Second, I don't understand why attaching mall-bought plate frames or mass-made bumper stickers with trite slogans on them to your car is considered OK, but if you attempt to express your own individuality by picking a message for yourself, it's considered an act of hubris. You'd rather be sailing? Damn. That's deep, man.
Thus it is that I recently purchased my first custom license plate, of which I was inordinately proud.
Was, that is, until I went to the Child's Play charity dinner last night, at which I attempted and ultimately failed to buy my way to fame, losing by $4,000 to the gentleman stockbroker who happened sitting next to me, and who had happened to have been hit by a diesel truck when he was 13 and spent 5 years under the knife at Children's. The man had a karmic debt to pay, he said, and far be it from me to stand in his way. Also, $20K is a lot of cabbage. At least we were able to give Gabe a five-foot cardboard tube filled with Pocky, and Tycho a two-foot Pepperidge Farms sausage of DOOM, as a way of thanking them for doing some much good.
So, at the end of the evening, dejected and sad from my failed bid at immortality, my possé made its way to the parking lot under Meydenbauer center, where Mary spotted a car with the same license plate as mine, except with an alternate spelling! Imagine my chagrin! I couldn't have been more embarrassed if we'd been wearing the same dress. Clearly, a gamer at the auction was a man with a mien like mine.
I leave it to you, gentle readers, to decide which spelling you prefer.