Weekend Update

Breaking News: I am no longer a resident of the East Coast. Wait, what?

Yes, I am now officially a California resident. I almost failed the driver's test but that's because the most incompetent DMV worker ever scored my test. He was comparing it to the wrong answer key, and I argued until he compared with the other worker there, realizing his idiotic mistake. The license picture is also atrocious; the woman said "Smile!" about .5 seconds after the flash went off, leaving me with a confused, somewhat happy face. Much like, I imagine, the first time someone discovers porn. Blaire, I'm looking at you.

So yes, California residency. This marks the most official shift yet, I guess. Now I get to pay high state taxes and vote here! Oh, and have easier acceptance to schools like Berkeley, if that's where I choose to pursue my grad school path.

The other event of the weekend was going to Biscuits and Blues Saturday night (a southern blues restaurant, in case the name wasn't glaringly obvious) and seeing this man:



2 ways to describe him:
1. If Obama was a blues singer, this would be him (oh, hi Maggie!)
2. Sex on a stick. Actual sexual orientation was a topic of debate, but general consensus is that he's living in the right state.

Note: the 2 ways aren't related. I don't see our future president (yes, that's right) as sex on a stick. It would just make me blush all the time.

General other news is that I'm officially a 9-5 slave; the highlight of my week is that the office closes at 2 on Thursday and that I can wear jeans. Yes, "casual Friday" is now everyday. Punch me in the face and get me a red stapler.