Licensed to… confuse

For good, bad, or whatever, I live in the land of personalized license plates.  Sure, vanity plates are nothing new.  Heck, I had one when I lived in Florida.  (“WYVRN” ended up gracing an outdoor tiki bar at a gay resort, for those who wondered).  But out here in the O.C., it seems like one cannot swing an overpriced designer purse without hitting a personalized license plate.  And to give credit where credit is due, lots of people have fun and show their creativity between the characters and symbols laid out at their disposal. 

 

Often, I see tributes to loved ones in plates such as “ABC *heart* XYZ”.  Proud parents announce to the world their relations by driving cars marked with plates such as “ROBSMOM”.  Sports enthusiasts proudly cheer on their teams with plates such as “GO DUX”.  Other times, plates carry a more creative message that take a second or two to translate.  Plates such as “LV2BHPY” or “JST2*hand*sm” bring about a smile (or a quick roll of the eyes) from other drivers who figure out the message.  But then, there are the plates that just don’t quite make sense. 

 

In the parking garage next to my Office of Doom, one car, I have determined, boasts that the driver is in a managerial position.  How nice.  How pleasant.  How… unimportant in the grand scheme of things.  But here is the weird part.  The plate bears the characters “MNGRL”.  Seriously, am I the ONLY one in the universe who asks the question, “WHY are you advertising yourself as a man-girl?”  Or could the driver actually be referring to himself/herself as a Mongrel?  Every time I see this car, I have to scratch my head and wonder what the heck this not-particularly-bright vanity-plate-owner was thinking.  I have to wonder – how many other accidental plate disasters are out there? 

 

One man’s snap-decision… everyone else’s amusement.