So today, I realized--with the help of my mother--that I will not end up with $69 from the Feds, but indeed I will owe them $69, I decided that I need a plan B in terms of my financial freedom. Then I figured out what it is.
I need to have one of Puffy's babies.
Today on the radio news I heard that Sean--Puffy, P-Diddy, P-Mix-Master-Grand-Flash--Combs is now claiming an illegitimate son. And, he is pulling out off the daddy stops, including child support. He's currently paying $2 million a year in child support to his various babies and baby mommas. One of his children is even getting something stupid like $45,000 a month. I'm not even greedy like Kim Porter: I don't need twin babies, one will suffice.
Then I can go back to school for that PhD.
*M*
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
69
Dollars, that is.
This past weekend I took a trip to my mailbox. Inside there were two letters, both from the IRS.
Here is letter #1:
Dear Miah D.,
After careful review of your 2007 tax returns, we have determined that you are eligible for a stimulus check in the amount of $600. You should receive your check in a few days, however if you do not receive it in the next six to twelve weeks, please call our office. Your government thanks you for your citizenry, and loyalty and we ask you to hang an American flag from your balcony.
(So I ad libbed a little) A tiny smile danced across my face. I need some stimulus in my life and I want to do all I can, as a dutiful citizen of these United States to assist alleviating our current economic troubles--or, as John McCain says--the recession that is in my head.
Here is letter #2: (These came from the same office, mind you)
Dear Miah D.:
After careful review of your 2007 tax returns, we have determined that you still own the IRS $669.50 in federal taxes. These are due. Failure to pay will result in penalties and fees and possible jail time in Guantanamo Bay. We consider failure to pay to be financial terrorism, and is covered in Section 342, Subsection 32A, Codes 55-58 of the IRS guidelines in addition to Section 88, Subsection65, Codes 32-35, pages 954-980 of the Homeland Security Act. Both of these documents can be found on line.
(So I ad libbed a little). The smile left my face.
While math was certainly not my best subject in school, I think I can handle some basic subtraction. If you give me $600, but I owe you $669.50, what will I have left? Add in the cost of a stamp...and I have about $69 to help stimulate the government.
Yay.
This past weekend I took a trip to my mailbox. Inside there were two letters, both from the IRS.
Here is letter #1:
Dear Miah D.,
After careful review of your 2007 tax returns, we have determined that you are eligible for a stimulus check in the amount of $600. You should receive your check in a few days, however if you do not receive it in the next six to twelve weeks, please call our office. Your government thanks you for your citizenry, and loyalty and we ask you to hang an American flag from your balcony.
(So I ad libbed a little) A tiny smile danced across my face. I need some stimulus in my life and I want to do all I can, as a dutiful citizen of these United States to assist alleviating our current economic troubles--or, as John McCain says--the recession that is in my head.
Here is letter #2: (These came from the same office, mind you)
Dear Miah D.:
After careful review of your 2007 tax returns, we have determined that you still own the IRS $669.50 in federal taxes. These are due. Failure to pay will result in penalties and fees and possible jail time in Guantanamo Bay. We consider failure to pay to be financial terrorism, and is covered in Section 342, Subsection 32A, Codes 55-58 of the IRS guidelines in addition to Section 88, Subsection65, Codes 32-35, pages 954-980 of the Homeland Security Act. Both of these documents can be found on line.
(So I ad libbed a little). The smile left my face.
While math was certainly not my best subject in school, I think I can handle some basic subtraction. If you give me $600, but I owe you $669.50, what will I have left? Add in the cost of a stamp...and I have about $69 to help stimulate the government.
Yay.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
The Fun Continues...
So, guess who was just picked for high alert airport explosive security level V screening.
No, not the crazy looking guy with smoke billowing from his bag. Me.
After getting my new ticket from US Airways most sullen ticket attendant, (our interaction went something like this: huff. name? deep sigh. bags? eyeroll, Gate A) I went back through the exact same security process I embarked on at 4:30 this afternoon. Only this time, the security attendant did something different. She looked at my ticket. She looked at me. She looked at my ticket. She looked at me. She looked back at my ticket. She raised her hand. The security boss came over. He looked at my ticket. He looked at me. He looked at my ticket. He looked at me. He said "Follow me ma'am. You've been randomly selected for our explosive screening."
Great. Excuse me. Fucking great.
While I was being asked to take off my shoes (again) and wait in a small holding room, another security agent came up with rubber gloves, a small metal wand, and a small white circular disc. He then proceeded to unpack my purse, my laptop and my carry on bag. He unpacked everything in my purse. Everything. He swiped everything in my purse. Everything. He even swiped the small cylindrical objects that come wrapped in translucent white paper that most women carry in their purses once a month or so. Great. Excuse me. Fucking great.
After determining that my cooter is not being used to house explosives, he waved me on my merry way.
So here I sit, waiting patiently, to come home.
*M*
PS--did I mention that I was the ONLY person in the entire security line? Guess they needed something to do...
No, not the crazy looking guy with smoke billowing from his bag. Me.
After getting my new ticket from US Airways most sullen ticket attendant, (our interaction went something like this: huff. name? deep sigh. bags? eyeroll, Gate A) I went back through the exact same security process I embarked on at 4:30 this afternoon. Only this time, the security attendant did something different. She looked at my ticket. She looked at me. She looked at my ticket. She looked at me. She looked back at my ticket. She raised her hand. The security boss came over. He looked at my ticket. He looked at me. He looked at my ticket. He looked at me. He said "Follow me ma'am. You've been randomly selected for our explosive screening."
Great. Excuse me. Fucking great.
While I was being asked to take off my shoes (again) and wait in a small holding room, another security agent came up with rubber gloves, a small metal wand, and a small white circular disc. He then proceeded to unpack my purse, my laptop and my carry on bag. He unpacked everything in my purse. Everything. He swiped everything in my purse. Everything. He even swiped the small cylindrical objects that come wrapped in translucent white paper that most women carry in their purses once a month or so. Great. Excuse me. Fucking great.
After determining that my cooter is not being used to house explosives, he waved me on my merry way.
So here I sit, waiting patiently, to come home.
*M*
PS--did I mention that I was the ONLY person in the entire security line? Guess they needed something to do...
The Terminal--starring Me, not Tom Hanks
This shit only happens to ME!!!
So I am supposed to be on a flight to Detroit right now. I am supposed to be in the air, flying the friendy skies with NWA. I am supposed to be laid back, watching an in-flight crappy movie.
I am not.
I am currently stuck in the airport, waiting for a midnight flight.
My original flight was supposed to leave at 6:00 pm. I was at the airport at 4:30. After being shuffled to the third overflow lot (Vegas has more air traffic this weekend than Christmas), I prayed to God that I did not miss my flight. He smiled upon me. I got my ticket, was screened by security and settled down at the gate so I could wait comfortably for my flight. I started reading.
The stewardess announced on the overhead that the bathroonm in first classs had overflown (Ewww) and they were in the process of cleaning the mess. (double ewww). After waiting more than an hour, I asked how long the wait would be. Another stewardess said that it would be at least another twenty minutes. I got up and went to the bathroom. On my way back to the gate, I stopped for a hamburger as I was incredibly hungry and didn't want to buy food on the plane. This whole process took 15 minutes.
When I got back to the gate, the first thing I noticed was the noticeable absence of people. The passengers I had been sitting with had disappeared. Then I noticed the plane, pulling backwards from the runway. My stomach did that thing where it lurches, twists and drops.
Holding a lukewarm diet coke and a soggy veggie whopper, I asked a question I already knew the answer to: "Exuse me, did the 1198 flight to Detroit leave?"
The stewardess looked at me and said "What's your name?" I told her. She replied, "I paged you." I didn't believe her.
Unless I have lost the ability to recognize my own name when it is called on a PA system, I do not think she paged me. In fact, I am sure she did not page me. How am I sure? I heard no less than six pages for six other passengers going to Minneapolis, Burbank, and Atlanta. I actually tuned my ears up when I left the gate because I was thinking "If they get the shitter cleaned up,I'm sure they'll page me because I"ve checked in."
So, now I've been bumped onto a US Airways red-eye flight that leaves no less than 4.5 hours from now.
So I am supposed to be on a flight to Detroit right now. I am supposed to be in the air, flying the friendy skies with NWA. I am supposed to be laid back, watching an in-flight crappy movie.
I am not.
I am currently stuck in the airport, waiting for a midnight flight.
My original flight was supposed to leave at 6:00 pm. I was at the airport at 4:30. After being shuffled to the third overflow lot (Vegas has more air traffic this weekend than Christmas), I prayed to God that I did not miss my flight. He smiled upon me. I got my ticket, was screened by security and settled down at the gate so I could wait comfortably for my flight. I started reading.
The stewardess announced on the overhead that the bathroonm in first classs had overflown (Ewww) and they were in the process of cleaning the mess. (double ewww). After waiting more than an hour, I asked how long the wait would be. Another stewardess said that it would be at least another twenty minutes. I got up and went to the bathroom. On my way back to the gate, I stopped for a hamburger as I was incredibly hungry and didn't want to buy food on the plane. This whole process took 15 minutes.
When I got back to the gate, the first thing I noticed was the noticeable absence of people. The passengers I had been sitting with had disappeared. Then I noticed the plane, pulling backwards from the runway. My stomach did that thing where it lurches, twists and drops.
Holding a lukewarm diet coke and a soggy veggie whopper, I asked a question I already knew the answer to: "Exuse me, did the 1198 flight to Detroit leave?"
The stewardess looked at me and said "What's your name?" I told her. She replied, "I paged you." I didn't believe her.
Unless I have lost the ability to recognize my own name when it is called on a PA system, I do not think she paged me. In fact, I am sure she did not page me. How am I sure? I heard no less than six pages for six other passengers going to Minneapolis, Burbank, and Atlanta. I actually tuned my ears up when I left the gate because I was thinking "If they get the shitter cleaned up,I'm sure they'll page me because I"ve checked in."
So, now I've been bumped onto a US Airways red-eye flight that leaves no less than 4.5 hours from now.
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