Tomorrow I start a new job! Hooray! (Can you taste that sarcasm?) UPS, package handler/clerk thing. And don't get me wrong, I don't mind the heavy labor, liftin' boxes, I can handle that. I mean, I know I'm a slob, but I ain't that lazy. Well, I am, but that ain't the damn point. I'm just afraid I won't be able to hold on to the damn job. Maybe I'm just bein' paranoid and shit, but I don't think so.

See, it all starts back in March... No, no, sorry, got that wrong.

It all starts back in 2003... (tingly piano/bell music you hear when going back down memory lane)

I got a ticket. Yup, by cops on bikes. How fuckin' embarrassing! Because supposedly I ran a stop. Which I didn't! (That's what everyone says, no?) But the cops in my hometown are fuckin' pricks. And I was downtown, where the streets are teeming with folk from across the border, so the cops are even bigger pricks still. The point is, I got a ticket, paid the fine, end of that, right? ERK! Wrong! I get a letter in the mail back in March of this year telling me I need to pay an additional $104.00 as a tax to the state. What the fuck?! Two years later?! But I called and the damn people said, yeah, the tax is in effect for people who got tickets in the past 36 months. Now why the fuck didn't they tell me about this damn fine TWO YEARS AGO??!!! Shit. But I paid my mom the money so she could write me out a damn check. Too lazy to buy a money order (too cheap, also, may I add... I ain't payin' that extra dollar! Shit no!), and I had to close my own checking account last year when I had to withdraw all the money to pay for the damn cell phone bill. Anyhow, that's besides the point. Jeez, I'm just ranting tonight, aren't I? (That's what happens when I take a break from this shit.) The point is, I never sent out the damn check. It was due in April, on the 21st. Otherwise, the form said, my license would be suspended. And here I am in May, with a suspended license. Not that I need the thing for the job I took, I ain't gon' drive or anything, I'm gonna work in the warehouse. But I need my Driver's License for verification that I can work in this country. I dunno, all jobs along the border here require "proper identification." I guess they're afraid they'll get some mojado working illegaly in something other than crop-picking.

I dunno, I guess I could take my Texas ID instead, I tell myself, and grab my wallet to make sure it's there. Guess what? It ain't. Holy shit. Where the fuck is it? I hunt frantically through the house for my other wallet. I find it, with a sigh of relief, because I know I have my ID in there. Whatever I don't carry in one wallet, I carry in the other. Phew! Except it's not in there either. What?! Holy fuck-cunt-damn-cock-motherfuckin'-SHIT!!!! Now I really start to panic. I looked for it in my backpack. Not there. In my dirty laundry? Nope! In my desk? Oh, look at that! My beta laughs at me, the fucker. I wish I were a damn beta. I could eat the little motherfucker, though I know it ain't his fault. No, it's not in my desk either, of course. I don't know why I do that, y'know? I always look in places where I know there is no chance in Hell it could be. I mean, I've never put my ID there! And now to top shit off, I can't find my birth certificate either! (Not that I need that shit. At least I got my social security card. Pero sorri. No griin card.)

I got nothin' left to do now except ask 'Ama if she's got it. I know I had told her to hang on to my documents a while back when we went al otro lado. I had no pockets, so she took my shit in her purse, to show the nice pochos in immigration that I am, indeed, a fuckin' citizen. I just don't wanna look like it's too urgent for me, or she'll freak out and fuss all night about it. And she won't sleep. She needs to sleep. We're both fuckin' insomniac as it is. Tomorrow on the way to UPS, I'll stop by the post office and drop off the payment for the DPS. Ha, I am such a fuckin' loser.