I…am a chicken. Ok, I really don’t know if I’m a chicken or if I’m a sloth. Regardless of which type of animal, I don’t have a passport. I know, I know. All of you people who have passports are going to rag on me and say ‘Oh, well when stuff goes down here in the United States you’re not going to be able to flee the country’ or ‘You are going to have a Hell of a time explaining yourself in Arizona’ and even ‘You friggin’ moron. Get one already.’. For whatever reason I’ve just never gotten around to renewing it.
Yes, I used to have one. When I was 10. I got one when my mom told me we were going to go to the Motherland (the Philippines) but for some reason that deal fell through. Ergo, the only thing I actually got out of that deal was that she dragged me out of school so I could get my pic taken and shots and…nothing. I think I caught the hives eating strawberries while I played hooky.
Anyhow, out of the blue my loving wife hits me with this today:
Angela: you know what would be good to do tomorrow?
Me: by the dawn’s early light
Angela: getting your passport
Me: ok, ok
Angela: dont you want to oogle your wife on foreign shores
Me: will do it FIRST THING IN THE MORNING
Me: helloooooo skype
Me: apple facetime
Me: don’t you want to keep your money in the united states?
Me: stimulate our economy?
Me: not some damn Frenchies?
Me: topless beaches
Me: ok, tomorrow it is
And with that crystal clear reasoning I’m off to get my passport tomorrow.