More Red Tape

And the fun just doesn't stop when there's a government bureaucracy involved! This afternoon, I trudged down to the precinct here in SoAsLIC (Southern Astoria/Long Island City, in case you were wondering--my old friend Mr. Shangles and I thought that might well be a snappy real estate designation along the lines of DUMBO and NoHo, and we should all listen to him, because he's getting a Ph. D. in geography) to officially and legally report the theft of my identity. When I called the police station yesterday, I was told to "bring whatever material [I] had plus [my] ID." So I scraped up the fraud affidavits and the statements, slapped them into a folder, and sallied forth. Turns out the only documents they can use are the fraud affidavits, of which I have only one, and it has to be notarized before they can file a report. Oops. I did not know this. Nor did anyone see fit to mention this over the phone. As my dad put it, their MO is, "Sure, bring whatever you have down, and we'll take a look at it, and then we'll tell you we can't use it, so then you can go fix it and come down here again."

And they wonder why these things go unreported. And aside from, oh, getting rid of the roaches in my apartment, or finding gainful employment, or refurbishing my German, I really don't have anything better to do. Did you know that dealing with government bureaucracies can untarp massive wells of ickiness? I'm sitting here typing this in the relative comfort of my apartment and all I can see is a urine-soaked, paint-peeling municipal hallway.

"Being a fucking pussy"? Well, that's one way to put it, certainly.