Typical Day at the Tax Office

So just like last year, I waited until the last second to renew my car registration. Luckily, any time I go into ’town’ (and especially if I’m with my mother) I have an adventure. Anyway, I’m standing there in one of the many long lines at the tax office because Tom Thumb was out of registration stickers (don’t look at me like that, where ELSE would you go to get your car registration renewed if not a Grocery Megamart...DUH).

I was just standing there, enjoying the crowd smells :=}&$&@ and taking the occasional step or two. When I spied a woman who from the neck up could have only been named Melba Puckett. She was rockin’ that ’Jesus Don’t Want Me to Cut My Hair’...do. You know, the one with the thousand twists in it and the only thing holding the whole mess together (besides 15 pencils) is PRAYER. I’m not baggin’ on religion here. I look like I pray to the God of Bacon. Looks, after all, are deceiving becasue HOLY CRAP...from the neck down she was decked out in a HEEE-UGE red business suit with PLENTY (aproximately 58,745) of sequins. I was as surprised as anyone to find out that Carol Channing had a rummage sale in Plano, Texas, but I guess when you get to be 200 years old, you can do pretty much whatever the hell you want to do.

So I go a few steps further and I spy another woman who, probably for better cell phone reception, was sporting a devastatingly smart pair of earrings, each cleverly fashioned out of an entire wire clothes hanger (I’m not even kidding) and colored with what could only have been a Hobby Lobby "Not Quite Gold" paint pen. At first I pitied her poor earlobes, but then I realized that her thoughtful collarbones were acting as a perch for each of the titanic adornments.

THEN, I finally get to the counter to pay my $53.64 for a f*$&ing sticker, when I am almost blinded by the PURPLE GLITTER LIPSTICK on the clerk. In an effort to understand, in a split second, what I was seeing (I imagine it was like driving along in the car and seeing a donkey on the side of the road wearing pantyhose) I scanned the rest of the face and discovered that it was actually NOT a faux pas of cosmetic application. Rather, it was her attempt to distract my attention from the two fruit-bats that she was using for eyebrows. I am not even playing. They were NOT RIGHT. Not in shape, not in color...AND...they were DRAWN ON HER FACE with what I can only suppose was Marks-A-Lot. Approximately one inch above the bridge of her nose they began, squarely three millimeters apart (which for those of you who don’t know is TOO FREAKING CLOSE TOGETHER). Suddenly, and without warning, they bolt nearly straight up to the middle of her forehead and then gently bend outward before plummeting down, down, down PAST the corners of her eyes. I just stood there, grinning like a jackass eating briars, because it was the only way I could keep from bursting with laughter, my face getting more and more red.

I laughed all the way to my still-legal car, but suddenly stopped, horrified at my realization that an innocent and unsuspecting drag queen had just been ripped to shreds by and angry mob of Collin County taxpayers, who then wore parts of her as trophies. It can be the only explanation. I am sure that you will see this on the news when the story finally breaks. Stay tuned.