Blogworthy: the new “spongeworthy”?
Twice now I have been pressured to update my blog because too much time has lapsed, which is both complementary and trying. I am pretty excited that the three people who actually read my blog have created a little network amongst themselves, where they call or email one another and say, “Okay, whose turn is it to stroke Duder’s ego this time?”, and thusly they come up with comments that sing my blog’s praises, and ask for more frequent postings. On the flip side it is trying, because sometimes I become panicked as I try to determine what is “blogworthy” (to pay homage to Elaine on Seinfeld’s “spongeworthy”).
Here are some items that have been simmering on my back burner of indecisiveness:
• Last night I tightened the screws on the hinges of the door-closing mechanism on the entrance door to our building. I do this because our bedroom is located above the front door, and when the hinge mechanism isn’t set to Duder standards, the door slams loudly, waking me up, and causing me to punch my partner and yell at my coworkers the next day. I understand that this is a sign of total neuroses, which is underlined by the fact that the building manager put up a sign some months ago requesting that the individual who was messing with the hinges knock it off, because said messing was resulting in the door failing to close. See, I try to walk a fine line: how slow can the door close (to minimize the bang!) before it is too slow to have enough momentum to actually close all the way? Is this blogworthy?
• I bought a push up bra, and even I am now staring at my chest. I made a pass at myself last night when I was looking in the mirror. These things are amazing. The top boss at work said more words to me today than he possibly has in the two years that I have been in his employ. Is this a good thing? I have the same academic and intellectual capacity. Hmm… blogworthy?
• The guys that have moved into the suite downstairs are fourteen years old. I’m not kidding. I remember having crushes on similar looking guys when I was in Grade 9. How were they able to rent a suite? One of them rides a skateboard for Chrissakes. I’m not making this up. I went down to tell them to turn down their stereo last weekend (the dishes in our cupboards were actually rattling), and one of them came to the door carrying Optimus Prime and wearing a one-piece pajama thing with a bum flap. Blogworthy?
Yeah, I feel like I’ve got nothing today. I’m tapped out. It’s the Income Tax that’s killing me right now. I was pulling my hair out about a particular question the other night, and it went something like this:
Billy Jow is a music teacher at a local high school. He works full time and earns $50,000 per year. In his spare time he has started teaching piano lessons to kids in a spare room in his house. In talking with some of his friends he learns that he may be able to write off some of expenses as home office expenses. Billy earned $3,700 from May through December of 2005 and had the following expenses: music books $300; paper and supplies $900; piano and bench $2,400; snacks for students $200. What tax advice do you have for Billy Jow?
My answer was: pocket the money you dumb f*ck. It’s $3,700! Maybe in your spare time you can get a frickin’ girlfriend and stop entertaining – and feeding snacks to – minors in your house. You’re a loser. And what kind of shit piano did you pick up for $2,400??
Here are some items that have been simmering on my back burner of indecisiveness:
• Last night I tightened the screws on the hinges of the door-closing mechanism on the entrance door to our building. I do this because our bedroom is located above the front door, and when the hinge mechanism isn’t set to Duder standards, the door slams loudly, waking me up, and causing me to punch my partner and yell at my coworkers the next day. I understand that this is a sign of total neuroses, which is underlined by the fact that the building manager put up a sign some months ago requesting that the individual who was messing with the hinges knock it off, because said messing was resulting in the door failing to close. See, I try to walk a fine line: how slow can the door close (to minimize the bang!) before it is too slow to have enough momentum to actually close all the way? Is this blogworthy?
• I bought a push up bra, and even I am now staring at my chest. I made a pass at myself last night when I was looking in the mirror. These things are amazing. The top boss at work said more words to me today than he possibly has in the two years that I have been in his employ. Is this a good thing? I have the same academic and intellectual capacity. Hmm… blogworthy?
• The guys that have moved into the suite downstairs are fourteen years old. I’m not kidding. I remember having crushes on similar looking guys when I was in Grade 9. How were they able to rent a suite? One of them rides a skateboard for Chrissakes. I’m not making this up. I went down to tell them to turn down their stereo last weekend (the dishes in our cupboards were actually rattling), and one of them came to the door carrying Optimus Prime and wearing a one-piece pajama thing with a bum flap. Blogworthy?
Yeah, I feel like I’ve got nothing today. I’m tapped out. It’s the Income Tax that’s killing me right now. I was pulling my hair out about a particular question the other night, and it went something like this:
Billy Jow is a music teacher at a local high school. He works full time and earns $50,000 per year. In his spare time he has started teaching piano lessons to kids in a spare room in his house. In talking with some of his friends he learns that he may be able to write off some of expenses as home office expenses. Billy earned $3,700 from May through December of 2005 and had the following expenses: music books $300; paper and supplies $900; piano and bench $2,400; snacks for students $200. What tax advice do you have for Billy Jow?
My answer was: pocket the money you dumb f*ck. It’s $3,700! Maybe in your spare time you can get a frickin’ girlfriend and stop entertaining – and feeding snacks to – minors in your house. You’re a loser. And what kind of shit piano did you pick up for $2,400??
posted by Duder at 1:01 PM
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