Hello all. At the time of writing this, it is 11:27am on Thursday, April 13, and I still have not done my taxes. It is not that I barely know how to do them (I don’t). It’s not just that I’m lazy (I am though). I’m just…a bad American, I guess. But no worse than our president. I’ll at least release my tax statements, should anyone ever give a shit about the four nickels I made in a fiscal year.
Before I file though – which I will, I swear – I would like to petition to have the following additions included and available for a write-off. Hello, government? Are you listening to me? Please mail a check to me for items 1-10 below.
1. My middle name. It’s humiliating, and a piece of me died each time a substitute teacher couldn’t pronounce my actual name and just read my middle name during roll call instead. If the best you can offer me is a fine sent to my mother for giving me such a horrific middle name, that’s a compromise I can live with. (The answer is no – I will not reveal it. It is my final horcrux. I’ve already said too much.)
2. These fucking millipedes that don’t pay rent but want to live in my apartment with me (note: can I claim them as dependents?)
3. The Trump presidency. Give all of us back the years of our lives that have been stolen because of that hexen beast. Thnx.
4. While I’m at it, I’d really like that big fat paycheck that apparently all protestors are getting?
5. Adam Sandler’s insistence on continuing to create movies has caused me to suffer tremendous physical and emotional distress in 2016, and I’d like to be compensated for that.
6. These 5 pounds of water weight. Take it. Please.
7. Please send $150 for every bad date I’ve ever been on (or as I like to refer to it, “community service.”)
8. The hangover I had on December 17, 2016. I’d like $100 for every time I vomited (that will be $500, please).
9. Sean Spicer looks like a thumb. I don’t need a write-off for this. It just bothers me and I thought you should know.
10. My dad just asked me if I wanted to watch Hot Tub Time Machine. That is a moment of my life I will never recover from.
Actually, you know what? I’m just going to dump some tea in the harbor and see what happens. Good talking with ya, IRS. Take care.