<< youth and taxes >>
2002-08-14 - 10:43 a.m.

After a long, tedious morning with my old buddy Turbo Tax, it looks like I'm at least going to break even on this tax nonsense. I should get a little refund, but I think it was effectively swallowed up by Turbo Tax. I only lived in Louisiana for part of the year, which means I'm not eligible for electronic filing, which means I have to print the damn thing out, which costs $50. Plus about $75 in other fees, which means no refund for me on the big fat $8,321 I cleared in gross income last year. Isn't this just incredibly interesting?

I think the whole driver's license thing is pretty much a lost cause. I wouldn't really care except that I don't think I'm going to be able to get into the Bars of America on our Wild Western Adventure, which is maddening. People think I'm sixteen. A nuanced and dignified sixteen, maybe, but definitely sixteen.

Lately I've been giving a lot of thought to why this is true. One of my main theories is the freckles--I think freckles automatically subtract about five years from anyone's face. Or maybe it's that I don't really wear make-up. From time to time I consider the possibility that maybe I should try to buy more grown-up clothes, and stop sitting with my feet tucked up under me all the time. I've been trying for ten years to extract words like "totally," "cool," and "awesome" from my vocabulary. (Not only do I talk like a teenager, I talk like a teenager who just stepped out of 1972. In real life I sometimes even say "rad." I know, it's terrible.) But when I don't have access to those words, I don't really know how to express approval. The British have lots of great affirmatory expressions--"Brilliant!" "Smashing!" "Corking!"--but I don't think I can get away with using those.

From my point of view, the only problem with the way I look and act is that it takes people a little longer to take me seriously. But I think it's a deficit I can overcome, and besides, I don't want to pretend to be 40. Forty-year-olds want to pretend to be twenty-six.

p.s. Line still busy at the Oregon DMV. Either it's the world's busiest DMV office, or else someone who works there spends a lot of time on the phone with her boyfriend.



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