I am an illegal alien

Getting divorced in San Antonio is a pain, being born overseas is a bigger one. I get a call from the CIS office that they need a passport because the birth certificate I have, which is a form blah blah blah is not sufficient. She goes on to tell me if it was a form blah blah blee, it would be. Apparently the forms are identical except for the alpha numeric markers. More information than I ever wanted, but she seemed genuinely interested so I decided to act like I was too.

We have had some conversation about possibly changing countries and, if we decide to go that route, it is convenient that our application form is parked on Maria's desk until we can determine if I am, in fact, a US citizen as opposed to a Japanese one.