I Was Expecting A Good Ass-Fucking...

...when I did my taxes last night. Turned out it wasn't an all-nighter. And the lube was scented. And fruit was involved. I made a decision to up my last estimated tax payment by three hundred buckaroos. It payed off.

For those of us that are mathematically challenged, doing taxes is nothing short of wishing someone would stick a needle in your eardrum. For the years I was married they were done by the banks CFO. Yeah, that was sweet. After that, I had to do my own. Trying to figure out the tables and such forced me to make it a 24 beer experience rather than the 12 I had originally planned on. By the time I was plastered finished I had no idea if it was correct, but I sent it out anyways. Never had any problems to the negative, and actually one year had the IRS amend it and add some change to my coffers. Sometimes alcohol makes us stupid, sometimes not. I play the odds.

Best thing that ever happened for those of us that can't tell what the difference is between a quart and a gallon, is TurboTax. I had mine done in less than 15 minutes. Both federal and state. Knew what few docs I needed, since I only have a W-2, estimated taxes and my whopping interest of $18.06 from my bank. Plug in the numbers, click a few buttons and send it off to the printer at work over the VPN and it was waiting for me this morning. Kinda like looking up a recipe for beef stroganoff and finding it on the stove when you walk in the kitchen. I've been using it for about 5 or 6 years, since the price came down. I don't have any deductions other than the standard ones, but it keeps me from trying to add numbers that are over 100.

So I'm hoping they come out with a version of the BOOK Gray's Anatomy(yep, it's a book, written in 1918) that will tell me how to rip out my prostate and hemorrhoids at the same time. Not sure what I'll use as anesthesia, but it surely will be a good vintage of Crown Royal. Beer or wine just wouldn't meet the muster for this scenario.