Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Bye, Bye, Bank Account

It's tax time and I owe Uncle Sam six bucks. Every year I play with the numbers, trying to get what we owe each other down to zero. This time around I almost nailed it. A small part of me wants to send in a check for the amount of 5.99, just to see if Mr. Suit & Tie IRS guy is really on his game. A penny. Would he catch it? And if he did, would he send me that dreadful letter stating how I underpaid and that I still owe Uncle Sam another penny? Hmm, I wonder...

This past month was a bitch, financially speaking. First off, I had to purchase my plane ticket so I can fly to Pennsylvania in April (-425). Secondly, I have a new car that I'm making payments on now, so there's another added expense (-300). Insurance is higher (-100). My Toshiba laptop crapped out on me, so I got a brand new Asus (-550). Rent came due, like always (-425). And now for the real kicker:

Just the other week I was drinking a few gin & tonics, trying to get some writing done, when I ran out of ice cubes. Mind you, I had plenty of ice inside my freezer, but here's the catch: I never defrosted that thing since I've lived here, and each surface area was covered by a 3 inch thick sheet of impenetrable ice. Seriously, it looked like a glacier broke loose from the Arctic shelf and ended up inside my freezer. So I grabbed my metal spatula and went to work. Within five minutes of frenzied sidearm hack-attacks, I destroyed my spatula. Damn!

I decided it was time to upgrade my arms, so I grabbed my butcher knife and a hammer and commenced chipping away at the frozen beast that lay dormant in my freezer. Whack! Whack! Ice chips blasted me in the face and flew throughout my kitchen, I didn't care.. it was progress! A few minutes into my archeological endeavor I realized, somewhere lying beneath all that ice, were the freon lines, those curved aluminum tubes that held a gaseous secret within their hollows. On pure speculation (derived by the buzz of three gin & tonics) I concluded they were probably attached vertically to the backside wall. As it turns out, I was mistaken.

I continued whacking away, stabbing fiercely with my butcher knife, using the hammer against the handle for deeper penetration, when suddenly... HISSSSSS!!! I got blasted in the face by an invisible enemy: I had found the freon lines. Replacement fridge (-225). Awesome.

And that, my friends, concludes this blog. Until next time!

4 comments:

  1. Nice spatula. Maybe you could call that art and sell it on ebay and get the six bucks you owe the IRS.

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  2. When I was a kid in Louisiana we (neighbor kids and I) used to wait for people (neighbors) to leave their house and then jump their fence and 'huff' all the freon out of their air conditioner. It gave new meaning to the term 'Brain Freeze'. Enjoyed the read- Cheers!

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  3. you've done it again dark and mysterious. I love the way you write. you're so funny. you're a good guy you know. and what the hell kinda plane ticket costs 425? amazing. shop around bud.

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