Is it tax time yet?

Generally I don’t get that excited about taxes. I know that Clinton always ends up paying the government a nice chunk of change, and I usually try to avoid getting paid in a way that will be taxed. But this year it was unavoidable. I have a job that provides me with taxable income, and taxable it is.

I am still astonished at how much already comes out of my meager paycheck. Oh yes, please let me fund social welfare programs that I will never get to use. And the reason I won’t get to use them is not because I will never qualify  for them. No it is because they will be depleted of any funding.

You see the government has never learned a basic skill that every adult with a checkbook has to learn. How to balance a budget. I would have to say that for myself, and I assume for most normal people in America, that if you make one amount then once that amount is spent, you have no other money left to spend. Some of us might have a credit card or two that would let us have a little fun, but if we didn’t pay the bills, I can guarantee you those credit cards would be cut off. So how in the world is the government able to get away without balancing a budget and with a blank check to spend as much as they want? Because in my house we have to account for every cent we spend.  So if you subscribe to the idea that the government is supposed to be a role model, then it is time to start maxing out your credit cards and let your bills become delinquent. Before if your debt gets high enough someone will bail you out.

Thank you VCU for allowing me to graduate with an undisclosed amount of student loans. 

Sorry for getting on my soapbox. This is a hot topic for me. But anyways, for the first time in a long time I will be getting money back come tax time. And I will be getting back a decent amount. For a couple of reasons. First of all, I don’t make much so I definitely will not owe. And then I have a huge amount of medical bills so I can deduct all of them. And finally I can deduct the interest from my student loans. Cue the praise the lords. Most of my payments have been all interest so that will be another deduction coming my way. Cha ching.

Now with the amount that I will be getting back, I can think of a dozen fun ways to spend it. A vacation. Shopping. Down payment on a car. The list goes on. But what will I be doing like a sensible little girl? Contributing the max amount to my Roth IRA. Talk about a fun time. I will basically get a check in an amount of money that doesn’t ordinarily touch my hands and turn around and plunk that glorious check into an account I can’t touch until I am 59 and a half. How in the world is that fair? Do you know how many pair of shoes I could buy with that? But instead I will be doing the responsible thing. Thank you Clinton for rubbing off on me.

 

You get paid to fondle me?

Wedding dress shopping is a very intimate experience. I was not adequately prepared for the amount of touching that goes on. There is no such thing as privacy once you step into the dressing room. I really don’t consider myself a prude but I also don’t go looking for opportunities to walk around naked in front of strangers.  Also there was a fair amount of fondling going on. And no one said “Oh I am sorry for fondling your right breast, or for sticking my hand down your dress.” Oh no, the bridal attendants just acted like this was a matter of fact normal part of their day.  Apparently fondling the bride to be is part of the job description.

I had been expecting the experience to be little bit more laid back. I thought that I would have a bridal attendant there to help me if I needed it, but that the whole reason I brought a girlfriend was so that I would have someone to help me zip up.  It was so much fun to pull dresses off the rack. It was one of the few times that I got to buy something that is truly impractical and I was buying it just for the sole purpose of looking pretty. So I pulled every dress that I thought looked gorgeous.  I want my dress to be fun and pretty. I want to wear something I would never normally wear.

Once I have the dresses pulled, I have to begin the infamous strip in front of strangers routine.  At this point they inquire as to whether or not I am already wearing a strapless bra. Now I don’t know about you, but I find strapless bras to be uncomfortable. Mainly because it constantly feels like something is going to slip out and I am going to have a nipplegate scandal. So no I do not walk around Richmond wearing a strapless bra under my t-shirt. The attendant brings you the strapless bra and then helps you put it on. Thanks. Never put on a bra before you know. After the bra is on they put the dress on you. It is much like dressing a doll if I had to guess. They swoosh the dress over your head and then stick their hands down in the dress to re-arrange your body parts so that the dress fits. During this process I turn a particularly gorgeous shade of burnt lobster.  I would rush to get out of the dress room as soon as I was dressed so that I could get away from that loony that I didn’t even take the time to see what I looked like.

When I finally got to escape the dress room torture, I still have the attendant by my side. They assume that I cannot step up on a pedestal that is six inches off the ground without them clutching my arm in a death grip. And heaven forbid if this dress isn’t the one for me. Every possible negative comment I might have about a dress becomes their mission to make me see why this dress is actually really the perfect one for me. Please accept the fact that I do not like this dress. There are 100s of other ones to choose from. Please let me go begin the humiliating process of getting dressed all over again.

In the end I found my perfect dress. Actually I found several perfect dresses. I thought that if I tried on more dresses it would help me narrow down my favorites but it has actually only left me with more favorite dresses. What can I say? I thoroughly enjoy putting on gorgeous dress and playing princess for a day. Although Clint might tell you that I act like a princess every day (not sure if he means that as a compliment).

It is the most wonderful time of the year!

love Christmas so much. Every year I eagerly wait for Halloween so I can start enjoying Christmas in full swing.  I view Halloween as a minor annoyance and the final barrier to my Christmas extravaganza. Now that I too old for trick or treat to be socially acceptable (although honestly I still love the idea of getting dressed up and taking candy from strangers), Halloween is pointless to me. Sure there are costume parties but getting drunk is not nearly as much fun as harassing strangers for candy in the dark while running down the street in full costume. I have already bought my Christmas music and my wrapping paper. I have also started accumulating ingredients to make yummy Holiday dishes. For the next eight weeks I enjoy everything and anything pumpkin flavored. Pumpkin cookies, pumpkin bread, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin ice cream and last but not least pumpkin coffee. Suffice to say, by the end of December I am throwing away anything pumpkin flavored. Apparently there really is too much of a good thing.  Also by the end of December I am on carb overload. I give up meat for most of the month so I can cram in more carbs. Bread, biscuits, pasta, mashed potatoes and stuffing oh my! Last Christmas I only took one bite of Turkey so I could fit in more carb friendly food. Some people might say that is extreme but in my humble opinion the holidays are not the time to focus on eating your fruits and veggies. I have plenty of time to catch up on veggie eating after the New Year. I happen to love this scarf ( perhaps a little bit more then would be normal) Wrapping paper is one of the most fun items to purchase.  I like to create a whole theme with my wrapping. This usually starts with good intentions. I buy several roles of wrapping paper, and ribbon and gift tags. I arrange a little wrapping station for myself and blast the holiday music. This works well for the first twenty or thirty gifts. But after that there is very apparent decline in the quality of wrapping that gets done. It is no longer fun or a novelty by that point. I am just staring at the mountain of gifts that still need to be wrapped. And do not even get me started on the odd shaped gifts. How in the world do you wrap a build a bear box without it looking like a five years old’s creation?  How about hand weights, nerf guns, golf clubs, and footballs. The list goes on and on. Some presents it takes me five minutes just to try and decide how in the world I am going to coat it in wrapping paper. I also dislike taking unnecessary steps so I guessstimate the amount of wrapping paper I will need for each gift without actually measuring it. Most of the time this tactic works, but there are the occasional epic fails. Usually this experience ends with me throwing down my scissors and tape in disgust and pouting until I can convince Clinton to take over gift wrapping duty. Now what causes this mountain of gifts waiting to be wrapped in the first place?? Somebody who has to buy the perfect gift for everybody on her list.  I will hound people for their lists starting in mid-September. I will then start obsessively searching stores and internet deals for just the right item.  I actually really enjoy this part. I am competitive so I like to make sure that I am getting the best deal possible.  I don’t like knowing that I overpaid for something. Even if I just overpaid by few dollars. It is still the principle of the thing. It is a rush when I get a gift at an awesome price. I have fine-tuned my system over the years and now have it down to an art. But the best part of the holiday season is getting to play Christmas music 24/7 and inundate everyone around me with my beautiful renditions of classic Christmas carols. Well actually the best part might be attempting to unwrap the gifts Clint has for me so that I can figure out what he got me. The problem is he is getting wise to my maneuvers and is hiding my gifts in undisclosed locations. I told him he could trust me to be good, but he wasn’t buying it. I am really hoping for Bassett hound with a big red bow tied around its neck sitting under my tree, on Christmas morning….ahem….ahem….

This might be the most epic idea ever.

So I am trying to decide if I am crazy for wanting to drive to Minnesota or a genius. My parents drove to Minnesota and Florida with four kids several times when I was a child. And all I remember is that by the end of that drive it was a miracle there was no blood. Anytime you are forced to be in a car for more than eight hours it is impossible to look on the bright side. And Minnesota is no eight hour drive in case you were wondering. 

So why in the world would I want to drive my three sisters and myself to Minnesota. There is one very simple reason: money. I refuse to give the airlines that much of my money when flying is a miserable experience.  To fly five people to Minnesota is over three thousand dollars before taxes, baggage fees,  parking fees and airport food.  That is no small investment. And for what? So you can be harassed at security, be delayed during boarding and be delayed while waiting for takeoff. Oh and be forced to sit in the middle seat between two people competing for the last spot on Jerry Springer.

So I thought I would a genius and avoid paying the airlines for the privilege of a miserable, delayed filled travel experience and put myself in charge of a miserable, mile-filled car ride.  If you look at it solely from a monetary perspective it makes sense.

Cost to rent a car for 10 days  - $250.00. I do have a car that I could drive but considering that my car is very temperamental, it is probably not a good idea to allow it to possibly strand us on some random highway in Tennessee.  I would also like to point out that even if we flew to Minnesota, we would still have to rent a car once we were there.

Cost to stay in a hotel on the way there -$150.00. This is a necessary cost because I refuse to do all the driving in one day.

Cost to stay in a hotel on the way home - $150.00 Again necessary because only someone with suicidal tendencies would think it was a good idea to drive home in one shot, after having looked at these same people for ten days straight.

Cost to put gas in the car - $550.00. Got to get the car to move. I could have them push it, but a snail probably moves faster. We would have to spend some money on gas even if we just flew because we would still at some point acquire a rental car to fill up.

Cost to feed the animals at the zoo - $250. If their mouths are filled with food, they will hopefully be less inclined to use their wonderful backseat driving directions.

Grand total -$1350.00. So I feel like a genius for keeping two thousand dollars to spend on a Bassett hound and my exotic animal collection. However, there is a part of me that is questioning just how much my sanity is worth. I might save two grand but lose my mental stability in the process.

Don’t get me wrong. Flying with my sisters and Clinton would be stressful I am sure. Trying to get everyone through security and make sure they don’t over pack and arranging seating so everyone can look out the window. But not sure anything compares to sitting a car with three other people for two consecutive days.  I may or may not hate myself and my travel companions; but I am not sure that I want to find out the hard way.

Sure, driving through scenic roads and cute little towns is a great way to spend an hour or two. But after about five hours all you want to do is just get out of the stinking car.  Plus there is the huge possibility that somewhere, on some highway we will get stuck in some ridiculous traffic jam.  And that is a recipe for disaster. I don’t mind being stuffed in car, but that damn car better be moving.

So I think we are going to go for it. If for no other reason than driving as opposed to flying allows me to cram more clothing into my luggage. I also already have extra rope so I can tie someone to the roof if they get on my last nerve. I already have someone in mind for this actually….oh and I can’t forget that I need to make a detour to Coburn, VA and pick up a goat. Don’t ask me where I am going to put the goat at the hotel or while we are in restaurants because I haven’t gotten that far. But at least I know where to go to get the goat.

 

Oh and Clinton is chickening out of the car ride and flying directly to Minnesota. He is doesn’t think he would be allowed to live through the car ride otherwise.  And maybe Clint and I should go ahead and get married before this trip because afterwards he might want to try and get as far away as possible, so I out to trap him before he knows any better.

This is a sneak peak of my glorious driving skills. 

 

I want a Basset Hound for Christmas. That is all I truly want.

I have been steadily trying to convince Clinton the merits of owning a Basset Hound, particularly an overweight, slobbery one. He really isn’t warming up the idea yet, but I still have time. I think he usually just gives in because he is tired of listening to me. I tend to have that effect on people. I also tend to bother other people to amuse myself when I am bored.

For example, we went for a walk the other day and I spent the entire hour long walk poking him with my hair clip when he wasn’t looking. Now the reason this was so amusing was because I would poke him and he would attempt to swat me away, but since I had already retracted my hand he just ended up smacking himself. At one point I was laughing so hard I honestly thought I would just have to sit down on the side of road and make Clint go get the car. He informed me however that he would just leave me there and go home and enjoy the peaceful calm of the house without me. This got my butt in gear because I didn’t want to be left on the side of the road without someone to torture for my amusement.

Another favorite pastime of mine is pulling down Clint’s pants. When he wears something like gym shorts, I like to randomly try to pull his pants down. Now don’t worry, he is wearing underwear so he wouldn’t be completely exposed. And I don’t even pull them down far. Just four or five inches.  Enough to annoy him and make him have to stop what he is doing to pull them back up.  Thankfully for Clint, he doesn’t wear gym shorts very often, but when he does I get my fun in.

I also love bothering Clinton to force him to do his animals imitations. He does an excellent platypus, owl and brontosaurus impersonation .Now he normally only does these impersonations to shut me up or to prevent me from making him endure any other plans I may come up with to amuse myself. A couple of animal imitations usually leaves me satisfied for about fifteen minutes. And those fifteen minutes are very important because they give Clinton a chance to regroup his sanity. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t spend every minute of every day annoying Clinton. But it is great entertainment when I am bored. This is probably why he does not enjoy long trips in the car with me.

But I didn’t come up with these ingenious ideas all by myself. No, you see I learned the art of being annoying when bored from a very dear friend. This friend has done quite a lot of ridiculous things to me over the years.

There was the time we drove to the beach and she spent over an hour stuffing grapes in my ears. In case you were wondering – cold squishy grapes feel very gross when shoved in your ear canal.

There was also the time she was bored and decided to coat my entire face in cheap makeup and give me cornrows.

I can’t leave out the time she decided to stuff our clothes with pillows so that we looked the 300 pound sumo wrestlers.

She also had the brilliant idea to cover me with  tattoos drawn on by gel pens.  My mother scrubbed me with rubbing alcohol so hard I was red for a week.

Whenever we were somewhere that is exceptionally boring like Mass or standing in line at the grocery store, I will find my nose being honked. This causes me to make a noise like a horse which provides her with endless delight. She has continued to honk for nose for like past 12 years. And it continues to provide her with amusement.

So you can see that I came to the idea of harassing Clinton quite naturally. It was what I was always used to.

 

Not my puppy but proof that I love cuddly, furry things. 

 

Those poptarts came in handy.

Well it is a good thing that Clint stocked up on Poptarts and Granola Bars because low and behold we did actually lose power.

All day during the hurricane I was insisting that the weather wasn’t that bad and everyone needed to stop being so babyish. Sure the rain was annoying and the wind made the trees sway ominously. But that didn’t mean the world was ending.  Well we went out for an essential trip to Target around 430 and after a gust of wind literately pushed me backwards I decided maybe this was a little more than just your typical wind and rainstorm. We packed it up and headed home.

At home I tuned on all the TVS so I could thoroughly enjoy the dramatic weather reporting being done by our local newscasters and Clint and I broke out Monopoly. Now our version of Monopoly is a little bit different.  Most people stop playing when they run out of money, but we just go into debt to each other and the bank. This can make for a very long marathon game. We also compete with each other to buy the most property and load it with houses and hotels so that whoever lands on that property is bound to be indebted to the owner. This constant cycle of buying also leaves us with no cash to pay the rent if we land on a taken property so we just start a sentence of servitude to the owner.  We had just started to buy up the property in earnest when our lights went out.

Clint and I spent a good five minutes lighting every candle that we owned and then we enjoyed the novelty of lighting the house by candlelight for a good sixty seconds. We then realized that even though the candlelight kept us from walking into the walls, it did not provide us with enough light to do anything but sit and talk. It was too dark to read or continue playing so we sat on the couch and stared at each other.  This was no longer amusing after five minutes. After an hour I was desperate for any source of amusement.  The TV is a lifesaver. It provides a great distraction when I don’t have anything else to do.  It was too dark for me to even read. So out of sheer boredom Clint and I went to bed at 8 pm.  Because there was only so much we could talk about after an hour or two. Had there been enough light I probably would have been bored enough to actually go through my clothing and organize my kitchen. Or maybe not……

When we woke up the next morning life seemed great. The sun was shining. It wasn’t hot. And then I went to get water from my refrigerator and it took me a minute before I realized that nothing was going to come out. And the reason that nothing was coming out was because we had no electricity. I was doomed to drinking room temperature water from the tap.  The morning only got worse as I came to the realization that I would have to throw all the food away that was in my fridge and freezer. I was upset about losing the food, but I was most upset about losing the ice cream in my freezer. I had so much ice cream and I had to throw it all away. I was devastated.  All that magnificent ice cream gone to waste.

I was also annoyed at the lack of hot water. So I did what any reasonable person with three gym memberships would do. I went to each gym until I found one that had power and hot water and promptly made myself right at home. Can’t beat borrowed internet and hot water.

However when I arrived back home and started make my routine visits to the fridge to find something to eat. I was greeted by a depressingly empty fridge each time. This was starting to depress me. I was also getting annoyed by the lack of air conditioning. I thought about posting a sign in my yard stating that I was looking for a fan boy who looks good shirtless. But I didn’t want to risk making Clint suspicious…..he would definitely believe that I was desperate for some relief from the muggy, humidity that is Richmond, but he might question my insistence on a shirtless barely legal boy.

Needless to say after our power came on I went around turning lights on just for the novelty on of it. I was tempted to turn my air conditioning to artic settings but I didn’t want Clint to have a stroke when he got the power bill.  I learned a lot from my lack of electricity experience, mainly that I can live without a lot of things but I cannot live without hot water, a way to keep food cold and cook it, and a fan or air conditioning.

This picture is from a year ago before I so lovingly totaled Clint's car. Amazing what happens in a year. 

 

Priorities

So yesterday for the first time in my adult life I got to experience an actual earthquake. I had previously experienced little tremors that felt more like a garbage truck rolling by. But this was my first experience with an earthquake that actually caused me to evacuate the building. I would just like to take this opportunity to state that even though I have endured countless pretend evacuations during all my years of schooling, I still had no idea what to do. I was more concerned with finishing my food then hightailing it out the door. I also had to find my cell phone because I had no idea how long I was going to be stuck outside and I had to have entertainment.

However the earthquake lasted just long enough to interrupt my snack time and didn’t result in any real missed work time. So not only did I have to go back into the office but now I had to entertain ridiculous theories about the earthquake offered up but anyone who deemed themselves an authority. For example anyone who thinks that just because they own a computer they are an expert on any given topic. The current topic at hand : the cause of the earthquake.

 

Here are a few of my personal favorite explanations. (Most of these are explanations that people posted on facebook.)

1. God  is good. Thank you for showing us your power.

I don’t know about you but I would rather see God show us his power in a way that is a little less threatening. Maybe a little bit more compassionate. He does not literately have to shake the earth to remind us he is in charge.  Just a thought.

2. The earthquake was caused by an unknown fault line : Obama’s fault.

Pretty self explanatory.  Though I don’t think you can blame the earthquake on just one person in government. In my very humble opinion though, the earthquake’s fault line is a result of every single person who works in the government. Bunch of idiots running around trying to make the other person look bad, and stockpile money and benefits for themselves. Now if I participated in that kind of behavior at my job, I would be fired, but up there in Washington it is just par for the course. So naturally good old easy going mother earth got fed up and was so angry she shook. Makes perfect sense to me.

3. The wasn’t an earthquake. That was the effect of a 14 trillion dollar check bouncing when Washington tried to cash it.

I don’t even know what to say here.  I guess I shouldn’t get grumpy when my bank puts a hold on my measly paycheck for a day.  At least the checks I am cashing are so little that if they bounce the tellers actually laugh.

4. The earthquake is a sign of the rapture.

Now I don’t know about you. But it I were Jesus I would want to announce my arrival a little more dramatically. Like maybe literately splitting the earth in two. And have people fall in the crack screaming for mercy. If you want people to follow you, you have to give them a good show.

 

I also like how just like the threat of a good old snow storm (anything about an inch), people flock to the store to stock up on supplies. Because you know you could totally be stuck in the house for weeks. And it is not like you don’t have a couple of pound of fat to live on. So last night Clint goes to Target to stock up on supplies and comes home with Quaker chocolate chip granola bars and pop tarts. So at least if the world is going to end, he is going to end it on a sugar high. All I know is that I do not want to be stuck anywhere with him for any amount of time if that is what he plans to base his survival diet on. A 31 year old man running around like sugar is the new crack is only cute when you can watch it from behind a plexi-glass secured area.

Proof that Clinton enjoys his sweets.