Forms are from hell

I had the worst dream last night. I was in a military camp, ready to begin my training. Fun fun. But then an officer told me that I have to fill up some forms first. Okay, no problem. So I sat down and grabbed a pen. The first form field was "Commanding Officer." Don't ask me why that was the first field. It's a dream, for crying out loud. It doesn't have to make sense.

Anyway, my commanding officer is Colonel Sanders (heh), so I started to write his name down. But wait, there's a problem. Apparently, I can't spell words properly in my dreams. KORONEL? No, that's not right. Erase erase. LOKOREL? That's not right either. LOROKEL? Argh! It was pure torture. I could sense that the spelling was wrong, but I couldn't get it right (in retrospect, there is no K in colonel... and no R either... no wonder I couldn't get it right). I started pounding the table in frustration, but nobody cared.

Whenever I have nightmares about evil monsters chasing me or whatever, I wake up with my heart beating like crazy. And I'm like, "wow, that was intense." For all their nightmarish qualities, nightmares are fun and exciting. I can't say the same thing about form-filling dreams. I woke up this morning exhausted and feeling the urge to stab someone in the neck with a pen.

I hate filling up forms. I feel lost and helpless everytime I see those blank boxes. "Do I really have to fill the whole form up? What do you mean I need to fill up three copies? Haven't you heard of this nifty invention called photocopying machine?"

I suspect that, 90% of the time, they don't even bother to read all the info that you painstakingly wrote down on the form. Instead, they just dump it in some dark filing cabinet somewhere, where it will never be touched again. "For record keeping purposes," they say. It wouldn't have made any difference if I wrote "Martian" under "Nationality." They wouldn't even have noticed.

I think I should just list down all my personal info on a piece of paper--full name, address, phone number, favorite color, etc. Then the next time some idiot asks me to fill up three copies of some stupid form, I can just shove the piece of paper in his face and say, "Here. Why don't you fill them up yourself, bitch?"

As I woke up today, I finally realized what hell is. No, it's not just your garden-variety lake of fire. Hell is a small windowless room where a bureaucrat named Satan keeps handing you forms to fill up and sign... one after another... for eternity.