Declare the pennies on your eyes

Achoo! I'm allergic to TAX SEASON. I've been fortunate in years past to either 1) not make nearly enough money to file (oh wait this happened only once... my unemployed college year) or 2) have my accountant (b.k.a. "Mom") file for me. (Shut up, I'm not spoiled - she's just damn good at taxes and she offered, ok?) If I ever filed myself, it was the EZ form and I blocked it out, so I have no real idea how to do my own taxes. This year I attended a free tax "seminar" (a-hem, at my mom's house) to help me wade through all the part-year resident, foreign-earned income, fed, state, county, and city forms. BAAAAH! Guess how long it took to finish-- neigh finish MOST-- of my forms? Go on, guess! FIVE FREAKIN' HOURS. But we took a 20-minute pizza break. Oh but that didn't include the time spent driving to the post office to mail them.

So what did I learn from the experience of filing my 2005 taxes?
1) Save all my medical and dental receipts. Tylenol cold. Nasal spray. Everything.
2) Try to earn most of my income (but not too much) in a foreign country where the tax rate is lower.
3) "Tax-deductible"-something doesn't necessarily mean I am going to save a single penny from it.
4) Even the IRS makes typos.
5) I want an accountant. Add to Bourgeois Fantasy list.

Night of 1,000 Backslaps

I feel compelled to write something about last night's Oscars (a.k.a the George Clooney Show), but how am I to compete with the likes of podcasts and Live! Oscar blogs and Salon's Cintra Wilson? This event has already been journalisized to death (and I'm embarrassed to admit that I've read most of it. As if six+ hours of telecast wasn't enough.) For the record, I'll say that Jon Stewart did a fine job and I'm perplexed by the negative backlash. What more could people have expected from the poor dude? This ain't the MTV Movie Awards; he couldn't very well let down his Jew-y hair completely.

Some of the night's biggest mysteries remain to be solved: Why did Tom Hanks come onstage all furrowed and cursing like a sailor? What exactly was going on behind the singer of the Crash theme song? Whatever that elemental slow-mo shit was, it was worse than the infamous Oscars 98 Debbie Allen choreotragedy. Was Reese really wearing one of Diaper-Faced Dunst's sloppy seconds from 2003? And if so, why didn't her stylist freakin' know that? What do stylists do all day if not update their sartorial spreadsheets?

Now that it's over, we can sit back and enjoy the flood of nominees releasing on DVD. Update your queues, people.

UPDATE: A source at Defamer claims that the "Forrest Gump Theme" is behind Tommy's tirade. Touche.

My Heart is Full of Mucous

Dudes, I watched SO MUCH television this past week. Omigod. It's mostly my own fault. I had been whining to Uutey for weeks that I never get to use my sick days and blah blah blah I'm never sick and wouldn't it be great just to have a cold and spend a whole workday on the couch? Well I didn't think the Goblin King would actually hear and grant my wish, but he did and he inflicted me with this Welcome to the Pacific Northwest Inititation Flu/Cold. It used not ONE sick day, but FIVE of them! And it devoured my WHOLE weekend to boot! Yippee! That added up to lots of Food Network, MTV and my overdue discovery of Video on Demand. DUDES... there are like a hundred free movies just sitting there waiting to be watched any time! I VODed Lucas, The Fifth Element and Notorious all in one day. No due dates, no late fees, NO COMMERCIALS. Cowabunga. That's what's right with America.

Here's what's wrong: MTV 1) My Super Sweet Sixteen. I got caught in a mid-afternoon marathon of this unbeliiiieeeeevable display of yucky icky disgusting spoiled teenaged pricesses (and one flaming prince) lashing out at their insanely accommodating parents over the details of their $150,000+ 16th birthday parties. Jee-zus, I think my 16th birthday party was greasy fries at Angelo's and maybe a 40 oz. Apparently there are rich brats all over this nation (well, at least in FL, CA and NY) who make Paris Hilton look like a sweetie pie. 2) Date My Mom. I cannot believe this show is socially acceptable.

And as for you Travis Stork, a.k.a The Biatchelor, you totally dissed my girl Moana at that last rose ceremony. Have a nice plastic life with your safe choice, Miss All-American Kindergarten Teacher. Maybe you'll get to first base by your wedding night, if you even care to. ABC, give up on this craptastic excuse for a "romantic" show. The finale gave me nightmares!!