taxes

So yesterday was tax day and I had to call around at 10 at night the night before to get advice on how to file an extension. This year, my husband wants us to try doing taxes ourselves instead of paying up the wazoo for the pricey fees of our overpriced accountant — well, my overpriced accountant. I brought him into the marriage and have been working with him for years. I never minded the high price because he always got me a mammoth return, but best of all, I DIDN’T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT TAXES.

But the truth is, accountant or no, I seem to think about taxes ALL YEAR, because it takes me that long to get my act together. (My friend nk laughs whenever I tell her I’m at home doing my taxes. Like what am I doing? Why does it take me so long?) It’s partially because I do them in front of the TV and get caught up in “Samantha Who” or whatever, and it’s also b/c I write down every single item under the sun that I ever spend money on in hopes that it might be tax-deductible. But isn’t that goofy? I mean is sunblock from CVS bought in April 2007 tax deductible? Probably not, but am not taking any chances. I have this elaborate system where I save all my receipts, order them by dates, stuff them in envelopes by subject, then write down each cost in each category on a notepad in pencil, then take out the calculator to tally the damage.

My system must be wrong. This is how I know. When I do my taxes at Starbucks, people come up to me horrified and say “you should hire an accountant.” And when I say “I do have an accountant!” they just back away slowly. But I never wanted to do my taxes myself! It’s like a part of my the world I just don’t want to devote any mental real estate to, like it’s up there with like learning how to golf.

But if Husband wants to try something, I’m there. As Tax Day crept towards us and it became clear we would be late — again, we readjusted our goal for the 15th to file an extension…then the night before, he ran out of time and had to go to work. It was up to me.

Under much pressure, after much hemming and hawing, after calling my friend Alex L. for moral support, I finally settled down and looked up instructions and did it in two seconds. Phew. It sounds stupid, but it’s like years of phobia overcome. I feel like a stud. I’m walking with a swagger down the office halls, saying “oh yeah, we bad, we bad” like richard pryor in “stir crazy.”

have you seen this already?

Have you seen Ike visits Bobby Lee\'s family? This clip is kinda older and from Mad TV, which is very hit and miss. But it’s about a cast member visiting Bobby Lee’s family, to whom I kinda-sorta-not really related to. (My cousin Aimee married Tom Bobby Lee’s cousin, but they don’t really talk any more, so does that count? My friend Alex L. was working on a commerical that cast Bobby Lee and freaked him out by trotting out the names of “Tom” and “Sue” [Sue is Tom’s sister] and witnessed his mind melt from the result of worlds colliding.)

In any case, I love this video. Bobby Lee is such a freak, like he’s always just in his underwear for every sketch on MAd TV, and I think they even staged an intervention. This clip is totally ridiculous AND it features Bobby Lee’s parents, and it is my dream to write a script and act in it with my parents. I really think it would give me immense pleasure to see them woodenly, but adorably, deliver lines. But the two oldies won’t even consent to being photographed so I’m not sure if I can get to agree to be in a play or short film. Hmmm. Maybe if my husband was in it too…

on aging

So my friend Jen asks, “Aging — fun or not?” We’re not sure yet, but it’s happening anyway. All of a sudden, I’m really noticing colossal amounts of silver in my hair, which I’m just going to call nature’s highlights. But today, at the Gap, I was looking at the skirts when I noticed that they were playing a New Order song — AT THE GAP, people. That means, they’re targeting my age group. That’s like I’m a BABY BOOMER marketing people are busy profiling. * sad *

celebrity sighting

Aw, yeah, I saw Madeline Albright yesterday on the Acela back to NYC. She is tiny in person — tiny head, no hair, spreading out on her chair like a proper homeless woman, newspapers and coffee cups everywhere. I love her! My husband said she doesn’t really count as a celeb, “well, maybe a dc celeb.” Whatever, man, I’ll take what I can get. She’s someone on earth who has no idea who I am, but I know lots about her! I can go up to her and say, “Madeline, you are so right about Condi Rice. What happened there?” Plus, I stayed at the hotel where Reagan got shot. Gee, why isn’t that promoted in their brochures?

washington, dc

Yesterday, I flew a kite for the first time. Greg and Sung-Ji and Harry (their dog who does not think he is a dog) picked me up from Union Station and offered it as our day time diversion, and off we went to Washington Mall. They handed me an easy kite to work with–one they called the black sperm, which I could not bring myself to say, even in its most dire moments of need. (I yelled “go black thingie” when it needed encouragement.) But I really did get it to fly! Finding the wind reminded me of fishing, but in the sky, and once it was up there, it reminded me of walking a dog, which is why I maybe decided to take Harry for a walk, except I let Harry walk me.

I just followed whereever his sense of smell took him and let him be the boss of the leash, which is how we ended up at the three-foot fence. I couldn’t talk him out of jumping, b/c I was still in co-captain mode, plus like I really don’t mingle with dogs much so I wasn’t sure what to tell him. That’s when he jumped like a little superhero and totally like yelped and began to limp. How bad did I feel! Did I mention dog is 14? I felt like a bad Dog Auntie and let Harry dog down, so I ran back to the blanket and told Sung Ji, and switched back to kites. Yikes. Greg apparently is so into kite-flying that they buy one every time they vacation, the consequence of which is Sung Ji sat with like ten kites and was asked by two Indian families if she was selling them. Nice.

chita rivera

So I’ve been working out with a trainer for about six months now. I can do maybe seven real push-ups and all sorts of weight lifting tricks that were not possible. And every time we reach a new milestone, my trainer gets psyched and asks with a big smile, “how do you feel!” And I’m always like “a senior citizen!”

But I tell you what, I think I’m graduating to athletic senior citizen. Like maybe now, I have Chita Rivera’s body at age 85 — whenever I see her tight, black dancer’s clothes, you can see great gams and a pouchy stomach and other mystery sagging — and that’s my body! I got it going on! OH YEAH!

my triumphant return to step aerobics

Last night, I returned to my Wednesday night step aerobics class at the gym, which I had to miss the last two months b/c I was taking a screenwriting class. And my return….was glorious. I can’t really explain why I love this class so much. Is step aerobics cheesy? Yes. I mean, the teacher plays Celine Dion, and, yes, he wore a lace baby doll for the Halloween class, but still, I just have so much fun there that I start fantasizing that maybe one day, there will be a step aerobics contest at work and I can be the secret weapon for my company. You know, where I dazzle all with my expert step aerobic prowess. It comes close to what I think my dream job is — dressing up with Molly Shannon as the Catholic School girl and crashing into furniture. That looks like so much fun I can’t stand it.

no. 32, why I love my husband


He keeps the marriage fresh with hip hop-esque phone texts:

From: The Husband

I wuz late4 work–got n trubbl.

Mar 15, 2:44 p.m.

I mean, what is that? He’s a virgo, he’s so meticulous about words, and then I get this random message. It’s too cute. I can’t handle it.

will ferrell

I like Will Ferrell. I think he’s funny. Big deal, right? I mean, liking Will Ferrell is like liking peanut butter. Yeah, I like peanut butter. Who doesn’t like peanut butter. Everybody in the U.S. likes peanut butter and then some.

But I was watching an old SNL episode (yes, my husband and I are the only two left in America still watching ER and and SNL, even when it’s not funny, on a regular basis), where there was an Oracle conference skit and Ferrell plays a motivational speaker. The premise is simply he’s supposed to kick off the conference, has some equipment failure, gets mad, and falls off the stage, and you know what? None of the lines, as written, were particularly funny or witty. It’s just him. He is just a funny guy. He’s just so committed to the moment without any irony, so just when he goes “Welcome to Oracle 2008! Who’s ready to get this conference started?” with whole-hearted enthusiasm, you can hear everyone in the studio audience peeing in their pants.

Mini Ferrell Career Review
I loved “Talledega Nights” (the hits that followed a little less so, b/c the screenplays weren’t as jam-packed with ridiculousness), again, the way he commits to the kiss with Ali G was one hundred percent. (My favorite scene is when he’s with Michael Duncan and he stabs himself in the leg — and he curses Michael Duncan’s son, and Michael Duncan says his next line with such believeable anguish and heat, I fell out of my chair. It’s so intense, I couldn’t stop laughing.) When he ventures into more serious material — not so good.

Remember “Stranger with Fiction”? There’s a scene where he cries, which is supposed to be some kind of turning point for the character, but I could have given a rat’s arse. It didn’t work. There’s something that’s not expressive enough in his face and doesn’t work for the intimate moments. He’s not Steve Carell, who really knows how to act, but can also be big and small. Will Ferrell just knows how to be…which is a.o.k. He’s excellent at ridiculous and big.

My friend Becca heard an interview with him on NPR how he was temping at a bank when he first got started and his “Stranger Than Fiction” character is actually closest to his real personality and the life he could have led. Terri Gross also asked about his body, how his flabbiness is key to his comedy. And he gently responded that, “You know, reviewers keep making that comment, but the truth is I jog all the time.”