Vanity of Vanities

Perhaps it’s my permanent aversion to making codes out of misspelled words and replacing sounds with numbers. This is probably the reason I’ve never gotten into texting . . . well, that and the fact that I haven’t yet joined the happy ranks of those who are able to be contacted at any time, in almost every place.

I’ve never seen so many vanity plates as I do here. I don’t understand why that would be, but it seems there are a lot of people here who like to make statements about themselves in eight characters or less to those who have to wait at a stoplight behind them. I'm not even sure why it annoys me so much at this point. It's such a waste. You could buy a lot of stuff for that fee. Get real, that's what I say.

So, what is the draw there? Just in case you are considering a "personalize" plate, please keep these examples in mind. The first few I saw myself just this last week. The others I swiped off the internet. Enjoy.

This one is kinda cute, I have to admit. I imagine her as a sassy old lady, with coral nail polish, lots of lipstick, and a bag the size of Montana, most likely metallic in color. She's probably a statement all in itself . . . is the excess vanity really necessary?

This little beauty is so well crafted that it displays not one, but two identities of the driver: religious belief and occupation. Can you guess? I figured it out because the plate was incased in a plastic cover, you know the kind you can buy at the store, that said "Nurses make everything better."

Ok, you like to run, we get it. Is it really necessary to write it on the back of your car? And "oft"? Really? Who says "oft"? I know there's limited room, but seriously. It sounds like a mixture of slang and Shakespeare. "Forsooth, Hamlet is runnin' oft."

Tell me, did you seriously pay the extra money it takes to actually order this vanity plate? Can it really be called a vanity plate? It should be called a please-don't-read-this-lest-my-stupidity-be-revealed plate. I can almost see her, on her sixteenth birthday, running to the computer to the vanity plate registry in her state, hoping and wishing, with fingers crossed, that her precious and well-thought-out ("Hmm . . . what would be good. Let's see--I hate being cold! OMG, perfect.") linguistic choice was not already taken. So, what does she do in summer?

Whoever chose this one, I think, is from the same school of thought of the girl who hates to be cold and wants to let everyone know about it. Whatcha doin'? Whatcha want? Whatcha? I have no idea. Yeah, no idea.

Please, we know it took you a lot of work and a long time to finish law school, but really, do you need to announce it from your car to complete strangers? Have you ever heard of overcompensating? I don't know, I'm just saying . . . It reminds me of those few teachers I had in college who insisted we call them "Doctor." Really, "Doctor"? Can you diagnose illnesses and prescribe powerful medication? Yeah, I didn't think so.

Seriously? C'mon, isn't it enough that you've got your family drawn as little stick figure decals on the back windshield of your SUV and a couple Honor roll bumper stickers above your tailpipe? Ok, we get it--you have kids. It's a bit overkill, seriously.

On the other had, a good vanity plate siting can sometimes be a nice diversion during a boring drive. It's like a little puzzle to figure out. Then, once you crack the code of whatever the ridiculous message is, you can get a little giggle as you wait for the light to turn green. As traffic moves forward, you try to catch a glimpse of the person who paid the cost of a good meal at the Melting Pot for that idiotic plate. So perhaps, I should be grateful for the vanity of vanities that causes the deep urge for some to use a state-required medium for a platform of self-preservation. After all, a little entertainment goes a long way.

*And, by the way, if you have a vanity plate, and you are reading this . . . don't take offense. I'm sure yours is cool, right? Hm, maybe. =)