Saturday, February 22, 2014

Got my Taxes Done Did

These days I pay to have my taxes done.  I know it’s dumb with all the basically free websites you can use but I just pay someone.  I used to do it myself then things got all complicated.  We bought a house, I don’t know how to do that.  I went back to school, I don’t know how to do that.  Paid a bunch for MRI’s and back surgery, I don’t know how to do that either.  Last year I got I letter from the IRS telling me my 2010 return was wrong and I owed a bunch on money.  I though 2010, really, how far behind are these guys?  That was 3 years ago, I still had some hair then.  Anyway I took the letter to H &R Block and they fixed everything no problem and no money owed, so I just figure it’s worth it now.
I don’t trust those freaks working in the makeshift cubicle in Walmart though.  Sure they are technically employed by a reputable company so you’re covered by their super, gold-star protection or whatever they call it, but they creep me out.  Just cause you took a 5 day course after getting let go from the deep fried, gravy tasting plant doesn’t make me confident in your “Tax Professional” title.
I make an appointment at a year round location, with a year round employee.  Sure this guy probably started as the guy at Costco in the fake cubicle, but now he’s put in a few years and seen more than as season’s worth of returns, plus they usually don’t look or smell like a regular at chuck-a-rama.   
Today I enter the building and was greeted immediately by a guy asking if I was Mr. Barney.  I told him indeed I am Mr. Barney and he led me to his desk.
This is when I notice a few things, tattoos and scars to be specific.  I have nothing against either of those things, I have both however mine and his have a difference.
I have scars from the aforementioned surgery, a motorcycle accident and the ones on my heart from evil girls.  His on the other hand were definitely the result of violence.  Not like he was abused by his dad, but more like he and a few friends met some other dudes in a mall parking lot late one night and he got hit in the face with a chainsaw blade. 
My tattoo I got on a table wrapped in plastic wrap in a tattoo parlor.  He got his in 1 of 3 places, a garage, a crack house, or prison.  It looked horrible on the web part between your thumb and the rest of your hand, although the poor quality text did inform me he was in fact a “Bad Boy”.  Same place on the opposite hand he hand 3 dots in a triangle, like on a ferrets ear.  I used to have a ferret so I just figured this meant he had been fixed and de-scented.
Based on appearance a lot of people might be put off, not me though.  I figure this dude is one of those Life Time movie turn your life around guys.  He made some bad choices in the past, but now he’s turned his life around.  And worst case scenario he steals my identity, we track it back to an H&R Block employee and I sue the pants off them and buy an island, the Lakers, and maybe Kate Upton.

I’ll cut to the chase, this dude blazes through it all, sometimes whipping out a calculator to add up info off my papers before telling me he just got another thousand for me.  This dude knows his way around tax returns like Kim Kardashian knows her way around the BET awards. At the end of 30 minutes of an hour long appointment I walk out with the anticipation of a fat return, which I technically already paid them so I shouldn’t be too excited about but still.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

History Teachers are mostly full of shit!!

History teachers are full of shit
I’m not a great writer although I think I am.  When I took the university’s placement test I got a perfect score in English.  It’s hard to figure out how that happened since I didn’t take English my senior year and don’t remember paying any attention my previous years of high school.
Anyway 10 years later I seem to be a decent English student so I obviously enroll in those classes to get them done and build a little mid-life confidence.
Two semesters later I am done with all required English credits earning an A in all classes.  Now the weird part is I learned a lot from my professor, but he also told me this “the toughest graders on writing are oddly your history professors.”
Well guess what, he knew what he was talking about.
In my writing classes I learned that length doesn't mean shit.  Good writing is effective writing.  In my last English class I took the challenge of merging the two last assignments into one.  A five page research paper, and a 5 page first personal narrative.  I was one of the few who pulled off an A.
Well as it turns out history teachers care about length, which is fine I can talk about the details and whatnot for a long time.  These history buffs always have some shit to say about your writing too.  Always giving useless suggestions with dodgy advice.   I've always gotten full credit from history teachers on writing assignments but I see the same shit over and over at the top. “Watch spelling and Grammar”
First of all (unlike this blog) I proofread the shit out of anything I turn in for a grade.  I don’t make mistakes.  Furthermore one of the most basic rules of writing is back up your shit.
If you have an argument, you better have some evidence to back it up right. 
Well why does my paper say “watch spelling and grammar” at the top with nothing highlighted, underlined, or crossed out with a red pen. Back up you fucking statement or don’t make it.  Show me what I did wrong and how you would do it.
This paper had no spelling errors, and no grammatical errors.  Did you even read it?

Oh wait there it is, you have a lot of students, all writing a lot of pages.  You don’t read them all do you.  Well fuck it. Instead of writing the assigned three pages on Raphael's "Madonna of the Meadows" I'm just gonna fill three pages with a detailed, profane version of losing my virginity to your mother.