV approving vanity plates.  For some reason the Central Ohio area is notorious for not only the number of but the rather “saucy” variety of vanity plates one sees every day.  I’ve seen some good ones, but this one takes the prize.  I don’t think that the registered owner of this vehicle was talking about Boysenberry Jam. (the quality of this video isn’t the greatest, and the scene I’m talking about begins at 3:59- Granny and her boysenberry jam…right…but it’s funny as hell.)  I can’t see any clean reference that would go with these plates.  They remind me of Borat and the “sexy time” reference.  Now I’m stuck with the Borat in his singlet bathing suit thing image in my head.

Not such a sexy time after all, eh?

I’ve never really been tempted by the whole vanity plate thing.  In my opinion the only thing that having a vanity plate does for you is help to make you cop bait, and I strive not to attract the attention of law enforcement.  I really don’t want my vehicle to be memorable or easily identifiable.  Granted, no one is ever going to mistake a Yaris sedan for a race car, and I’m enjoying the bland anonymity that is one of the perks of middle age.  When I was a young punk I really would have enjoyed having my VW Rabbits painted hot pink, but Dad never let me do that.    I did enjoy- much to Dad’s disdain- affixing every bumper sticker I could find to my distressed old Subaru. 

I don’t think pithy pro-conservative, pro-America tidbits on bumper stickers would raise a cop’s eyebrow any more than an FOP booster sticker would, so I have no qualms about displaying my political commentary for all to see.

One of the nice things about cougardom is that the world at large regards you as harmless.   I can sit back and stare at the young stud muffins as much as I want and fantasize about their hot bods with impunity and no one’s the wiser.  I blend right into the wall.  That reminds me how necessary a pool membership just might be this year.  I enjoyed the cougar pool last summer, but the scenery wasn’t exactly stunning.  Perhaps I will compromise and take a couple of day trips to the lake, or to the indoor waterpark, which I have been meaning to do and haven’t yet.   There is something to be said for going down a waterslide in the middle of winter.

Last night I had to take poor Lilo back to the Vet for her stinking allergies.  I know, she’s part Chow and they are horribly prone to skin allergies, but I’ve tried everything I know to keep her cleared up.  The dogs’ food is corn free.  They are clean and don’t have fleas and crud on them.  It’s winter so there’s no pollen.  The only thing I can think of now that could be bothering her is cigarette smoke.  The other two dogs beat feet when Jerry lights up, but Lilo doesn’t leave the room.  So Lilo is stuck with another month’s worth of Keflex (so she doesn’t get another inner ear infection) and prednisone to clear up her ass crusties and keep her from gnawing her hide to pieces.  The only good thing about all the pills is that Lilo (also known as “Lilo the Inhaler,”  the “Food Ho,” or just plain “Ho,”)  is easy to pill.  She will take anything if it’s sitting on top of a spoonful of cottage cheese, or mashed potatoes, or gravy, or ice cream, whatever, as long as it’s food.  Sheena is the same way about meds- it’s as easy as sticking a pill in or on a bite of anything she likes to eat.  Clara is exactly the opposite.  She will find and spit out the pill regardless of what you try to put it in- even peanut butter.  By the time Clara finished the 30 day course of Keflex she had to have when she was hit by a car and had the seroma where the skin over her armpit was torn open, I was burying pills inside a melty warm cheese sandwich to get her to take them.  I never thought dogs were picky eaters until I got Clara.  Unlike most dogs, she actually inspects and chews her food.  I wonder if all Belgian Malinois are that funky about food.  Ironically, she’s not nearly as fussy about sticking her nose in our friends’ crotches (her nose is right at about crotch level on an average sized person) or up the other dogs’ butts.  But she is a dog after all.

It’s hard to believe that my granddaughter’s arrival is merely days away.  If I had to speculate I would say give it a week or two.  I think she will be a bit early, but who knows?  The baby shower is Sunday.  I have a boatload of stuff for her.  I wish they would come up with a name for her, or I might just have to do it.  I don’t think they will appreciate me calling their little girl “Princess” for very long.

5 thoughts on “Oversight at the BMV, Avoiding Attracting the Attention of Law Enforcement, and “Sexy Time”

  1. I think your goal of going to a Cougar Pool again is admirable. I was a lifeguard for many years, and although we had a sizable cougar population, sadly, I got no Mrs. Robinson action. I want to believe that life can be better for a younger generation.
    Also, you guys call the DMV the BMV? Oh, Ohio.

  2. Bureau of Motor Vehicles is one of those quirky Ohio things, but at least they don’t let you forget that the root word of “bureaucracy” is right there in the title so you know what you’re in for. They do, however, have a special talent for making all driver’s license pictures look like they should say “Correctional Institute Inmate” under them. Yes, I am looking forward to being the cougar at the pool, somewhere, this summer. Sorry to hear that none of the 40 and over set never hit on you in your lifeguard days. I really should just spring for the Y membership and use their indoor pool year round.

  3. I have held drivers’ licenses in three states, and only California takes a decent picture, although you look like you’re stoned. Perhaps that’s just me.
    A further note on my untapped pool cougars of years past–there was one particularly beguiling MILF (although the acronym might not be correct here, as we were never able to determine if she was an M), whom we called “Skunk Lady.” In retrospect, this seems unflattering, but she gained the sobriquet because she had a crazy white Bride of Frankenstein stripe running through her otherwise jet black hair. The effect was amazingly hot, and prompted fevered contemplation as to whether the carpet was striped along with the drapes.

    • I can tell you from experience- very few women 35+ can get by without hair color. That’s one of the reasons why civilized women shave (no speculation over whether or not the curtains match the carpet.) Being that I started going grey at age 26 I’ve been using the Nice-N-Easy #124 for a very long time. It works for me. Just like Henry Ford said about the Model T- Any color as long as it’s black. I look absolutely hideous with blonde hair, and mousy brown- what my hair originally was- is painfully hard to match. Black is black. That way you don’t have to worry about the ends being darker than the roots (or roots being darker than the ends, for those who do the blonde thing.) As to your beloved Skunk Lady, I would have to speculate that if she were not civilized and neglected basic hair removal protocol,the carpet would probably been white as the driven snow- though probably not so “pure.”

  4. I forgot to mention that we were never quite sure if Skunk Lady was ‘normal.’ Some of the guards, myself at times included, wondered if she might be mildly retarded. You would think that this would be an easy determination to make after just a five minute conversation. After months of observation and conversation, we were still torn.
    I still think of you, Skunk Lady.

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