Hell is a Goverment Waiting Room

5 hours in a waiting room filled with small, LOUD children and crazy homeless people who think that you shouldn't talk to homeless old ladies because they are wearing bandanas of a specific color, and so they are "flying the rag" or some such crap. Not that I was particularly interested in striking up a conversation with her anyways, but that's a pretty stupid reason not to. Is it just me, or do poor people tend to have really badly behaved children? Don't shoot me for that comment. I have just never seen such a conglomoration of children under the age of 8 who were so incredibly ill-behaved. And most of their parents didn't even make a token effort to do anything about it. Ooh yeah. Fantastic combination, that. Oh, and I forgot my damn CD player (no, I'm not that lame, I used to have a friggin awesome 60 gig Ipod, but it was stolen... the day I paid it off.) I had a notebook and some happy colored gel pens to amuse me. Not even a pamphlet to read or draw devil horns and other middle-school type graffiti on. What a great way to spend my day.

So if you haven't guessed, I waltzed my little (yeah, that's a lie) self down to the department of social services today and applied for food stamps. Because although I am somehow able to sort of pay my bills each month, and sort of have enough food, it's mostly due to luck, sympathy from my friends and family, and some seriously precarious financial footwork. Today I did the math and found that with what I am making, I can pay my rent, car insurance, phone, electricity, and keep enough gas in my car to get to work and back with about $44 dollars to spare. Keep in mind that this is before buying any food. Obviously something needed to happen there.

So yeah. I finally qualified (this would be my 3rd or 4th time applying this year) because I didn't have to file with Erik (apparently, we made $100 a month too much). All I have to do is get a written statement from my "roommate" (i.e. my mom) saying that we split the rent and utilities in half and don't buy or prepare our food together. The payment part is true, but it's a complete lie that we don't purchase or prepare our food together. Yeah. But you know what? I don't care. I am flat-ass broke. I can't even afford to save up to get my kid circumscised. I'm pretty much screwed. I imagine that now that I am in the third trimester, I can probably qualify for cash aid, but applying for that is a whole 'nother headache.

The best part is, I have to go back tomorrow. Someone shoot me.

--dragon

(Has anyone else noticed that I use an excessive amount of parenthesis?) Read more!