my husband sells drugs.
“wow,” i’m sure you’re thinking. “i need to figure out how to have leigh hook me up.”
yeah, yeah, i should be so lucky. it’s pharmaceuticals, and not really even *good* pharmaceuticals, if you know what i’m talking about. if you need the drugs my husband is selling, you are seriously effed up and chances are you’ll be dead within six months. uplifting, i know.
but, he’s very good at selling them. he’s so good in fact, that chances are, we’ll be going to paris and italy (the european ones, not the texas ones) in april because of his sales abilities. in which case i’m going to need a passport.
so recently, i traipsed on down to the passport office. if you haven’t had the pleasure of going to the passport office, it’s a lot like going to the post office (cos it was in the back of the post office) only even more frustrating, if that’s humanly possible.
so i figured that i would share my experience with you, because i learned some valuable information, mostly due to the woman in line in front of me.
1. there is a form you can fill out online and print out before you get there. do this.
2. bring your checkbook. the u.s. government does not take american express.
3. copies of anything do not mean shit.
4. powers of attorney do not mean shit.
5. your ignorance of the rules does not mean shit.
6. the fact that a baby cannot sign his own application does not mean shit. everyone getting a passport must be there, in person, no exceptions, regardless of whether or not they are even capable of holding a pen.
7. your unprepared ass is holding up the line and can you PLEASE move to the side so they can help someone that READ the website before they came down here and knows what the hell they are doing. NEXXXXT!!
7. smiling for your passport photo is strictly forbidden. however, looking like a deer caught in headlights is not only completely acceptable, it’s de rigueur.
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