Tuesday, April 14, 2009

What is this "taxes" thing everyone speaks of?

So apparently today is TAX DAY. Or maybe tomorrow is. All I know is I don't like it. And I've obviously left things to the last minute... and I'm obviously confused and overwhelmed by so many numbers, charts, graphs, and letters and combinations of numbers, charts, graphs, and letters on so many stapled pages. And something that requires me to purchase stamps? No thank you.

PAUSE PLEASE! I just remembered I haven't watered Horace in a week! (Man, Horace is thirsty).

Anyhoo, this tax business is just no fun. Especially for poor, pathetic Hollywood assistants such as myself. Actually, I think for most Hollywood assistants it is fun because they find shady accountants to get them $1000+ refunded, whereas I somehow manage to owe money when I take the honorable route. Go figure.

2ND PAUSE PLEASE! I just ate an Oreo which reminded me that they might be one of my most favorite cookie treats. If I were one of those people who could just eat whatever and never get fat then I would eat 4-6 Oreos a day.

If I were a skilled singer/songwriter I might write a little diddy that more eloquently expressed my poorly-articulated feelings on taxes, but alas, I am not. I am a marginally decent poet however. In high school I was selected to participate in this poetry workshop which culminated in the chance to read a master opus for willing audience members. My poem was a detailed account of all the times I have vomited on airplanes (hmm, I am now having writing deja vu, which means I've written about this before... which means I need to work on memory retention). Sometimes for shits and giggles and because I am a little bit of a loser I will go into my old writings and read all the poems I've written over the years. This often results in hilarity, followed by sadness, then embarrassment, then strangely: inspiration.

Speaking of inspiration, I feel inspired during this lunch hour to actually address this TAXES issue. Translation: I am going to call my Dad and complain, then ask where I am supposed to sign, then contemplate how many stamps a somewhat oversized envelope might require. Maybe then I'll write a poem.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Next time, use turbotax.com. No stamps required. (which is, incidentally, the follow-up to Phil Collins' "No Jacket Required" album)