It’s Vegas, Baby!
Thursday after work. The day of the taxening.
The day to sit down with the goddess of numbers who will plug my life into her computer and tell me what my new tax life will look like.
I played it safe last year. Since I had no idea what my lesser half was doing tax wise, my tax goddess took the safe route and gave me half of my potential deductions. There will be no half this year. There will be no questions. There will be no crying at the accountant’s office and wiping my snotty nose on my receipts.
There will just be me doing my best Dean Martin impression (is renting a tux for a tax appointment overkill?). I am planning on bringing a glass of booze and a pack of cigerettes. I’m going to throw around the phrase “baby” a lot. I’m going to figure the shit out of them taxes.
And then, I will pay eleventy-five million bills.