Occasionally, we two crazy kids will have us a good old roll in the sack and then… well… we talk British. Or Oirish. We cahn’t tell the defferehnse, really. I think we switch back and forth a little. The funny thing is, I find the accent soooo sexy, so it’d probably do us better to drop into our fake accents before we actually hit the sack.
I felt like I deserved a lettle bet of sax cuunsedering ai’ve behn a lettle bet preoccupied with paying taxes so you lazy lot can live off our contribution to what was once a capitalist society and what grows to be more socialist (and ridiculous) every day. Some days I think it’s hardly worth making money off a blog, because at the end of the day, we only get half of what we make. Still, part of that half that the government gets (I’d say maybe 10%) goes to defending this great nation, and I fully support that. In fact, let’s get all the moochers who just don’t feel like working (I don’t consider the disabled and the elderly to be moochers, obviously, but maybe I need to make myself clear), toss them in a bog, and let the whole half go to raising military salaries and whatnot. Then I wouldn’t complain on tax day.
Alas, that’s not going to happen without a fair tax and a constitutional amendment (way harder in real life than it is in my dreams), so we suck it up and pay for plasma screens for the lazy. Whatevs. It is what it is, because it always is what it is. Have I ever mentioned the passion with which I hate that stupid phrase? I’m sure I have, because every time I hear it, I roll my eyes so furiously that I really think they will disconnect permanently from the optic nerve holding them inside my head, because really I just want to scream, “When is it NOT what it IS, people?” Stupid phrase. Whoever made it up is forever on my list.
At least I got sex out of the whole deal. Before:
Me: It’s bedtime. If you hurry, we can DO IT.
He: [All I really heard was something like a tornado around the house. I think he put away dinner, took the dog out to pee, turned off all the lights, and came upstairs within thirty seconds of my declaration. Men are easy.]
After [we'd been in full-on British mode for several minutes now]:
He: Things seem to be looking up right now…
Me: Of course things ahhh looking up. Ye jest hahd sex.
He was talking about the house sale, prospect of work, and whatnot. But in the back of his mind, I know he meant sex.
As for taxes, I’m still working on 2006. I have finally finished the corporate return for NTM. Had to prepare an extra form, and TurboTax couldn’t file it online just because of this extra form, but it’s ok. I had overpaid with the extension for NTM (that does not make me happy, but I only overpaid by $66), and I already did the personal return about a year ago, so now I just drop the info from NTM into the personal return and be done with 2006. 2007 will be easy. NTM was winding down, blog stuff is easily obtained from Paypal, and holy Spartacus, y’all, I’m pretty sure we are going to get money back considering our moving costs, COBRA payments, and all that we had to pay in 2007. Again, I don’t get all giddy about giving the government an interest-free loan for the amount we will get back, but I’ll be so happy to be done with it for another year that I just don’t give a crap. And 2008 will be so much more simple.
I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Hence the sex.
I hope your tax returns resulted in such fun times too, pippa. Tracey, I said pippa! Please forgive.
One more thing. Those people who write the tax code and the instructions for the tax forms? Crack smokers, every one of them. CAN I get an amen, y’all.