NO Taxation Without Representation

Last weekend this CrankyChick went home for some fun family bonding time AND to have my mom do my taxes. I know, I know, I hear you snickering. You’re just jealous because your mom isn’t as good as my mom and you have to do your taxes yourself or hire a trained professional!

This year I purchased a home – okay a 500 square foot box – in the lovely District of Columbia and I’ve resisted changing over my car tags, license and voting registration. Heck I just changed everything to MD after keeping NC tags, license, etc. for four years after I moved to the area! Anyway, I’m continuing to act out in the same manner by not moving everything over to DC. I did this for one simple reason, okay two reasons. One, I am lazy. Two, I refuse to pay taxes and be forced to vote in a place where your vote does not matter and going over my FEDERAL TAX RETURN this weekend fired me up!

How do people who have lived a lifetime in the District deal with this? Hell I’m nuts and it’s only been four months! (I’m also nuts for other reasons, but that’s for another post.) How does Eleanor Holmes Norton keep herself from walking into the U.S. House of Representatives and scream, yell, and rage at all the idiots who refuse to give DC residents a VOTING member of Congress every single day. WE (citizens of DC) don’t want just some pansy who has to get someone else to sponsor her bills (sorry Eleanor) but a REAL member of Congress. AND, I don’t want to have to give Utah another seat either. I don’t care about Utah – I care about us!

This isn’t about getting another Republican to balance out the Democrats – this is about what’s fair. I pay taxes, I want a voting member of Congress. It’s that damn simple – OR I’m taking back all of my money, take that George! I think I’m going to have to devote some serious CrankyTime to figuring out how I can claim a number of dependents so high that the “Man” gets no more of my money until the law is changed… or until I’m thrown in the clink for not paying my taxes.

If I Had My Own TV Show

I’ve figured out why I love “Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares” and almost all judge shows – because the show is basically about people calling other people on their shit and telling them to knock it the hell off. I want a show like that!

I’m going to hire a camera crew and producer to follow me around while I gently encourage the citizens of our country to pull their socks up. I think my catchphrase will be, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

I plan to start with the Metro. My first targets will be people who step onto the train and just STOP MOVING, so that everyone behind them crashes into them and can’t get on the train. “Excuse me, sir? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING???!!?”

Then I’ll confront the raging jackass who thinks he deserves to have a seat all to himself and gently explain that his briefcase doesn’t need a seat and that since he didn’t pay a fare for his briefcase, he should give up that seat DURING RUSH HOUR to another HUMAN. I don’t want to sit next to him though, because he’s a SELFISH BASTARD.

I shall also explore the reasoning of people who stand on the wrong side of the escalator, jam up the area near the car doors when there are plenty of free seats and they’re not getting off for another 10 stops, leave their newspapers in the car when there are receptacles JUST FOR NEWSPAPERS AT EVERY STOP, and block the turnstiles staring at their non-functioning farecards so that no one can get by them. All together now, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING??!?”

We’ll also feature people who read books while driving on the freeway; people who actually attempt to drive, eat and talk on their cell phones at the same time; people who cut in line; people who steal parking spaces, oh…the list goes on and on.

I’m calling my show “America Wants to Know, ‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING??!?’” Coming soon to a TV screen near you…

Valentines Schmalentines

I’m not normally one of those single gals who gets horribly depressed, wears black, and cries “woe is me” because I don’t have a fella on Valentines. This year, had it not been for the constant Every Kiss Begins With Kay commercials on TV and the radio, I might have actually forgotten about the entire holiday! Silly me, like the folks that run the jewelry store would ever let me forget.

This sums up how I feel about yesterday.

CrankyFashionChick got this from her loving husband.

CrankyCheeseCurlChick got this from her boyfriend.

It was a lovely piece of quiche but she ate it before I had a chance to get a pic.

And I got this.

After a long day of work and parking what seems like miles away from my apartment, I finally make it home and stumble through the front door while trying to open my only Valentine (a very lovely card from my Dad which actually made me a bit misty – but maybe that was the pain, hmmm must re-read tonight) and at the same time I give myself a giant paper cut, hence my bandaged finger. I must have sloping shoulders because every day my purse falls off my shoulder as I’m trying to get myself and my gigantic handbag through my front door. Basically, the purse fell, my hand jerked, and I sliced my finger with the damn pink envelope. Even when you win, you lose!

So, I guess this year’s Valentine’s Day left me a lot like my finger – stung at first but ultimately patched back up and over it.

***Correction: I actually got two Valentines this year. A very cute card that didn't make me bleed!

A Random Thought...

All too often, riding in a cab is like visiting with a crazy uncle – you’re trapped in a small space with someone who insists on espousing insane and sometimes offensive opinions as though they were fact. And you just have to listen politely, and sometimes even smile and laugh weakly, until it’s over.

The only difference is that you don’t have to pay your crazy uncle.

Change Your Underwear

I love Donna Karan. She has been my fashion hero since her days working with Louis Dell'Olio at Anne Klein. When she launched her five easy pieces line for her own company, I was enraptured. Half my closet is DKNY. So imagine my distress when I discovered this priceless item on the "New Arrivals" page on the DKNY web site.

Why do I want a coin pocket in my underpants? Under what circumstances is anyone going to need to stash change while standing around in their underwear? And how much change can you get in there, anyway? 75 cents? Maybe one of those new gold dollar coins?

I am beyond perplexed. If anyone can explain the purpose of underpants with pockets, please let me know. I guess instead of changing our underwear, Donna wants us to underwear our change.

LOSTini!

Two of my favorite things in the whole world are Lost and cocktails, so here's my recipe for a cocktail in honor of one of my favorite shows...the Lostini:

2 parts mango juice
2 parts peach juice
1 part pineapple juice
1 part orange juice
1 part orange vodka
1 part Midori
1 part Curacao

Shake over ice and strain into a martini glass. The lovely color is reminiscent of the island and the tropical flavors make it the perfect Lost-watching beverage.

The ideal garnishes would be a pineapple wedge, a plastic palm tree and a teeny, tiny plastic plane.

Special thanks to CrankyBossChick for her input.

Panda-monium

All right folks – let’s chat about the Super Bowl! No, not the phenomenal job the Giants’ defense did on that pansy Tom Brady. The man had purple lips, no? Was my TV the only one with weird color? I only ask because last year after the Oscar telecast we were having our fashion debrief and CrankyCheeseCurlChick said she liked all the dresses but that everyone wore beige. Huh?!? I had to pull up pics of celebs online to prove to her that something was in fact WRONG with her TV because everyone was not wearing beige. Anyway, I spent most of the game pondering if Tom was continually drinking grape Gatorade or if he just liked grape Chapstick. For the record I think he has strange colored lips and that my TV is fine!

Let’s talk commercials! For the most part I thought they were lame, but one stuck out in my mind.



Um, when did blatantly racist commercials become funny? After it was over, I looked at my friend. She was just staring with the same “WTF?” face on that I did. Seriously folks - we’re past bad stereotypes as punch lines. There wasn’t one person at the ad agency where this was created who said, “wait…maybe this is too much”? One commenter on Mollygood said “I also can’t believe its creators spent so much money yet failed to cram in the big round glasses and buckteeth as an Asian stereotype. If you’re going to pay that much to broadcast racist sentiment to one of the largest TV audiences of the year, get your money’s worth and fit in all you can.”

Ugh, people suck.