I had a sneaking suspicion that I was going to wind up being up way past my bedtime, last night, when I made my list of stuff to do yesterday. So, I made sure to get loads of stuff done so that I could sleep in totally guilt-free today. And that is, precisely, what I did.

In preparation for my sleep-in-late morning I took a much needed shower. After the shower I headed over to the folk’s house and had Big D prepare my taxes. And I owe money to the government. There is something seriously wrong when I owe money on my taxes. Sure, I am constantly claiming that I am rich, and I am in a non-money kind of way, but I am not rich enough to owe money to the IRS at the end of the year. If I hear one more person on the radio or the television talking about how the government is trying to screw them on taxes, I’m going to punch their fear-mongering face. People like me are the ones that pay the taxes. I work three jobs in order to keep me and my sweet lady living comfortably, by poor people’s standards, and I owe money at the end of the year?! I can’t wait to win the lottery so I can buy Pancake Land an island somewhere, start my own country, and there won’t be taxes, marijuana is legalized, and all I have to do all day is eat cookies and lie in a hammock and watch the waves roll in. This is the part where I tell you how much I made last year, collectively, and then I tell you how much money I owe to the IRS, and you gasp. Okay?

Me, myself, made cumulatively at my three jobs about $17,000 last year. After doing my taxes, that means deducting my cost of eating at 50 plus restaurants, the fact that I go to school, and the fact that I got a $400 tax credit for not getting some sort of stimulus check from Uncle Sam last year, I still owed about $950 in Federal and State taxes. What the fuck is wrong with this picture? Now, to be fair, I am slanting the picture in my favor ever so slightly. I have left out the fact that the City Wire hires me as a freelance journalist (independent contractor) thereby leaving me solely responsible for paying the social security and income tax on my checks. It’s not such a bad deal. I knew what I was getting into when I took the job, but the point isn’t about my responsibility for paying my own taxes, the point is that even if money were taken out of each check, I would have still owed money at the end of the year.

I, in an attempt at being an intelligent and responsible person, have been taking a portion of my paychecks and saving it in order to pay said taxes that were not withheld. But, even based on my well-calculated estimate of taxes that would be due, thus providing me with a number, divided by twelve months giving me a number that I need to save, round up to the nearest 10 to cover any unforeseen stuff, I still owe more money than I had saved up. Do you know what we call this situation on Holliday Island? We call it “Bullshit”.

I could fume all day about this, but I’ve fumed more than I wanted to about semi-political shit that doesn’t interest me in the least. Do you know what does interest me? Profanity. Lots of it. Especially coming out of the mouth of a person in England’s Royal family. And that is precisely what I got when Sweetbread and I went to see The King’s Speech. I’m not going to say that it is the best part of the movie, but it was definitely a much needed moment of comic relief. And that is precisely why I am about to share it with you. For comic relief from my rant about the tax man. Oh, in case you hadn’t figured this out, this next bit is not work safe:

As you can tell, I resolved the embed video issues I was having. I won’t bore you with the details, just buy me a cup of coffee sometime.

After we went to see the movie, Sweetbread and I headed back to Holliday Island to take a few photos for his job applications. While we had the camera all set up, and since he got all dressed up, I made the arrangements for him to take his Rogues Gallery photo. So, here is the Sweetbread, future English teacher:

and this Sweetbread in his true form:

So nice.

Well, I’ve rambled on more than I wanted to about shit I didn’t want to ramble on about, so I’m going to go do something else. More soon. ~SC