Over the weekend I decided that I'd put off doing my taxes long enough. Last year I started doing them myself online and I recalled it being fairly boring and somewhat nit-picky, but not necessarily difficult. So Saturday night I turned off the Miles Davis and Velvet Underground CDs and set to work.
It didn't start so well as I couldn't locate last year's return. I couldn't even remember the password I'd used on the unnamed tax filing conglomerate's website where I did my taxes. Eventually I found last year's return, but I couldn't locate anything else other than the W-2 from my job and the sad document from my bank showing the miniscule amount generated by the interest in my checking account.
About two thirds of the way through I had an actual fit. I was asked to provide information from some strange document I didn't have. If I didn't have it and didn't even know what the hell it was, then how I was supposed to provide the information they needed? The website's "help" feature was strangely silent on this subject. After a long episode of pained ranting and muttered curses, I figured out that what they wanted was the goddamn document from my bank listing my checking interest. Whatever.
To make a long story even longer and sadly duller, I ended up owing money. Almost $100, to be exact. I've never owed money to the government and I've always gotten a return. The returns have gotten steadily smaller over the years, but I've still gotten them. Last year's was around $280 or so. I was hoping to use this year's return toward getting a new digital camera.
At my job, once January 1 comes around, my co-workers always go on and on about their tax return and what they're going to do with the money. But the people who always do this have kids. Single childless people (like me) get the shaft. So I've decided to get married and have a few kids. Naturally it'll be a marriage of misery and suffering. The kids will end up hopelessly maladjusted, even as maladjusted as I am. And a few of you have spent time with me in meat-space, so you have an inkling of just how maladjusted I am.
My requirements for a mate are few. She must be of robust nature. She must be able to fend for herself. She must be able to keep the damn kids away from my stuff. And she must be willing to engage in the occasional bout of vigorous love-making. Mainly I just need a female human of some sort and some kids. Also, I'd like it if she were able to do what the woman in the picture above is doing. Naked.
Photo courtesy of Spam Glam.
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