Well, it’s that time of year again, and once again my OCD-ness is placing me atop the horns of a dilemma: I have gotten my W-2, so should I do my taxes now or wait for the deadline? The dilemma is, if I’m going to get money back I want it now, but if I’m gonna have to write them fuckers a check, I’ll be writing it on April 15th. BUT THERE’S NO WAY TO KNOW OTHER THAN DOING THE TAXES! And before any of you smartasses suggest that I do them and then just don’t send them in yet if it turns out I owe, I’m sorry, have we met? That would require a level of mental organization I simply do not have, and I GAIR-ON-TEE come April I would think to myself “Did I do my taxes?” and then remember doing them and think all was well. And then I’d be in jail, and they don’t let you blog from jail, so where would you bitches be then?
What they should do is put a sticker or something on your W-2 that would let you know whether you were getting money or owing money. Like Publisher’s Clearinghouse used to put “special” stamps and shit on the envelope to make you think your entry would definitely have a better chance than regular people’s. On a related note, I was actually very upset when I discovered that EVERYONE got those “special” stamps. I lost a little faith in Ed McMahon that day.
Besides, if I’m gonna do my taxes I’m gonna need my computer, which was last seen gasping for air under massive piles of crap in Petey’s Room. So I guess I’ll need to tackle THAT before I even ponder the tax question.
On a completely unrelated note, it has once again snowed in Wes’ BYGAWD Virginny (it was supposed to be a lot more than it was, but we got mostly freezing rain instead). Point being, the damn parking lot at Ye Olde Apartment Complex is still slicker than snot. I’m serious, I have been to Alaska and walked on GLACIERS that aren’t as slick as that damn parking lot. It CRACKLES when you walk on it, for the love of Mike! I’m gonna go out some morning and find all the Redneck Hillfolk kilt flat dead on the ice and being eaten by raccoons!
And on another unrelated note, Chuckweasel did not appear to find the drinking list as amusing as the rest of us did, which is probably because Chuckweasel does not find it as funny as I do when he gets hammered on free Jello shots without really meaning to. But he redeemed himself by making me a very tasty 15 bean soup, which then got me to thinking that I can’t even NAME 15 beans and feeling bad about my culinary skills, but then he admitted they come in a bag all together. (To clarify, the soup has 15 KINDS of beans, not 15 total beans, that would be silly and not very much soup). Crisis averted.