Dad: Hello?
Me: Hey Dad, think fast, what's your social?
Dad: 555-12-1212.
Me: Do you know Mom's offhand?
Dad: 555-21-2121.
Me: Nice! I can't even remember Rich's birthday consistently, I'm impressed.
Dad: Let me just verify that. *rustling* Yep, that's it. So what did I just buy?
Me: Ha ha, nothing, I'm just going down to the Social Security office to change my name. They need your parents' socials to do it, I guess.
Dad: That's exciting!
Me: Well, yeah. We've been married two years, I figure "no time like the present."
Dad: Ha ha, but it's still a big step! Exciting!
Me: My license is expired, too, so I really need to replace it so I don't get arrested. I figure I should just change my name at the same time.
**********************************************
Poor Dad. I feel like every time he thinks he has girls figured out, one of his damn children ruins everything.
Note to future brides: Even if you don't plan on changing your name, make sure you request a copy of your wedding license when you send it in. I didn't, because I assumed that they would send me a receipt of some kind. [NB: in Massachusetts at least, you apply for the license, the officiant signs it after the ceremony is done, and you mail it back to the state.] This lead to two interesting things. First, I wasn't sure if we were actually married, because in Quaker weddings, you're declaring your intentions "in the presence of God and these our Friends," so there's no real officiant and the Clerk of Meeting kind of just stands in as a wedding referee to explain what the hell is going on to the non-Quakers. The state, however, requires that the officiant be all registered with them and what have you, so I wasn't sure how that was going to work out. GOOD NEWS, WE'RE MARRIED! This is particularly good because I think if I had told Rich that we were only pretend married and had to go to City Hall, he would have killed me and hidden my body in the woods.
The second interesting thing I learned is that the state of Massachusetts will jack you for $40 to order a copy of your license and it will take two weeks. What. the shit, Massachusetts. This is of course ostensibly my fault since I should have paid attention to the "free now, $40 later" angle, but STILL, $40? That shit should have come embossed with gold leaf all over it. Anyway, order your license when you're sending it in so you don't get all resentful and fussy.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
I'm Just Really, Really Romantic: a Phone Call with Dad
Labels:
Ken Brown Secret Agent,
phone convos,
wedding crap
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment