Hi!
I had a talk with the government recently. IRS: Hi, Jenni! You owe us another $2,000! Could you get it to us by September 5? Have a nice day!Me: Uh. Excuse me?
IRS: We didn’t get your first quarterly estimated payment a year and a half ago. Could you just send that, with interest? Thanks! Nice talking to you again!
Me: I’ve already given you, like, fourteen thousand dollars. Can’t we just call it even?
IRS: You’re going to get so much knitting done in prison. What I’ve learned about my taxes is that if you don’t have a hardcore, dedicated tax accountant, you’re probably better off doing them yourself. I used Turbotax for my 2003 taxes, and they set up my quarterlies for me. They were supposed to debit the first payments, and I guess they didn’t. I remember calling the IRS back then to register my concern, and they told me that if Turbotax said they were going to debit them, then they would. Riiight. I found it hard to understand how I didn’t notice they never took $1900 out of my account, but then I realized that was about a month after the breakup. There just may have been a lot going on at the time. Dear IRS: Here’s your damn money. Please don’t blow it all on missiles. Love, Jenni So, the days since we last spoke, in hopefully somewhat-shortened form, and as far as I recall: Friday I have already detailed elsewhere and discretion prevents me from repeating it here, but was one of those rare, heedless moments that I treasure. Saturday morning, we headed off to Michigan in Stephanie’s Blazer. Her car doesn’t have air conditioning, but it was nice out and we were fine driving with the windows open. That is, until something flew in and got stuck in between my left eye and sunglasses. I screamed and threw them onto the floor. Lying there was a very large, very stunned wasp. I GOT A WASP IN MY EYE. And then I had to step on it before it woke up and killed me. I hate Wisconsin. The funeral was nice, as far as funerals go. I cried when my mom got up to speak, and when they presented the flag to my great-aunt. We stayed near the back until they closed the coffin; I’m not really a fan of that open-coffin thing. I’d rather hold onto the picture in my memory. Afterwards, we went to the not-quite-supperclub on Lake Michigan for pie and coffee with everybody, then Stephanie and I changed into real clothes and went to The Pirate’s Cove. I can’t describe this experience in fewer than 10,000 words, so I won’t even try. But holy shit. It’s a magical place indeed. One of my favorite moments was this: drunk chick in the bathroom: Hi, neighbor!
me: Hey.
dcitb: I mean, I feel like we’re neighbors. We’ve been sitting at tables next to each other all night.
me: Oh right. That’s true.
dcitb: So, my guy friend and I have been arguing all night about whether your tattoos are real or henna. This is also the bar where all the women who enter the bathroom yell, ‘HEY, GIRLS!’ as they head into the stall. I’m totally serious. That’s because everyone knows everyone else there, except for us. Nobody knows us. We’re gonna keep it that way. Later Saturday night, I spent some time on the sidewalk in front of grandma’s house, then my mom caught us at the door and said, ‘You two smell like beer and cigarettes!’ Did I mention I love Wisconsin? Or something. I went to bed in my clothes. My phone got lost in the middle of the night. I had a headache on Sunday. We headed home, this time with my dad in tow. That meant we couldn’t blast music, but he made up for it by telling stories. It was pretty awesome, actually, except for when he got to the part about the kid dying of autoerotic asphyxiation, which is a phrase I never, ever want to emerge from my father’s mouth again. They all very nicely agreed to my excellent plan of stopping at the Oconto County Fair in Gillette, because they had a giant, inflatable, broken-in-half, sinking Titanic. How could I not stop to see that?? Here are photos of the Oconto County Fair. It’s, like, foreshadowing. Round about Monday afternoon, I became phenomenally crabby when I realized my entire week was committed. It was two parties, dinners, iaido, fairgoing, pilates class, a movie, and a wedding. Which is the kind of stuff I like to reserve some days for anyway. Apparently the uptightness derives from prescheduling? Not enough impulsiveness? This deserves examination. So yeah, I’ve been up to that stuff. Also, the work-crabbiness got a lot better when I did some digging on SQL Server performance issues and Micci and I fixed a bug that’s been plaguing us for a couple weeks now. I’m really, really happy about it. The same day, Lou told me I helped him fix a four-year problem at his company. I’m all proud. I’m giving serious considering to going the DBA route. I like writing code, but I really haven’t done much of it in a very long time. I spend 90% of my time writing stored procedures and functions, and I enjoy the hell out of it. Also, do you know how much money DBAs make? Sheeit. Anyway. Last night, I went to the GREAT MINNESOTA GET-TOGETHER with Kaye and Stephanie. I have no idea why I ever used to hate the fair. Did you know they have a funhouse in the midway with Eminem on it? Marshall Mathers, right at the state fair. Not to mention the Magnum P.I. ride. Hot. I think my top three favorites are baby animals, crop art, and the people-watching. Oh, and the hush puppies. And the cock. Which reminds me, in the poultry building, I picked up a chicken catalog from the 4H booth. A CHICKEN CATALOG. Like, to order chickens. I haven’t looked far enough to see if they ship me live chicks or eggs yet. If they do arrive in egg format, I’m sure Chloe can incubate them. She just lays around all day, anyway. Here are my phone-photos from the fair. I also have a ton of regular photos, but I haven’t gotten around to the resizing yet. Hopefully this weekend. Also on my if-I-have-any-time-at-home to-do list this weekend is a new episode of Creamedpeas. Seriously, you will die. OK, I’m going to go try to work out and clean my house before 7pm tonight. I can do it. And, by the way, happy birthday to Stephanie, Escobar, and Micci! Jenni