mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Damn the Man! First, let me warn you that I am drinking. So, please forgive any typos and grammar mistakes that you may see. It's the everclear and vodka, lemon/lime and cherry flavors that are controlling the keyboard tonight. If you wanna blame someone, call Tropical Liquers here in Columbia. They also go by the name "Trops." Whatever the name, it is numb happiness that they provide. Remember that bit of depression I had earlier this week? It has blossomed into a full case of manic/depression. So... yeah. This entry is from the "Psycho-JP Collection." I *finally* got me some new plates for my car today. After six months of driving illegally, I am now one of the elite "normal" people. But don't think I got out of becoming legal cheaply. Nosiree Bob. First, I had to pay my property taxes. Since the only piece of property I own is a car, I had to pay yet another chunk of taxes. Sixty dollars' worth of taxes, to be exact. Then, I had to drive across town to the license plate bureau. Think license plate people are happy to see me? If you do, you are wrong. They are never happy to see anybody. I wonder why they get into the profession of serving the public, because every single one of those women hate the public. Or they just always hate me. Either one. All I know is that, every time I go in there, they never seem happy to give me a tag. It's like they are doing me a favor that I don't deserve. So, in the end, after waiting 15 minutes for the woman to figure out the computer program, and me saying under my breath that she must be an idiot (and I think she heard me), I finally got my tags. But not before I had to write yet another check for $70. I really don't mind paying taxes. It is a part of civic duty that I accept as a fact of life. I kind of feel proud of myself when I pay taxes, because I feel like I am a functioning member of society. What bugs the hell out of me is when I have to pay double taxes on everything. I paid a tax for owning my car. Then, I paid a tax for showing that I paid a tax for my car. Then, when I got gas, I paid another tax so I could use my car. Then, once I processed all of my earnings for the year, I pay yet more tax because I earned too much. Oi. For some reason, I get the feeling that our current tax system isn't quite what our forefathers had in mind. I'm quite economically concervative, so I have a lot of ideas that could easily cut down these taxes. But being drunk doesn't really help my arguments any. So, I'll let that pass. Speaking of concervativism... Go look at my girl GOP Girl. She took that naked pic of me romping around in the snow and pasted it right in the middle of her entry. How great is that?!? I think she may be a late-posting entry into the Hit-Slut contest. And since one of my winners hasn't contacted me about her winnings, I could easily make her one of my winners. But once again, I am drunk. So, if you get mad at that, I have a good excuse. Well, this alcohol is really getting to me. Literally: I can't feel my knees. Everclear is quite strong, no? I like to get drunk when I am alone. Yes, I know that is a sign of alcoholism. But only doing this once every 3 or 4 months is more evidence that it is just a way to mellow out some jumpy emotions. I am off. Take care. More to come tomorrow. 11:46 p.m. - Thurs., Jan. 31, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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