Mistakes were made

New York City meets Munich

October 3rd, 2001 · No Comments · Uncategorized

Taxing Situation

When ever I get mail from any part of the Federal government, you’ll forgive me if I don’t jump up and down for joy. Mostly I have had problems with the I.R.S. since I am a complete idiot with money, and I sometimes make poor choices with my accountants. Or my ex-accountants, I should say. Thanks to some bad tax returns, the Fed wants to squeeze my balls for about $40,000 dollars. Like I have that kind of money under my bed or something. And according to my new accountant, the Fed actually may owe me money.

But my current accountant and the I.R.S. have been wrestling with the matter for almost a year now. The good news is while its under dispute, I don’t have to keep making payments on past taxes. The bad news is, if they don’t agree with my new accountant, I am going to be hugely screwed.

When I saw two yellow envelops from the Department of the Treasury in my mailbox, I wasn’t exactly smiling. I didn’t want to lose control of my bladder right in the mail room, though. I grabbed the envelopes with a trembling hand, and scurried to the elevator.

Crap crap crap.

No use put it off, though. While the elevator whizzed up to the seventh floor, I examined the envelopes closely. They didn’t like like the usual Death, Doom and Destruction letters I get from the tax man. As a matter of fact, they looked like checks.


I peeked through the little window where my address appeared. Yes. It’s a check. And the amount on one check is for $4,000 dollars.

If they are paying me, that means it’s finally settled. Now I have a different reason to pee in my pants. But, I’m still in the elevator, and my neighbor riding with me is already panicked enough that I’m screaming and jumping up and down with delight. Peeing would probably not make anything better for any one.

I rush into the apartment and hug >Conny in half. While she tries to resume normal breathing, I tear open the two envelops, and sure enough, like a big, wet make-up kiss from the Fed are two fat checks for a total of $14,000. They even gave me interest.

My worst financial nightmare is finally over. Now Conny View definition in a new window and I are headed out to >Gomorrah (ok, it’s not really Gomorrah tonight for some technical reason, but it’s pretty much the same thing) to party and celebrate. We were planning on going before this good news, but now we’re really going to go wild.

And best of all, I’ve got the day off tomorrow. Now excuse me, I need to get to work on a great big hangover.

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