Friday, February 25, 2011


I'm beginning to believe that this here blog is a complete waste of time.  And there's no point.  I don't have a problem with the no-point part -- I actually like that part -- it's just the waste-of-time and no-point part together.  I think I might be done.  Which is a bummer.  'Cause, like, I just purchased -- yes, paid for, in the land of free internet apps -- Marsedit.

This is most definitely the PMS avenger talking, who, bless-her-heart, is a little pissed that she's worked 50+ hour weeks, with no day off since the middle of January, and can't ski today, and can't even uphill ski today, and prolly won't be able to ski tomorrow (just like last Saturday's ski turned out to be a bust), who also hasn't been to yoga in almost two weeks, and hasn't had a date with Spouse in a month, and gave away her last jar of Nutella, and somehow cannot stuff enough food into her yap to feel satisfied.

That same PMS Avenger wants to take the Yahoos out of school for some sort of play, like snow-shoeing and a movie, but feels that Winder won't be my friend if I do.  But never-the-mind because I gave the Yahoos the option to skip school for play and they said they'd rather go to school.  I suppose that going to school is better than snow-shoeing with the PMS Avenger.

"But Yahoos!  We can fight crime! And eat chocolate til we puke!  And wrestle the bad-guy hormones! And bark at trees for no reason!  And scowl at everything, including the air! It'll be great!"

I don't get why they turned me down.

The PMS Avenger has been on vacation for a while.  But she's back, oh how she is back. Happy frickin' Friday.  Hope you're working as hard as I am!!!!!   did manage a 10-mile Suncrest jaunt and lunch with Tebbie yesterday, so things aren't all bad.  But don't say, "At least you have your health." Cause know what?  PMS ain't healthy.  It just aint.



(Am I done with this blog?  Who knows.  We'll see what happens when the PMS Avenger takes her monthly two-week break.  You know what I just learned in my glass-is-half-assed-full mood?  That I get to have this PMS Avenger around for HALF OF MY LIFE.)


Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Tuesday Tune, vol 72 - Wuv, True Wuv

I made myself a LARGE mix of love songs for this Valentines Day -- love songs that are fabulously far-out and remarkably stimulating.  The name of said playlist is, "Wuv, True Wuv" in honor of that jowly priest from The Princess Bride -- you know, the one who said stuff like "to-gever," and "mahwaige." In the process of this playlist production, I discovered that I am, indeed, a sucker for love songs.


Here's the interesting thing, however.  My flavor of love song has changed over the years. Drastically.  Once upon a time, I became excited and whatnot over things like sultry eyes, pecks of steel, dark hair, and wooing words.  It's true, I was in it for the hunks.  Being in it for the hunks was got me married to Spouse, for he is altogether hunkish.

As the years have progressed, and as I've aged in years and motherly maturation, the yearn and burn for the long 'n lean, and the angled 'n chiseled, has been replaced by attributes like committed and loyal, enduring and patient, and forgiving and supporting.

There's one more character trait that's necessary for keeping it spicy, though.  And it's the most important of them all.  At the top of this list of lusty identifiers is the hallmark of all things attractive: funny.  For funny is hot. It just is.

I've been awed as of late over tunes that make me feel the love that comes from being committed, loyal, enduring, patient, forgiving, supporting, and funny.  So of that LARGE mix of love songs, I present to you the ones that bring on the Wuv, True Wuv, just the way I feel it now.

God Gave Me You - Dave Barnes

Prairie Wedding - Mark Knopfler

When You Say Nothing At All - Alison Krauss

Wedding Day - Alejandro Escovedo

L.O.V. - Fitz & The Tantrums

When U Love Somebody (Album) - Fruit Bats

All Kinds Of Everything - Sinéad O'Connor & Terry Hall

Your Red Dress (Wedding Song at Cemetery) - Alaska In Winter

You're My Best Friend - Queen

Baby, I Love Your Way - Peter Frampton

Baby, Now That I've Found You - Alison Krauss

A Place In The World - Mary Chapin Carpenter

Arms of a Woman - Amos Lee

Unintended - Muse

Talkin' About A Home - Chris Isaak  (this is one of the best and youtube has nil!)

Beauty Of Uncertainty - KT Tunstall

Love And Love Again - Jesca Hoop

Such Great Heights - Iron & Wine

I'm Yours - Jason Mraz

When I Look Up - Jack Johnson

Still... You Turn Me On - Emerson, Lake and Palmer

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - George Michael

Blessed - Elton John

Somebody Loves You - Eels

Miss You In A Heartbeat (Acoustic Version)- Def Leppard

I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

Soul One - Blind Melon

All I Want Is You - U2

Love Song - Dandy Warhols + Mark Knopfler

My Life Is Totally Boring Without You - Cracker

Two Hearts - Chris Isaak

The Story - Brandi Carlile

Last but not least, Wreck My Car - Scott H. Biram 'cause Spouse wrecked my car on the hunnymoon.  Believe it or not, it was pretty dang funny.


Next week's Tuesday Tunes?  Wuv Songs from Verwha.


Monday, February 14, 2011

Let Us Have Cake!

Today is the day of love.  Or as Jessica pointed out, it's the day of love for amateurs.  To the rest of us, however, it's just another Monday.  I have had this Mahwaige (sometimes pronounced Marriage) post brewing for a while now, and was hoping that it would make it's grand entrance on this annual day of love.   But alas, I have no time to go whole-hog over things that have no purpose, like fruity blog posts about Mahwaige.  As an aside, and speaking of love, I truly love this blog for that very reason:  It has no purpose!  Here's to going whole-hog without a purpose!

Anyway, Happy Valentines Day all.  Thanks for all the many years of whole-hog, purposeless sharing and caring.

VD is all about the treats and whatnot, so I figured I'd let you in on a little secret:  My favorite treat is Cake. And my favorite flavor of Cake is one that sports Stick Shifts and Safety Belts.

So Let Us Have Cake!

By the way, this is Our Song. And by "our" I mean Spouse and me. Naturally


Thursday, February 10, 2011

Wait... What... ?

This is February.

February is the month that most taxpayers file their taxes.  For me, February is psychotically rushed and invigoratingly busy.  It's the month where my dreams are occupied by hot 'n steamy demons that resemble tax forms, publications, credits, instructions, and deductions.

Just the other night, in fact, I had a dream that I was helping some scientist tag spiders -- you know to track them much like you'd count sheep herds, habits, and whatnot.  The scientist handed me a pile of bright orange tags and gruffly commanded me to tag the itty-bitty, eight-legged monsters.  I looked down at these tags, and was taken a-back with horror because each of those tags was labeled with a giant 4562.  This 4562 is the form needed to report and calculate depreciation and amortization.

Another night, one a couple of weeks ago, I dreamt that the current Egypt quagmire was all over the complexities of a Traditional to Roth IRA conversion.  "It's too complicated!" One side said, while the other said, "We want it complicated!"

February is obsessively and all-consumingly commoving.  I eat, drink, sleep, parent, exercise, drive, and get busy with taxes on the mind.  I just can't turn it off.

I purchased a pair of running shoes on the internet, and while doing so remembered that the state of Colorado removed their use tax entry from their return this year, so taxpayers must actually file a separate form to pay their use tax.

I read a post from SkiBikeJunkie, one in the which he all hailed Detroit, and I sank into my chair because of the doom and gloom associated with helping people get their dad-gummed Michigan Homestead Tax Credit.  Then I sank even deeper into that chair -- which, mind you, has a permanent indentation of my butt -- because Wisconsin's Homestead Credit is twice as murky.  And three times as doomy and gloomy!

Someone mentioned an early retirement the other day, (Watcher, I believe) and I immediately thought of his social security taxability threshold.  I don't know the guy.  I know nothing of his retirement, and I certainly know nothing of his net worth, yet somehow I'm concerned with the taxable amount of social security he'll end up with at 65.

Any time I hear the number seven, I think of the 1099-R form that reports retirement income, and the distribution code entered in box seven of that 1099-R.  Then I think about a "7" being normal, and a "1" being all about that extra 10% penalty, which then leads me to the W2 statement and box 12.  Where Q is used to report combat pay, and W is for HSA contributions.

I looked at the Christmas card the other day, and it reminded me of how property taxes went down significantly this year, which ultimately led to an escrow refund that paid for said Christmas cards.  Then I thought about Schedule L.  And how it no longer adds the property tax deduction to the standard.

I also know of someone who lost their job and is currently withdrawing unemployment benefits.  So immediately I tell them (without an inquisition of course) that they won't be able to deduct the first $2400 in unemployment income; that congress did away with the $2400 unemployment deduction and all unemployment is taxable again.

A work buddy from my former work-place phoned last Friday with the saddest of news.  His wife had left him, and the big "D" was on the way.   My first thought was not, "How did this happen? What will you do?! " It was,  "Ah crap does that mean you'll need to file married separate for 2010? How will you split your dependents?  How will you split your deductions?" He spilled his guts about particulars, and the only reassurance I could provide was, "Dude.  Alimony is tax deductible."

On more than one occasion, I have gone to bed stewing over a particular problem, only to wake with a start after a few hours. I had finally realized that whats-their-name's Earned Income Credit was different than expected because half of the self-employment tax needed subtracting from the earned income.

And just three days ago, we started the day without any milk. Instead of thinking "I need to go for groceries," I thought about moving to Idaho because they have a grocery credit.  And whence I fetched the milk at the grocer, a sign overhead said, "On Sale Today!  Only 5.96." That's when I said out load to a local stranger that IRS publication 596 explains the Earned Income Credit.  It also provides the necessary worksheets.  Yes, worksheet(s).  In the plural.  Use Worksheet B if you are self employed.

Again, this is February.  It turns me into a starry-eyed creature that either over-thinks stuff, or responds with a "Wait.... What...?"

I like this "Wait... What...?" business.  Have you every tried it?  I swear it gets you out of all sorts of commitments and responsibilities.  When a neighbor says, "Can you carpool?" I can say "Wait... What...?" When asked about laundry, dishes, homework, and my current state of filth, I can simply reply with "Wait... What...?"

I think I'll try this "Wait... What...?" at work tomorrow.  When Charles Go-Fer-Broke asks about his partial residency in Yonkers and New York City, I'll just say, "Wait... What...?"  Then when Yolanda's Yodeling and Escort Enterprise -- which, let's face it, is a nonpassive activity partnership because of Yodeling Yancey -- inquires about her K-1 not jiving or even passing through to Schedule SE, I'll just say, "Wait... What...?

This is February.  It's an entire month, where every nook and cranny of my tiny little mind is preoccupied with all things tax -- from the federal 1040 to Schedule F, and 42 different states.  Every February is this nuts, and the nuttiness waxes exponential each year.  Truthfully -- and just between you and me -- I like this nutiness.  Business is good.  The workload reduces itself to a simmer for March, then boils again for two weeks in April.  When April comes and goes, the business is like a nice luke-warm bath tub.  Relaxing.  Soothing.  Refreshing.  Predictable.  Planable.

This is when "Wait... What...?"  will prolly turn into "Now... What...?"


Tuesday, February 08, 2011

The Butter Beer Night

Yo peoples. Yahoo #1 here. Me and the family just got drunk on 2 different kinds of Butter Beer. Butterscotch and caramel. If you want to know where to get the ingredients and stuff like that you'll have to tell Rabid to post the site because I'm not tellin'. (Or you could google it).


Monday, February 07, 2011

How Much Is This Meeting?

Back when I was a working girl in a real office with people, as opposed to what I am now -- a part-time-working-girl-in-a-windowless-basement office all by myself -- I used to play some fun games. They were games I played with myself mostly, for others would think my games a waste of brain cells.

One of my favorite games was, "How Much Is This Meeting?"  This is the game whereby someone would schedule a meeting.  Then we'd all convene in a fancy fishbowl conference room only to yield to many minutes of mindless chitchat.  Usually -- emphasis on usually for there were times that it wasn't a usually -- the idle repartee was a topic of little interest to me.  These topics inlcude, but are not limited to: golf, weight loss, video gaming, football, alimony, free spiffs, church ball, kid extracurriculars (I had no kids then), computer hardware, and cheap food.  These conversations tend to make my mind sing a whoo-hoo, then wander.

With all of the chatter, there was always some time for me to kill.  So I'd kill this time by figuring the exact dollar amount the company was forking over for this important meeting in the fancy fishbowl.  First, I'd guesstimate the hourly rate of each employee then tack on a percentage for benefits.  Then I'd price the furniture, divide it by something like 300 (weeks used in a lifetime), then multiply by 40 hours (per week), to figure the hourly rate of the furniture.  After the employees and chairs were figured, I'd add on the hourly rate for electricity -- which, mind you, is more if you've got some state-of-the-art projection happening, but then you have to subtract the florescent overheads, 'cause they were usually turned off.  There some fringe expenses as well, like cell phones, pens, papers, coffee, cups, and custodial services.

All of those figures would add up to one specific number.  And that number was, "How Much is This Meeting?"  Great fun, right?  Right!  It was a great way to pass time and/or brush up on some mental math.  Once in a while, like when the entire division of 300 would meet, I'd have to whip out the paper and color coded writing devices to keep track of the figures.

I tried to keep this little game my secret, but there were a few close calls.  Like when someone would look over my shoulder at the doodles, then wonder what on earth I was up to.  Those times were intense!  I'd immediately scramble all of those zeros into flowers and hearts so as to convince that my notes were nothing more than a bored, working-girl's etch-a-sketch. 

So there you go.  That was: "How Much Is This Meeting?"

Question is, why am I telling you this now?  It's simple really.  Last night was the Super Bowl.  And that unnatural disaster that occurred in the middle of the two halfs led me to play a similar game.  'Cept this time it was called: "How Much Is This Half-Time Show?"


Friday, February 04, 2011


This is what the experts refer to as a serious craving.  Is there such a thing as "Craving Expert?"  Perhaps that could be my new title: Expert of Rabid Cravings.




P.S. It's February and I live in a bubble during February.  More on that later.