The Daily Durvy

On the one hand, I try so hard to be funny, but on the other hand I am so young that I am filing my taxes for the first time ever. Experience is funny and all I have under my belt is 2 and a half years of drinking to excess under the age of 21. Most of it is embarrassing, and almost none of it is funny. Except this picture of me and my ex-boyfriend:

Now that is fucking hilarious.

So the only reason I’m filing my taxes at all is because I have been bombarded with ads about the free federal return I can file in 5 seconds on the Internet. I am taking the quarter off of school to work on being undepressed, and I got so bored that I actually went to the site to check it out. The Prozac is working, people.

My first thought was of apprehension; am I really supposed to supply my social security number on a website? Granted, the site is obviously secure; some pasty guy with a pocket protector and no girlfriend wrote some brillant bit of software to prevent Ocean’s 11-style hacker from seeing my information. But I watch too much TV.

(Meanwhile, the actual programmer who created Turbo Tax’s security system is some tan, beautiful woman with a house in the Hamptons and 3 kids. She’s thinking ‘way to perpeuate the stereotype, asswipe. Now I’m the one hacking you…’)

I pretty sure I was suppose to file my taxes last year; I did work. I worked a lot, actually. I worked as a secretary for some huge company that treated me like shit. My story is like every other person out there working to be underpaid or at least under appreciated. And then I didn’t file taxes.

Ever since I started thinking about taxes, I have an irrational, uncontrollable fear that I’m going to be audited and sent to IRS jail, which is, coincidentally, real jail. Because I didn’t do my taxes last year. The whole $2000 I made.

In any event, I didn’t file my taxes and I didn’t write on my blog for weeks. And all of my really good stories involve me drinking and watching soft-core porn on HBO.

No one’s perfect.