License to Ill

Well, the last physical evidence of my New Jersey roots were swept away by a, not completely disgruntled DMV worker. Man, the DMV is an all around miserable place; it's right up there with airport terminals. In both cases, everyone is imprisoned in a small waiting space, terrified that they'll call their number/row while in disposed or browsing the 5 dollar DVD bin of the Sam Goody. Then there's always the overly anxious guy, waiting in front of the help desk, asking the same question over and over again, not expediting the process but making everyone a little more edgy. And the help, with mysterious computers that have mysterious powers. Oh, and children wandering around aimlessly. The DMV has gotta be the most confusing place for a kid, at least at a store or in the airport there's some tangible reason, a new jar of soup or we're going to Atlanta. But the DMV, man, why are we here, whats that number, why are we here, are we getting anything, but you already have a license, why do you need a new one. No one knows kid, no one knows.

Oh, here's a little something for the kids, our very own Walk for Hunger in action:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdp_rYHEPeg