On License Plates

When I was 14, I imagined that whatever car I got when I was old enough–likely a "shaggin' wagon," but without all the sex and more of the awesome toys–would have a custom license plate which I could easily remember. Specifically, "R2D2-C3PO." I was a nerd.

But the last year or so I've been noticing that a lot of other people on the road were much bigger nerds than even I was, because they went ahead and got their dorky custom plates done. I know a kid from high school who got "ROADHEAD" branded across the front and back of his car. I saw one plate last weekend that read "TIME2RUN." … No it's not. Actually, if you're in your car, that's the one time it should be impossible for you to run. That's just what it means to drive a car. What's wrong with you? Maybe a week before that I saw a swanky Mercedes where the license plate said "FRESHH," though with tinted windows and my position to the rear, I was unable to verify the potential status of any dice in the mirror. However, since there was that extra H at the end, I feel that it is safe to assume "FRESH" was already taken and thus this car was was anything but rare.

Here's a few more gems.

Okay. So, you're a nanny. In real life. Truthfully, I'm not sure if you're trying to allude to being British and an insanely talented child care expert, or if you modeled your adult life after Fran Drescher's early-ninties sitcom. Were you working at a bridal shop in Flushing, Queens until your boyfriend kicked you out in one of those crushing scenes? Did you then attempt to sell makeup door-to-door in ritzy neighborhoods and pass yourself off as an agent nanny to the single, wealthy widow father with no other option? Did the house mysteriously reverse its layout after the first day and then did you get married to the man after only five years of pussyfooting around the issue? You're driving a Mazda, so I'm guessing the first one.

Here's a winner. Again, I am left with two, maybe three possibilities as to the owner's life. Possibility the first: You are very sure of yourself, like yourself, in fact you have great self esteem. You also speak Spanish as your primary language. Possibility the second: You are exactly what I said above, but you are not Spanish. You are in fact a native English speaker, however you are so happy and contented by your life that when the DMV told you "MAGNIFICENT" was two letters too long and all permitted variations were taken, you sad, "That's fine!" and took what they could give you. Option the third: You are a magician.

Alright, technically this is yet another bumper sticker, which I have expounded upon at length, but I really just don't know what this is. I think it's a wildcat, but there are a lot of different connotations to what kind it is. Tail's too long to be an ocelot of bobcat, so if it's for a third-party democratic political system, they're maybe mountain lions? I guess that'd be some constituency out in the Rockies. I found it in New York, though, so it might be from Appalachia. Have hillbillies discovered sticker printing yet? Maybe it's just suggestive of a strong, third option to the donkeys and elephants, a new possibility for a new age. Maybe it's not for anything particular, but rather a call to break party lines and try something new. Or it's a house cat.
Crazy Cat Lady/Mr. Fluffles 2012!

Also note the "1," implying there was already someone with
an "El Che" license plate in New York. Ah, comodificatio

Oh yes, I'm sure that becoming a vanity plate on some douchebag's Xterra was exactly what Ernesto Guevara had in mind when the Bolivians set him on his knees and shot him in the head, defiantly screaming "Shoot, coward! You are only going to kill a man!" Yes, and no, putting a communist revolutionary's name on your $28,000 gas guzzling, camo-green SUV–which by the way is made in Brasil, just 1,000 miles from where he was executed–is totally rad idea. I'm sure he would have really appreciated the irony. It's not like his head on a million mass produced t-shirts is already too much of a burden. I'm pretty sure if you dug down into his grave, you'd find him spinning so fast you could use him as an electrical superconductor.

And here's my newest find. "LOL FWD." I don't really get it. I'm guessing "LOL WTF" and "LOL FTW" were already taken, but again, never waste a perfectly good wait in line at the DMV. This must be the guy who sends out like 30 emails a day, all of them passed around so many offices so many times that they're filled with 60% indented headers and sparkly, animated signature attachments, so that by the time you finally get down to the original message, which has been gratuitously pumped full of extra line breaks, it's not even worth clicking through the virus scans to get to the poorly photoshopped pictures of kittens being naughty.

That or this guy's just laughing about never driving backwards.


Update! - 2/23/11

Here's a "gem." (So sorry.)

Hypothesis one: somebody really, really thought Jem was truly outrageous.



Hypothesis two: a Jewish diamond merchant is very set on telling letting you know what he does for a living, but might be somewhat conflicted about driving a Volvo.


*Please note, these photos were almost exclusively taken in manners that impeded my natural driving ability, however I'm so good at driving that just meant I drove about as well as the average person. And I mean traffic was pretty much dead, anyway.


Update! - 4/13/11

I was at the doctor's office a while back and noticed this little wonder. "MD 4 Tummy." Sure, you sound like a six year-old or an awkwardly slapped-together crossword puzzle, but in absolute fairness I don't think there's any way to fit "GASTROENTEROLOGIST" on your car's plates. Maybe if you have like three cars. Like strapped to each other. But then I suppose you've got to deal with having license plates that say "GASTRO," "ENTER" and "OLOGIST," and no one really wants to be mistaken for the possible communist dictator of Cuba, a sexually promiscuous individual or a cocky man of infinite accreditation.

 This isn't actually  license plate, but it's just kind of perfect to note here. I actually have a pair of those fuzzy boobs somewhere. I think I got them as a 17th birthday present. Gonna say Dean got them for me. maybe in conjunction with Jay? That sounds like them. And that is, yes, a pair of panties hanging from the rear-view mirror as well.

I actually snapped this photo sitting in  Burger King parking lot late one night as Dean scarfed down about a dozen chicken nuggets and I think a Whopper Jr. Since the car was empty, that implies then that the car belonged to someone who works at Burger King. Is anyone surprised that a man who would work at Burger King drives around with a pair of fuzzy boobs and underpants hanging in the windshield of his Acura? I don't think so….

Just … just FAIL? I'm gonna call it an inadvertent fail.