Pratik became a citizen last April, so this is the first time he has flexed his Krishna-given right to vote. I have voted before in California (and, in particular, this precinct) so I thought today should be pretty pain-free.
After a short deliberation with the map of where our precinct actually is now (it's been changed several times,) I went to retrieve my ballot. I gave my name, and my friendly senior citizen helper searched for several minutes under the letter "B." After I repeated "no, 'V'" several times, I added the ever-helpful "as in Victor." I glanced down at the book to help him speed things up, only to notice my last name has been misspelled. V-E-R-M-A-N.
As in, rat?
My first name, which has a unique spelling and is often misspelled, was correct. But there was a weird little addition to my name. "Snoke."
I have a middle name, but it is not Snoke. It is nowhere near the word Snoke.
Essentially, the easiest parts of my name were the most fucked up. (After a 30 minute call with UPS about a lost package and this cuckooery with voting, there is no getting around profanity today.)
As a side-note, I should mention that this UPS debacle, among other things, sparked a profanity-laced morning in our house from yours truly, which led Pratik to give me the "don't chew out the senior citizen helper at the polls" lecture. That was probably a good thing. This is similar to the "don't be an angry brown man" lecture I give him before departing for the airport. I digress...
Snoke, as in Snookie, I guess. Which is pretty offensive...I have much better hair than that.
The woman next to my senior citizen helper, with another pamphlet of voter information, could not find me under the address listed in the man's book. She had my old address. So I know that there isn't a Lindsie Snoke Verman running around out there and that I stole his/her vote. No, I just know that someone in my precinct cannot read...
And we haven't even gotten to Pratik yet.
I FINALLY got my ballot and a name/address correction form paper while Pratik wrangled with his information, which they didn't even have on file. Now, you all know that my husband is a special, special man with the mental capacity for rocket science but not, say, filling out paperwork. While I oversaw (read: nagged at him) most of the citizenship paperwork, I really pressed him to do a lot of it himself. So what I mean is, there was room for PhD Error.
After much, much deliberation, to which I turned a blind eye for my own sanity and let him be a big boy, he finally got a ballot. With a pretty pink paper that stipulates if there is another hanging chad situation, his registration will be looked into/verified.
Whatever.
In short, Lindsie Snoke Verman and Mystery Man voted. And, being the proud mama bird I am, I even snapped this photo of his first voting experience. Just like a kid on their first day of school!
And later, when we got in the car, and I had my spit-and-sputtering fit about the pink paper and getting things done right (away from my senior citizen helper) and how he can't do anything without my help, I noticed that my poor man had his sweater on inside out...and for the first time this morning, I cracked a smile.
God help me, I love him!
