Thursday, February 29, 2024

In Which We Fill Out Forms

I'll panic if I want to, bitch.  You're not the boss of me.

I did my taxes tonight, always a highlight of the year.  Hot little forms have been showing up in the mail for the last couple of months all claiming to be "important tax information." which I pile up on my desk where they glare balefully at me. I spend all of February doing nothing about them and dreading the day I will actually dive in and wrestle them to the mat. When I finally do turn to, all I have to actually do is check off a bunch of little boxes my tax guy has created.  They are all  questions like "did you invest in bitcoins last year?" And then every year I remember, oh yeah this is no big deal, this is why I pay the tax guy.  EVERY. YEAR.  

As long as I was in a government state of mind, I went ahead and completed my census form.  I had merrily assumed it would just be asking for my address and if I was a white boy.  It did ask that but it also seemed reluctant to take my word for a number of other impertinent queries.

For instance, it asked how many people lived here.  I said just me and then the next question was, pretty much, are you sure?  What about just for a little bit?  Did you look in the closet, did you check under the bed? Dude, I swear I am the only one here.

They also focused a lot on my internet access and tools, to the point where I started to wonder if this was actually a census or a marketing survey. 

They then asked in two different places what my ancestry or ethnic origin is, like they were trying to catch me out on a lie.  When I checked off "white" it wouldn't let me move on until I specified what flavor of white I am.  I claimed I was Finnish because I figured that would screw up their algorithm.  My family comes from England, Germany, Ireland, Scandinavia, pretty much everywhere the natives survive on potatoes and cabbage.  So I suppose I could have just listed "Western Europe," but where's the fun in that?


David Ciachek.  When they finally get around to creating sexbots, this is the blueprint they should work from. 


I don't know who this is, but we do know, almost certainly, he is in either California or Australia because those are eucalyptus leaves he's standing on.

I almost forgot to mention, poor Diane von Austinburg slipped and face-planted on the sidewalk.n  She fractured her arm and has a big ol' black eye.  I am refraining from addressing her as "Slugger."


I just love those dimples right above a man's butt.

I hope some rich old man is paying top dollar for that prime pussy.


  1. Poor Diane. Get well soon.

    I read David Ciachek is a dental student in the Czech Republic. If you need a dentist maybe you should go there to get drilled.

    Picked my taxes yesterday. Wrote checks. Out of the way for another year.

    I was asked about bitcoins as well. Is that still a thing?

    1. The IRS seems to think it is, but I'm sure it's one of those things that by the time the government catches on to it, it's passe.

  2. The US tax system confuses me. Why would anyone who doesn't work any more need to fill in a tax return? Here, tax returns are only for the self-employed.

    Anyhow, men. I'll take all of 'em this week, ta. Jx

    PS I snorted at your suggested nickname for poor bruised Diane. I guess "Rocky" is another one you try and avoid using.

    1. Everything about American taxes is ridiculous. They know how much they are going to demand you pay and if you guess wrong you get in trouble. Poor bruised Diane.

  3. You had to mention taxes. Before I took my anti-anxiety meds. When my landlord asks about the hole in the ceiling, I'll say "Mr. Peenee made me do it!"

    I hope Diane makes a full and speedy recovery. I also hope she decides to quit skateboarding while wearing platform shoes with 9-inch heels.

    Anonymous, too

    1. Oh that Diane, mad, bad, and dangerous to know.

  4. You could do with a live-in maid to do all those pesky domestic duties. The first picture, he's knicker drenching!

    1. I have been negotiating with Carmen for just that role. We weren't going to tell you until we'd finalized all the details. Sorry, not sorry.


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