Thursday, March 08, 2012


Mike and I went to get our marriage license.

We had to go to the probate court. For some reason, whenever I think of public government buildings like that, I automatically imagine the DMV and lines longer than Disney World on the day they opened Harry Potter land. Hell.

Anyway, the building smelled like a combination of lasagna, really bad cologne, and old Italian men. It was not pleasant. We had to go through a metal detector to get past the initial entrance. It was "guarded" by two Sheriff's deputies. One of them knew Mike and made a joke about how he might as well not even bother putting his wallet back in his jeans and should just give it directly to me. Ha. Ha.

Then he proceeded to not let Mike walk through the detector with his belt on...seriously. I applaud your diligence. Make no exceptions.

Anyway, we make our way back there (after I manage to almost make a few wrong turns despite the clearly marked signs and specific instructions from Mike's sheriff friend). Talk about customer service. There are a few ladies sitting at desks and they ALL look up as we walk in BUT NOT ONE motions to us or lets us know where to go or what to do. And it's not exactly a waiting room type set up, so there is no clear place to sign in or get in line. Naturally we stand there awkwardly for a few minutes.

Finally one of the ladies points around a corner. OK THANKS THAT'S HELPFUL. We start to walk in that direction and Mike notices a bench by a door which must have been the waiting room. As he's walking that way, one of the ladies asks me what we need.

I tell her.

She asks for social security cards and ID cards. We get them out. And stand there. Awkwardly.

She tells us we can sit down.

We sit down.

Then she starts asking Mike questions.  He answers them all with relative ease. Then she starts asking me questions.

- "How old are you?"

Oh crap. 21? 22? 23? No, I turn 23 in April. This is hard. 


- "What state were you born in?"

"Um *awkward chuckle* Cuba?"

- "What marriage is this for you?"

"Um, zero. One."

Crap, what sort of answer is that WHY I AM SO WEIRD.

The awkwardness was only magnified by the fact that the lady we were working with was literally a GIANT. Like...big boned and just large in general. Like, a kind of size that just made me want to see her high heels.

Not to mention she was sporting THIS hair style, but in VIBRANT red -

Anyway - we are officially licensed to wed.


  1. oh man - people are ridiculous. hooray for being licensed to wed!! :)

  2. Amazing! Happy upcoming zero-wedding-day to you!


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