I’ve been wanting to write this post since the other day when I flunked my New York State driving test for the second time. Don’t laugh this is not a funny situation. The second time around, I actually didn’t cry. The first time? I cried like a baby for hours. I walked all the way to Central Park in the rain crying but nobody could tell the difference between my tears and the rain. I cried because I can drive and I knew I mucked up epically. I mucked up within 30 seconds of getting behind the wheel after the inspector asked me to parallel park between what I thought was two tightly sandwiched cars (this is the first time I’m talking about). Do you need to hear the rest or do you just want to talk about piercing the corporate veil to get Ruth’s jewelry and other marital res? Well, gimme a second. I’m almost done here… Make a long story short, well… first of all, I should say, I was very nervous my first time. My heart was in my throat like it has never been. My hands were shaking violently. I was a mess, on the verge of a seizure, practically, and that man had no business asking me to parallel park in the condition he saw that I was in. Okay? So, in the end, well, we are not going to discuss the very end, and where the car ended up. Suffice to say it was an epic failure and I knew it. And I cried for hours and was depressed for days.
Fast forward to my second time. Ok. This time, the second time, I had my game on. No, you have to believe me. I was on. fire. from. downtown. You hear me? I knew what I was doing. I was ready. I was prepared. And lemme tell you something: I manhandled that vehicle like butter melting on a hot tin roof. (http://www.divorcesaloon.com/liz-taylor-on-how-to-divorce-with-style) You hear me? It was sweet. I was even humming my favorite tune as we cruised down the street. And, when I was done, I turned to that person (the Inspector) with the widely-spaced brown teeth for the good news and do you know what this person says to me? This person goes: “I can’t give it to you.” And I sat there for a few pregnant moments wondering what this person was talking about. Give what to me? All I wanted was my driver’s license which I had earned! What did this person mean by “give it to me?” I wasn’t asking for special favors? I drove that car like BUTTER and I earned my license and that’s all I wanted. I mean, huh?
The person began to explain itself. And all of a sudden it was as if I was in a movie and I was, like, this character in the movie, and it was like this person was talking in slow motion, you know? But I could not hear or understand a word this person was saying as this person printed out a receipt from a black aparatus this person was carrying and handed it to me with all these 10 point lies of all these atrocities I had committed on my buttery drive. I found myself smiling, frozen in shock (paralyzing shock!) as this person continued to pontificate in the most perjurious manner about one of the most important and successful five minute intervals in my life to date. But I was not hearing this individual. Because it was all lies! I did no such thing….and the blind spot? What blind spot? What blind spot? WHAT BLIND SPOT???? I did turn to look at my blind spot. You lie! And I sat there and I was just staring at this person’s widely-spaced brown teeth and it occurred to me, right then, that when I got out of that vehicle and to my laptop, I simply had to do a post about Ruth Madoff and her marital baubles, and corporate law, and whether the SEC and the FBI would pierce the corporate veil in order to divest Ruth of what was rightfully hers per her marriage contract with her husband Bernard Madoff.
And, so here I am. Happy as a clam! And I’m okay. I’m good with it. It’s all good. Samantha on Sex and the City couldn’t drive and she is older than me, so what do I care if people laugh and point fingers like I’m some kind of freak just because I can’t get a New York City drivers license after two tries? It’s a racket, anyways and everybody knows it. It’s got to be a racket, or that Inspector was not in the car I was driving. And you know what? I don’t care. I. DO. NOT. CARE. You hear me? I don’t.
So. Ruth. And her Jewelry and the SEC and the veil. …btw, I mean it this time…. I. am. not.taking.the.new.york.city.driving.test.again.ever. And I don’t care if my frenemies think I’m a loser for not being able to pass the test while they all drive around in their mini coopers. Cause, as I stated previously, Samantha on Sex and the City didn’t know how to drive either. And, I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.
As for Ruth and her Jewelry and the SEC piercing the veil to take it all away from her? God, the poor woman is in so much trouble. I wonder if she knows how to drive? Cause at this rate, she’s not going to have a chauffeur no more. She’s gonna have to learn to either hail a cab or drive herself around. Poor Ruth. No jewelry and having to face a NYC driving inspector too? This is cruel and unusual. My advice? Ruth, you better steer clear of the one with the widely spaced, big, flared brown teeth. Cause, girrrl, she’s gonna flunk you – even if you drive like butter….better yet, maybe you better start buttering up those SEC cowboys. That might be your best bet for hanging on to some of that loot. No, I’m very serious. Cause your veil? Your veil? It’s gonna get pierced girl. I’m very serious.Sign Up! Get Free Giveaways, New Ideas & Latest News Valid email for entry Thanks 🙂