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D: Final Answer
Everything was going fine with my taxes last night. I entered my lone W-2, and TurboTax was displaying a modest refund. Then I entered a 1099, and watched the refund disappear faster than a Bernie Madoff hedge fund.
I did a little math this morning, and calculated that I need to sell 1,100 SOB Koozies to cover the amount I owe to the IRS.
Seriously, I’m not that worried. I still have a bottle of Jim Beam – and two days for my lottery numbers to hit.
If you follow The Summer of Benny on Twitter or Facebook, I’ll send the following secret phrase if my numbers come in: Giddy up.
Things that make me say WTF?
Sending text messages to an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend after your relationship has run its course.
I don’t think there’s ever been a technology that’s caused more problems in relationships than text messages.
Just ask Chris Brown.
My advice is this: You had your chance. You probably fucked up. So, move on.
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand. Lord, don’t they help themselves. But when the tax man comes to the door. Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale.