Palindromatic

Every Date This Week Is a Palindrome

See? The day has barely started and already I'm goofing off!

Getting back to normal . . .

Today's Stress Meter

On the way into the office today I was asked to pick up the following:

1. Triple grande soy latte
2. Grande vanilla latte
3. A bag of potato chips
4. Red bull and vodka

I'll let you decide what kind of day it's going to be.

Done

Well, almost done. Still have to get through today. But we will. I'm pretty confident of that now. Besides, we're out of chocolate chip cookies over here so we have to be done.

I've got some details to attend to today - not the least of which is my own return - but we got through most of the rough stuff yesterday.

Thanks for your support. We should be returning to your regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

Or sooner, if something funny happens.

Nobody ever wishes anyone a Happy Tax Day. Except me. I'm pretty happy about it.

WOO HOO!

You're Killing Me!

Do not go boating in this beautiful weather, text me about boating in this beautiful weather, or plaster pictures of you boating in this beautiful weather all over Facebook. That's just seriously cruel. It's bad enough that it's beautiful outside. I have to close the blinds at work so I can't see it or else I'd be tempted to go out there.

I'm only allowed to go outside exactly two times per day. Once at sunrise on the way to work and once at sunset on my way home. Yesterday, however, I managed to escape for a short while. I went to Grinitch (I had to do an errand there and fetch some Grinitch spinach) and I was sorely tempted not to come back. Ever.

With my luck it will be raining on the 16th and I'll be on the boat wishing I was at the office. Oh, the unfairness of it all!

Dude, invite me when I'm not working, okay?

2

The pants algorithm resulted in pale green pants today. You could make an argument today of whether or not there's anyone inside them. But it probably means it's time to do laundry.

3

Superheroes

I was feeling badass ninja today. I got dressed in my tight, black skinny jeans, a black top, and black patent leather peep toe platform pumps that showed off my fire-engine red shellacked toenails. I topped it with a sleek black jacket and black cap, jumped into my black Porche Carrera convertible and roared off to work, radio turned up loud and my stick-straight, long, light brown hair streaming behind me.

Then I did some ninja shit, got all the bad guys, went home and had a Grey Goose martini (shaken) with two olives in an ice cold glass while sitting on the deck of my yacht.

Well, almost.

I only have about four pair of pants that I really like but I go through a daily ritual of looking at all my pants, from left to right as they hang in the closet, before selecting the pair I really want. Today I picked my black skinny jeans - using my secret mathematical algorithm for selecting pants - and a top long enough to cover the fly that won't lie flat when I sit down. The armbands I wear to relieve the pain of tennis elbow poked out beneath the three-quarter length sleeves.

I haven't had a pedicure in six months so sandals were definitely out of the question - not to mention it was probably still a little early in the year for that. I figured if I wore the peep toe shoes I would only have to paint the toes that peeped.

I applied a single layer of red polish to my big toes and their nearest neighbors and then used my blow dryer alternately between my hair and feet. Having burned my forehead the day before, I decided not to curl my hair and running late for work I applied leftover makeup. This technique is based on an assumption that there is probably still makeup in my makeup brushes from the day before - which reminds me I should probably clean my makeup brushes.

With my toes still wet I put on pink rubber flip flops, a Jack Daniels "Field Tester" ball cap to cover my grey roots and my company-logoed jacket , got into my 11 year old convertible and dropped the top before I noticed a big gob of bird shit on the window. Damn! I flip-flopped back into the garage and got a Windex wipe, cleaned up the gob and started again.

I tied up my hair into a loose ponytail, accidentally including the string that holds my bifocals, tuned in NPR, and drove to work in heavy traffic, focusing the floor vents onto my feet to complete the drying process.

When I got to work, I shoved my feet into my pumps and looked at my pale and veiny feet and wondered what the hell I was thinking. Who cares if only four toe nails are painted? - I thought and put my flip flops back on.

I did tax returns for about ten hours, drove home in the rain, and had a glass of wine before I reheated leftovers and went to bed. Some ninja.

I wonder what Batman does on Friday nights.

4

Is it Friday yet?

Not yet.

Is it Friday?

Not yet.

What day is today? Friday?

Not yet.

When will it be Friday?

Four more days.

I can hear it in my head right now!

NEW YORK, ANAHEIM, Calif., LAKE BUENA VISTA, Fla., TOKYO, PARIS and HONG KONG, April 10, 2014: Disney Parks Around the World Celebrate 50th Anniversary of 'it's a small world' with Global Sing-along, April 10 - Travel - MiamiHerald.com



Make it stop!

5!

6

6

One Week To Go

7 days left in the tax season. It’s 7:15 am and I don’t have time for this but I have several thoughts in my head that I want to jot down before I forget them.

• Waking up from NyQuil-infused sleep is rude - it’s not the waking but the return of the symptoms you took the NyQuil to alleviate.

• running to/from April 15 - even as most people would like to avoid April 15th, I run towards it like a marathon runner to the finish line. (The last time I made this comparison was last year - I think - when a bomber tried to blow up the Boston Marathon so it’s not all that good a comparison.) People are still coming in the door with their taxes saying: So sorry it’s late. I hope you can still do my taxes. I don’t think it will be very hard this year. I’ve only gotten divorced, inherited a lot of money, invested in multiple publicly traded partnerships that do business in all fifty states, sold my house in a short sale before renting it out for a short while, and spent some time working in a foreign country, and I can only find about half my documents. But maybe they’re in here (heaving a large box onto the counter). Do you think it will be done by the 15th? Oh, I also sold a small number of shares of a European company that my grandfather gave me when I was six. That won’t be a problem, will it?

• baby wipes with an expiration date - because what could be worse than wiping your ass on an old wipe?

• After making pouty faces in the mirror in an attempt to make it (my face) look contoured and more animated i decided to selfishly spend a few more minutes in front of the mirror before trudging off to work to apply some makeup. I managed to stay within the lines this time carefully avoiding the salved patch of skin I had earlier torched with my curling iron.

• life is funny - my posts that have only a number in them - and nothing else - are receiving higher ratings on my blog than posts with any thoughts in them at all. which means no one is probably reading this. what makes life funny is life itself, its adversities and our clumsy attempts to overcome them. if i were to pursue being funny full time and give up my “real job” I’m afraid there would be nothing funny to write about.

• McDonalds - I’ve been craving McDonalds which only happens when I’m hungover or during tax time which - oddly - are very similar.

• I was asked by an organization to be their Historian, seeing as I’m a "writer" and all. Hugely flattered, I am, but considering that History was my worst subject in school and my own records are more hysterical than historical, I’m wondering if they’ve made a wise choice. A different organization asked me to be their Secretary, once, but I had to quit after I found out how much writing was involved.

Took NyQuil last night. Can you tell?

I am an April Fool.

So, Tim B., still funny?

7 - The thoughts in my head are very funny this morning. I jotted some of them down for later, before I went to work where all funny thoughts will summarily die. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to get back to them and, hopefully, they'll still be funny.

8

9

Nice thing about working here is I get all the free coffee I can drink. Good perk.

10

All At Once

Good gravy! I actually have a moment to myself. A time to relax and just not think - about anything. Paradoxically, I worry that I can't think of anything to think about and so I think again. (What a friend of mine calls my Thinking Problem.)

Here's what I'm thinking about:
Invisibility Cloaks
Taxes
Taxation of Invisibility Cloaks
Starbucks
Crack

Man, you can't believe how good it feels to dump that out of my brain! I keep a notebook handy just so I can dump stuff there - little notes so I don't have to keep that kind of stuff in my head but I never have my notebook with me when I want to recall them so who knows? It's probably like blogging - words floating through the atmosphere with no place to call home.

I digress, but that happens pretty frequently this time of year.

You know what else happens frequently this time of year? I lose total and utter control of the English language. Oh, sure, I'm old so that happens but when I get a bunch of numbers in my head, the words are crowded right out of my skull (haha - autocorrect wrote "soul" which is just as close to the truth) and . . . where was I?

Right after drones become a household item, invisibility cloaks will become a must have. With more ways to spy on each other, products such as the Spy Finder Personal Detection Device are finding their way into the market. What happens when you have a north-going Zax and a south-going Zax who meet face to face and stop in their tracks? Everybody finds away around them, that's what. (We find ways around things, is what I'm saying.)

I'm not sure the description for this particular product should inspire confidence:

It detect wireless and wired cameras by looking through the viewing port and scanning any room.

Grammar aside, I could do that looking through an empty toilet paper roll.

My point is, at some point non detection will be like star-bellied Sneetches. Once we all have stars on our bellies, we'll want them off again and Sylvester McMonkey McBean will be there to clean up.

But I won't need to stand in line for an invisibility cloak because I'm already invisible. Seems like it, anyway, when I'm trying to get help from a retail clerk. Joke's on you, though, because after you all get your invisibility cloaks I'll be the only one that anyone can see.

As for taxes (see list, above), there's always something new and voyeuristicly interesting every tax season. Last year, it was cancelled debt and foreclosures. This year, employer-provided health insurance benefits are reported on W2s and I'm amazed at how much people (or their employers) pay for health insurance. If I added up my auto and home insurance plus my life insurance premiums, it wouldn't come close to what I pay for health insurance.

The other tax-related item that only I would find interesting is how many charitable organizations don't know that if they don't include the proper language on their receipts their donors' contributions are non-deductible. Imagine donating a large sum of money and finding, on audit, that the deduction is not allowable because the receipt doesn't contain the words "no goods or services were provided in exchange" for this donation? If you don't get a receipt with that language on it (for donations in excess of $250 and for which no actual goods or services were provided) prior to filing your return then the donation is nondeductible and I don't care if you gave a million dollars and you're a really nice guy. It's no good.

This is not exactly front page news but a lot of people don't know this. People who really should.

I don't really have anything to say about the taxability of invisibility cloaks but maybe I will later, during the tax season when Invisible Tax becomes the next Obamacare. (Lawmakers will write the law in invisible ink and we'll all have a hell of a time trying to non detect it.)

Starbucks and crack go together. I have further evidence that the soy milk is the source of their crack additive: They sell everything else at retail except the milk. Dairy milk, I get. They only have limited space and they're not in the business to sell milk. You can go next door to the grocery store to get that. They're not in the business of selling sandwiches either but they can fit all their food into one refrigerated case. They're not going to expand their stores for dairy. (Although, they are opening new stores that sell only tea and tea-related products. Why not branch out into boutique milk bars?)

You can buy mugs, coffee makers, and coffee. All the items one might presumably think would allow a person to make coffee at home and avoid ever coming back to Starbucks again. But, no. The only ingredient they don't sell (which doesn't need refrigeration, btw) is the soy milk. Because they want you to come back. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over . .. . .

That's my mind-dump for the day. It's this crowded in my head all the time but I can usually string it out over a couple of days which also gives me time to filter out the irrelevant and the unfunny. No such luck today. I don't know when I'll have another minute so this is what you get.

All at once.