Thursday, January 27, 2011

Death (of my self-esteem) and Taxes


You know how when you finally go visit your family that you haven't seen in a year or so, you have to do the whole, "No, I'm not dating anyone. No, I haven't purchased a house or gotten a cool job or given money to charity or been otherwise awesome." You know what I'm talking about? You know how you have to force yourself to stand up a little taller than you'd like and pretend that you're proud of yourself anyway? Even if they don't get you and your happy, singleton lifestyle? Even if they think that makes you a lesbian? Maybe you don't get that. Maybe you follow societal norms and do regular things like date, marry, procreate and find stable places to live--if that's you, then you might not get this. And you can go read www.igotmyshittogether.com. Turns out, that site hasn't been taken yet. Dibs!

Well, anyway, friends, doing your taxes gives you that feeling, too. I recently got a paper W-2 from one job in the mail and I knew that I could access one from my other job online. So I poured a tall glass of water, put on my flannel pants and created a comfy spot on the couch with my laptop and all of my paperwork. First up, accessing that pesky W-2 online. I learned that God, himself, would need to find a notary to access his W-2 online. They ask questions like, "are you sure you're you?" And I'm clicking "yes" and thinking this is good enough. And they're all, "I only kind of believe you. I'm going to show you a list of questions and then you pick a question and give me the answer to it and then later I'll quiz you on it just to see if it's really you. K?" And I'm like, "Is that really necessary?" And they're all, "On your knees, bitz!" So I go ahead and fill out the six questions that they make me answer because, well, they've got me by the balls here.

The game goes like this, I choose a question from the drop-down box, answer it and then pick another question and repeat this process five more times. Each drop-down box has the same twelve questions to choose from and it becomes obvious, very quickly that there's a certain kind of person who tries to access their tax paperwork in a timely manner. The following are actual questions that I was unable to answer to access my W-2 online:
  • Where did you meet your spouse for the first time?
  • In what city were you married?
  • What is the name of the maid of honor at your wedding?
  • What is the first name of the best man at your wedding?
  • What was the name of your first boyfriend or girlfriend?
  • In what city is your vacation home?
Like it's not bad enough knowing that, later I'll have to check the "Single, unmarried, unexciting and otherwise generally boring and lonely according to societal mores" box on my actual tax form. I have to be reminded of how completely uninvolved and yet, highly complex my romantic life has been up until this point. In addition, now I'm evaluating my platonic friendships, wondering who I might use as a maid of honor in a wedding if I had one. And, oh dear God, where will I put my vacation home? Should I buy or build? It feels like it should be in Cape Cod, right? I think that sounds about right. Now I'm checking airline prices for weekend trips to Cape Cod just to check out my vacation home options.

The only questions that I could answer were the ones that I still don't have an answer to but I could make one up more easily.
  • What was the name of the last town in which your paternal grandmother lived?
  • What was your favorite restaurant in college?
  • What's the name of your oldest nephew?
Thanks! Thanks for reminding me that my grandma should have died by now and I should probably write to her because, after all, I know most of her address off the top of my head and every day is a gift, right? Guilt trippin' bitches. Who ate at restaurants in college? Was I the only one on a budget only marginally tighter than the one I'm on now as a grown up? And are we talking biological or step-nephews? Because I have a couple of each of those. Life is complicated, alright!?

But I pushed through. I powered through and I got into the section where I'm actually filing these puppies. Thanks, H&R Block for providing free Fed Filing on the internets! Well, I put in the information for one of my W-2's, but I sort of forgot about the other one that I didn't work so damn hard for. So The Government was all, "You poor girl, you made, like, no money this year! I'ma give you a bazillion dollars in your refund so you can buy a car, one day." And I was like, "Sweet!! I love taxes!! Wait, I forgot this other one, let me give you that information, too." And then Government said, "Uh... *tongue click* yeah. That actually changes things, I'm going to only give you, like, 1/6th of a bazillion dollars. Also, would you like to donate $3 to the presidential campaign?" "Would I like to? What? Are you--are you for real, Government? No I would not like to do that. But thank you for the 6th of a bazillion dollars and thanks for not making me pay you any money. I do appreciate it but I still feel like you can go fuck yourself. Also, I have made a choice to be single, alright?! It's not like I couldn't have made it happen if I wanted it to." And even though that last part is only mostly true, I still closed my browser with confidence. So, there.

And now, as a personal reward, I'm going to a matinée. By myself.

Also, since people really seem to go for posts with pictures, I leave you with a photograph of a hedgehog with a broken arm. Awe.

2 comments:

Olivia Arlene said...

I laughed so hard I cried!!!

Hilah said...

I love you, and I hate you for already having done your taxes.

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