Tuesday, March 8, 2011


I signed up a few weeks ago for Penny and I to attend a camp for diabetic kids at the end of April. It's a weekend camp, and I thought it might be fun for her.

The paperwork came in yesterday, and among the expected information forms and doctor's orders items is a medical treatment release form... that has to be effing notarized.

Seriously? Seriously. Notarized. Even though I'm going to be there with her the whole time, able to give parental consent to whatever medical treatment may turn out to be necessary.

Oh, and the instructions that came with the forms said something to the effect of, "because we've had trouble getting these back on time, consider them due immediately." And all I could think was, well, no wonder you've had trouble getting them back on time, if you're insisting on notarization.

What. The. Fuck. People?

I haven't had to have anything notarized since I changed my name after I got married.

Where the fuck am I going to find a notary public that doesn't require taking half a day off work to go stand in line? (Which is what I had to do after I got married.)

Argh. If I hadn't already paid for this, I might wonder if it was going to be worth the hassle.

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