4:18 p.m. - February 05, 2003
So I called and was proud to see that it's not a 1-800 number (go, government, go!) and made a mental note to deduct the cost of the call on next year's taxes (fully legitimate); spoke to a representative who could only say, The computer says... and said I can file an appeal. Sheesh. Like I'm going to draw more attention to myself? If that's not a trap then I don't know what a trap is; with taxes it's not the squeaky wheel that gets the oil, it's the squeaky wheel gets shafted and taxed and lives to rue the day. I'm stuck on this mysterious $5,000 and (questionable?) deductions. This is a head fuck, the damn bastards.
And likely, a letter from the IRS to follow?
And I had convinced myself to buy a digital camera. Awww. How sad. No toys for Jason for a while.
Who said only the little people pay taxes? Leona Helmsley? The Clintons? Enron? Not sure, but I'm feeling pretty damn little as I break out the checkbook. Mental note 2: Itemize stamp, envelope.