Will you come visit me in Cell Block D?

This has nothing to do with my pregnancy, but I thought it was blog worthy nonetheless.

It occurred to me last week that my Driver's License has been expired...since October. Oops. I never bothered to change my address with the DMV...since I lived in San Luis. Four years ago. Double oops. However, that explains why I didn't realize that it needed renewed. I made an appointment at the DMV for this Thursday afternoon. In the meantime, I joked with everyone at work that if I didn't show up some morning, that it was because I was in jail and wanted to know if they would come visit me in Chino. My co-workers seemed supportive and said they would bake me cakes with nail files hidden inside. Andy on the other hand, told me he would leave my pregnant butt in jail. Thanks, love you too sweetie.

So yesterday I check my mail, and there is the following letter from the CHP (click the pic to read):

I didn't think much of it, and just figured that when I signed up for my appointment at the DMV online, it triggered something with the CHP. No biggie. Although I did think it was pretty funny and a bit extreme. I took the letter to work with me so that I could call the case worker on my lunch.

At 8:45, one of my co-workers came to me with a phone message to call Ana...the case worker. It said urgent. I was kinda freaked out now. The CHP called my work. That's pretty hard core. This was serious if they were calling my job. So, I half nervously called the number. "Hi, may I please speak to Anna?" "What?...Jeannett?" "Yea?" "This is Lynette" (another of my co-workers). "Wait, what? Why are you answering this?" "This is my cell phone, why are you calling it?" Then it hit me and I suddenly see Russ and Matt giggling like school girls around the corner. They created fake CHP letterhead, looked up my address and birthday, had it mailed to my house and used poor unsuspecting Lynette's cell number on the letter. Then, they orchestrated the phone call scenario and hid while I called. Talk about elaborate! And half the freaking office was in on it! Jerks. The case number, by the way, 8675309...read it out loud...yea, the stupid 80's song.

I told them that I don't get mad, I don't get even...I get ahead. Fair warning. Be prepared boys, I don't know what or when, but be prepared.