I really, really hate income tax

It's a stellar, sunny, September day today and yet I've spent an hour trying to determine what Minnie Mouse (a commissionable sales person) can deduct from her employment income for 2005. Why do they name the characters in complicated tax questions so? Are we, the students, supposed to give pause and laugh at the absurdity of having to determine the complex tax ramifications for Scrooge and Tiny Tim? Is this somehow supposed to alleviate the pounding pain in my head, or eradicate the scowl lines on my forward as my brow furrows in exasperation? I think, on that day not far from now, that wet, miserable, blistery afternoon where I will sit for the last time and try and regurgitate everything that my teacher has tried to cram into my tiny brain for the prior 14 weeks, that when I come across the question relating to Goofy's taxable auto benefits I will inhale calmly, pick up pencil and write, on that vast, vacant white space available to me for ponderance and pontification, "Goofy is a dog. Dogs don't pay taxes. I am not twelve. Walt Disney was an anti-Semite."
The tax related twitch in my eye aside, things are good. It is sunny and it is Saturday. I am going to go for a run with Michael, and perhaps grab a coffee afterwards. Last night I FINALLY went to Bin 942. Fantastique! What a tiny, tasty, brilliant place! Sarah and I had some nice wine and split the hummus and Navajo fry bread - delectable. It's my new favourite place.... I just need to find that rich doctor to help me facilitate this somewhat-more-expensive-than-the-Cheshire experience.
Afterwards I met with my friend Daryl and we had sushi, which we were both craving desperately. I was mortified to find that he has yet to see The Big Lebowski. How is this possible? I think it's paramount to sacrilege that he contributes to Duder's blog, without a full understanding of who Duder is. What are you, a nihilist?