The riviting and never ending soap that is my odd daily life continues with an all new episode. This week, we find CCD pulling a typical bureaucratic move on LKP when they find to their horror, that the Shahish iron fist world they illusion themselves with does not apply to my business. They can't touch us. They can't rule us. They can't harrass us. They don't even know how to catagorize us. The only thing they can do to us is slap us upside the head with those little clipboards they hide behind, and boy, does that freak them out.


With a slightly befuddled and perturbed tone, they leave a message on my business line: "You might have to be licensed with us. Call us, and we'll talk about your options."


How about no?


Now, the professional side of me will call them, and will explain to them, in my very nice professional Jamie voice "there are no guidelines set forth by any goverment or private entity in the state of Oregon or in the United States that can govern, oversee, (or bully for that matter) my company. And although I find this a shame, because there are no benchmarks that can help form a good quality program, it also means that I don't have to be licensed by you."


In my head, however, it will be a totally different story, in my best screeching immature six year old voice, I'll be sticking out my tongue while pulling on my ears.

"I know the OSR back and forth, I can recite it backwards standing on my head in six feet of quicksand with rabid sloths eating my toes, and guess what? You can touch me, nanny nanny boo boo! What's that? Nope, I'm not liiiiistening. La la la la la la la. I don't have to talk to you and you can't come here an-ny-more! That just chaps your ass, dosen't it? Isn't Karama a bitch? Aw, don't cry. You'll find someone else to terrorize I'm sure. You have a nice day, now!"