Fleisher Footsteps: Numbers, BO, and Christmas

So, yes, I know I have been married for mmmm 7 months now, but I'm the epitome of laziness... just got around to going to the DMV.

First off, there is no one in the universe who likes to go to the DMV. You have to wait forever for them to call your number, and it never fails that they stop calling numbers one before yours.

Now serving number B 59 at window number 5...
Now serving number C 45 at window number 3...
Now serving number D 560 at window number 8...
Now serving number C 46 at window number 6...
Now serving number A 7 at window number 11...
Now serving number C 47 at window number 10...
Now serving number D 561 at window number 4...
Now serving number C 48 at window number 7...
Now serving number A 8 at window number 2...
COME ON B 60!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It also never fails that it smells like B.O. in there... why do people not understand the use of D.O.? I mean c'mon! And lastly, it never fails that you see the most interesting people in the DMV. Take the nice lady who sat next to me... it was 90* out that day, she was wearing capri pants, a mesh-ish, jersey top with a stained tank underneath, some old, white Keds and Christmas socks. Now, I love a great pair of Santa socks lined with the eight reindeer and colored green and red... but it's August, lady. Either you need to do some laundry or get a new calendar.

After a good hour and a half of feeling like I wanted to vom, good ol' B 60 was called. Hell yea. I walked up, changed my name, my address, presented my marriage certificate, changed my voter registration, smiled/didn't smile for the new picture, the lady VOIDed my old ID and I was on my way. Almost painless.

Until yesterday, when I got my new license. I was slightly excited, I opened the envelope hoping to see they got my NEW NAME right :) and to see my new address. Well, my name was right, my address was right, but my picture was wrong, all wrong. So. wrong.

For the last three years I've lived with this: