If laughter is the best medicine, I can eradicate all manner of ailments heretofore deemed incurable.
I am not putting on airs concerning my comedy-writing talents. Nor am I polishing a stand-up routine that will make Jay Leno fire up one of his vintage autos, drive halfway cross-country, and come knocking on my door. Nope. I hold the remedy for what ails mankind in my palm. Here. Look at this 8.5 by 11 printout with my temporary license to drive. It is the presumed likeness of my face on my renewed driver's license photo.
Seriously. You did not actually think I was going to post the picture, did you? Although I could. And still remain anonymous. Because it looks nothing like me. That's not just me wistfully looking in a mirror labeled Caution: Objects in mirror are prettier than they appear.
My new photo makes the mug shots of Nick Nolte, Phil Spector, and Randy Travis look like Glamor Shots.
Everybody I showed that monstrosity to said the same thing. "It doesn't even look like you!" Unfortunately, they did not zip the lip right there. Oh, no. They had to embellish.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
"Why does your head look so...so...um...BLOATED?"
"That's a mug shot!"
"What's wrong with your eyes?"
Okay. So that's a few quips short of a thousand. I'm saving the rest for tomorrow. In fact, I can stretch this cow out for two or three more days of milking. The thoughts (vocalized) of my mom when she saw the picture left me feeling a bit un-nurtured.
A description does not do it justice. But I'll try. My new driver's license photo makes me look like the accelerated-aging hermaphroditic daughter of George Lopez and Roseanne Barr (from the first season of her series), afflicted with a lazy eye and the mask of pregnancy, sporting a mullet, who swallowed too many balloons of heroin.
Last night, a virused Genius returned home around 8:00, hacking and coughing about losing to both schools at the academic matche after school. We commiserated about his lack of fashionable clothing to wear to tonight's Sweetheart Dance, where his presence was required to return the Sweetheart King's crown that has perched on his closet shelf for 52 weeks. I told him a white shirt with khaki pants would make him look like supermarket groups who bag groceries for tips on the weekend. As he started upstairs, I told him to take a look at my new driver's license picture.
"HAR HAR HAR!" I heard him a floor above and two rooms away. "This is the BEST THING that's happened to me ALL DAY! I'm going to take a picture of it and put it on Facebook!"
"NO! That's not gonna happen! I don't want the kids to see me!"
"It looks NOTHING like you!"
Let the record show that I might possibly have entered the Breathtaking Zone.