Tag Archives: New Mexico problems
Welcome to a two-part blog about being home for the holidays. If anyone read the blog about my parents visiting me for a *WEEKEND* then lawd knows me being home for two weeks unrolls enough material
for a novel two whole blogs.
This “Part I” blog will cover the living situations I’m subjected to when I come back to live in the house I grew up in for a short period of time. “Part II” will cover things that happened outside the home, you know, like my parents’ form of currency (all but trading livestock and rubies) and handing out bottles of vodka for Christmas.
but more on that later.
We’ll start from the very beginning. I flew from Dallas Lovefield to Midland Friday, Dec. 19. I did not know until moving to Dallas how *shocking* it was that I don’t fly directly into my hometown. Mind-blowing, I know, but somehow Metro Carlsbad, U.S.A., doesn’t have its own international airport yet. It’s coming. I’m sure.
Until then, us peasants have to fly into a nearby city, and drive to where I live. It’s like living in the 1800s.
I landed, and my BEST FRIEND WHOM I HAVEN’T SEEN IN TWO YEARS picked me up, so it was really exciting (hi ryan). I told him I was tired and jet lagged and that I needed Dairy Queen. He said I landed in the same time zone but okay.
We “brunched” the next day (we ate our first meal in Carlsbad at noon and subjected ourselves to wine-based margaritas). Then he came over to my house in its pre-big-family-dinner stage.
AKA the trenches of WWII. AKA before their pack-mule-daughter-slave has had a chance to clean the house for the big family dinner. Imagine an abandoned house-size storage unit.
If you’d like to see it for yourself, JUST WALK BY OUR HOUSE THAT IS BASICALLY A FISH BOWL. IT’S A HOUSE MADE OF HUMAN-SIZED WINDOWS.
And don’t get me started on the Wi-Fi.
Maybe it’s just my house, maybe it’s the whole town, I’ve yet to bang on neighbors’ doors asking for Wi-Fi services. I swear the Wi-Fi is conducted by a hamster running on a wheel somewhere in the corner of a closet in my home. A fat, tired hamster.
It’s so bad, that even though I have Wi-Fi turned on on my phone, I’ve used up all my data for the month. ALL OF IT. 100%.
If you want to drown your overcharge-data woes in food, then good luck to you when staying at The Neals. I swear, I have no idea what my parents eat when I’m gone.
Contents of the pantry:
- Four-six opened bags of half-eaten sunflower seeds
- Condensed milk
- Bags of dry rice
- Two of the largest bins of Folgers coffee sold in the world (AKA THE COFFEE-ARMPIT OF AMERICA)
- Apple cider vinegar (my mom “craves” this which I can’t even comment on because I’ll gag)
- Seventy-three plastic bottles of varied syrups and honeys
- Angel food cake
- One lost sweet potatoe
- Literally every type of nut sold in south-eastern New Mexico (walnuts, peanuts, pistachios, almonds, NAME A NUT, THE NEALS WILL HAVE IT)
- Morton salt
- Hot chocolate packets probably from 2007
And in case you don’t believe me, or care to see the meticulous organized fashion in which the pantry is arranged, please do see the image below.
The fridge is no better. It’s avocados, ginger root, an full, uncovered head of broccoli. All kinds of milk except normal milk. So almond milk, rice milk, goat milk, soy milk. I’m not kidding. And then like four thousand liquid vitamins.
This is a come-home-for-christmas nightmare. WHERE IS HOMEMADE CHEESECAKE, DIRTCAKE, ENCHILADAS OR SOMETHING I CAN REALLY HATE MYSELF FOR EATING?????????????? I DON’T COME HOME TO GO ON A DIET, I LEAVE HOME FOR THAT. HELP ME.
No one is safe until there is a family dinner, after which there is a surplus of leftovers.
No one is safe when you’re sleeping either.
Or at least not in my room, where A WINDOW (CONCEALED BEHIND THE SHUTTERS) HAS BEEN OPEN SINCE I’VE BEEN HOME. So when a cold draft blew in last Tuesday, I GOT A COLD AND I HAD IT FROM WEDNESDAY NIGHT-SATURDAY. Why was the window open? TO ACCOMMODATE FOR A POWER CORD FOR THE FRONT PORCH CHRISTMAS LIGHTS.
My mom actually made me the best homemade chicken noodle soup and I’m fine now but it’s hard, y’all, everything is hard.
Other than said events listed above, it’s been a lot of old movies and basketball watching since coming home. I decided I’m a ~*~ D i E h A r D ~*~ Cavaliers fan now. I even liked them on Facebook. I’ll probably blog about it. So it’s official.
I’ve also been googling the price of misc. cars. So apparently I’ve had a sex change since being home. #Basketball #Cars. #ok #bye
Becoming a Texas resident is simple. Just follow these tried-and-true steps from someone with firsthand experience.
Step one: Vehicle registration and inspection.
Gather your relevant paperwork and Google maps your way to the nearest sketchy auto shop that will rip you off by doing something Texans call “inspecting your vehicle.” Your car will ALMOST be able to pass this test. But as it turns out, you won’t. You definitely won’t. Why? You’re a gangster. You ride dirty on the streets in your less than 25% window light transmission tint.
|Non-Texas residents rolling around Dallas without having their windows inspected.|
Step two: Pay four thousand million dollars de-tint and re-tint your windows.
You will have to take off work for this. Then spend a Saturday afternoon there. Because de-tinting means re-tinting and it takes too long to do it all in one trip. Also, this will be a hundred thousand dollars out of your weekly Mint spending allowance. Not that you follow it anyway.
Step three: Go back to get inspected and not have Texas insurance
OH YEAH LOL you didn’t know you were supposed to have Texas auto-insurance??? Lolz like duhh who DOESN’T know that???? WHO doesn’t KNOW that???????? Now you can call God knows who to get your New Mexico insured vehicle transferred to some Texas policy. This is exciting because it gives your parents another opportunity to ween your financial needs off of their payroll. ENJOY ADULTHOOD!! AUTO INSURANCE IS $65-100 PER MONTH!!!
Step four: Get auto insurance in Texas and print out a crap ton of papers to prove it to everyone throughout the following steps
Step five: go BACK to the FREAKING auto place
The staff of this establishment OFFICIALLY HATES YOU. But at least your inspection is complete and you finally have all the necessary paperwork needed to follow the next steps.
Step six: Lose the necessary paperwork needed to follow the next steps.
The kind woman on 500 Elm street breaks the news to you. You’re missing the “out of state” inspection paper. Okay. Ok. O. K. ok. k.
Step seven: Go. Back. To. The. Inspection. Shop.
They claim they gave it to you. YET WHY DON’T YOU HAVE IT. That’s okay because the auto shop inspection car place and vehicle registration office are both downtown. After retrieving the correct paper from the auto shop, you go back to the registration office.
Step eight: Check your glove box and find the paper you needed all along.
Step nine: WTF is a lienholder???????
I graduated a four year college and managed to scrape by without being properly taught the definition (or existence) of the word “LIENHOLDER.”
You will be asked this by the kind woman at the registration office.
You’re so close to getting your vehicle registered, you. can. almost. taste. it.
You call your mom. You call your dad. No answer. No answer. The lady is looking at you with sympathy. Oh, poor spoiled newly grad white girl. Lienholder, lienholder, if you know if you’re a lienholder, good for you, if you know if I’m one, THAT MAKES ONE OF US.
Step ten: The registration lady decides it’s not that big of a deal and tells you to get in line.
Pay another unexpectedly high amount for two Texas metal plates.
Step eleven: BASK IN THE GRATIFYING FEELING OF FINALLY OWNING THE COVETED TEXAS LICENSE PLATES.
Walk out of the office feeling elation. Tweet that you’re almost done with the New Mexican turns Texan process.
|You’re not a New Mexican, not yet a Texan.|
Step twelve: Put them in your car and never actually get to putting them ON your car
Step thirteen: Ask off work to go to the DMV
Now here comes the exciting stuff!!! Getting the ID!! It’s finally happening IT’S HAPPENING!!!
Step fourteen: Enter the wrong location in Google maps
How did that happen? No really. How. Did. That. Happen.
Step fifteen: Parallel park and use all your quarters to pay for an hour and a half of parking
Quarters lost a little of their luster after leaving the dorms freshmen year and not having to pay for laundry BUT STILL. $1.50 DOWN THE DRAIN.
Step sixteen: Realize it’s the wrong address.
Step seventeen: Put the right address into your Google maps.
Step eighteen: Sign in online to the DMV
I’m so on the ball! You tell yourself. Score!
Step nineteen: Get UNCANNILY lost driving to the right location.
Step twenty: Lose your spot in line at the DMV.
Step twenty-one: Find yourself in an exit only lane to Houston.
GAWD HELP US ALL.
Step twenty-two: Curse to Siri out loud alone in the car and finally arrive to said destination 48 minutes later
Whatever. You made it. You’re alive. You’re free. World peace.
Step twenty-three: Go through the ID process three times
Congratulations! A colonial woman has time-machined her way into 2013 and landed in your local Department of Motor Vehicle office. She will be assisting you with your final steps to becoming a Texas resident today. She has never used electricity, but she will DEFINITELY be entering your data into the computer program today.
Okay, I’m a patient person. I am. Or at least I hate confrontation, don’t have a backbone, can’t stand up for myself, especially to strangers, and often times that’s just as good as patience. My personality is so laid back and care free, I practically invite people like this to screw up, just because they know I won’t say anything.
But what KILLS ME is the picture that is my future ID. Now, I’m a girl, so I’m obligated to be a little vain when it comes to the face that will have to be inside my wallet every day for the rest of my young life.
The first time my picture was taken, it was as if the Texas resident angels looked down upon me and shed their goodness and light.
|What my first photo for my Texas ID looked like.|
I did the awkward machine signature, did the thumbprint thing, ya da ya da. The woman prints out the ID with my first name as my last name. It’s fine. Process round two.
The second time I took my photo, it wasn’t as great, but whatever.
|My second picture taken for my Texas ID. Not my best, kind of quirky, but whatever.|
Whatever. whatever. Signed the machine, thumbprints, colonial woman enters the data, lalala okay. okay.
NAMES. STILL. WRONG. Three-four seemingly colonial women are now crowded around the computer technologies in efforts to order the names right.
MUST. TAKE. PICTURE. AGAIN.
|The third picture taken for my Texas ID. This is only a fraction of an exaggeration.|
After the lady shows you your picture, you shudder, but you don’t have the heart to make her take your picture AGAIN. You deal with it internally.
Step twenty-four: Become a Texas Resident
|You’re finally a TX resident. Bask.|