Last week was that little thing called tax day. Fortunately, my parents have a person who does their taxes, as well as mine. I give him information. I provide him with that form. And then it’s magically completed. My parents offer him top shelf liquor for his service, and all is right in the world.
And then comes the tax return. I’m speaking like I know what this is. For me, tax return means I’m getting some kind of money back from the people who stole it from me in the first place. I tried to look it up on wikipedia, but got distracted by a dubbed version of a one direction song.
Now, I know a whole lot about a few things: hockey, buffy the vampire slayer, jalapeno cheetos, helicopters in the video game army men air attack; but I must concede to the fact that taxation is not included in that well rounded repertoire. Isn’t that what that talking baby on the commercials was for, to educate the uninformed masses? Wait…Actually, I just googled it, and it’s not even about taxes. So, missed opportunity there, e-trade.
Sort-of-moral to the story: pay in vodka if you want things done right.