Epic Fail

I am a self assured, graceful, independent female.

That being said, I am sometimes a klutz and idiot.
And by sometimes I mean a lot.

I found that a big smile and an apology sitting on my lips just waiting to said is usually the best way to get help during those times that I'm not so much independent and more klutz.

Last Monday was one of those times.

It started off badly. The Sunday night before I had spent a few (a lot) merry hours with Jess and Liz. We drank Sangria and giggled. I'm sure we did more then that but the details are fuzzy. In a good way.

So Monday rolled around. But this wasn't just any Monday, oh no, this was the dreaded TAX MONDAY. As in, give me all your money Monday. I had attempted to file my taxes back in February, but due to me being an irresponsible adult I found out that I owed far more on my state taxes then I had planned. So back in February I dutifully filed my federal taxes and made a promise to myself that as soon as I had the money for my state taxes I would pay them and not wait until the last minute as I am prone to do.

So Tax Monday rolls around and I have to get up at the crack of 9am to go mail my taxes. But first to the bank. There I growl at the bank teller, explaining that I need a big ass check made to US Treasury and hurry before I turn around in three circles in the middle of the bank and go back to sleep. Cause I can sleep anywhere.

He prints my check and carefully hands it to me when he is assured I won't bite his hand. I walk out the door.

Then I walk back into the bank.

I explain in a humiliated voice that I meant to have the check made out to the Arizona Department of Reserve. He appears troubled. He looks at me, then the computer for a long time. Then he goes and gets his manager. They talk in hushed voices, then the manager looks at me, then the computer for a long time as well.

It's about this time I realize they think I am trying to scam them.

I attempt to smile winningly at them, but due to the early morning hours it may have been more of a grimace. Either way, they were not reassured.

Once they realize I am not in fact trying to steal money from the bank and that I am in fact just stupid, they change the check and send me on my way.

I go to the post office.
Now first realize that I haven't been in a post office since Ireland. And even before that my relationships with post offices was more aqquantices then personal. So I walk into this dingy building has little resemblance to the soaring timeless bullet ridden post office that I knew. There is a line of course. I grab the first large envelop I see and stuff the necessary paperwork and check into it. It says "express".

Finally it is my turn, I walk up to the portly elderly gentleman behind the counter. I set down my other tax paperwork (I brought it in, knowing I would forget something) and handed him my "express" envelop.

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey. Why did you put your taxes in this? This envelop will cost you 18 dollars to mail.

Me: Umm..

United States Post Office Employee:
< rips open offical envelop> We'll just pretend this didn't happen, here fill out the address on this normal envelop.

Then he beings to go through the contents of the envelop. I am slightly offended. What does he think he's doing going through my mail? Isn't there some kind of law against that? My feathers are starting to get ruffled when he says..

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey Where is your WW2? You're missing your WW2

Me: Umm. Shit. How could I forget that I'm normally not so.. Oh here it is! < add National WW2 to paperwork to be mailed>

United States Post Office Employee:
Oh honey That's the wrong WW2, you clearly need your state WW2.

At this point he just takes my paperwork from me, goes through every pile and correctly puts it together, all the while making disappointed sighing noise.

I try to melt into the floor.

United States Post Office Employee:
Ok honey, that will be 49 cents.

Me: I only have a card...

United States Post Office Employee:
Don't worry honey. I'll cover it.

United States Post Office Employee:
You know honey, next year you just need to hire an accountant. Someone who will just file your taxes for you. I realize you're 18 and this is your first time but...


I didn't have the heart to tell him I am 25 and normally considered a very capable adult.

Instead I squeaked out my thanks, put my tail between my legs and all but ran out of there.

Just as any strong, self assured independent female would have.

Sometimes I like to dress up..........

We finally had our house warming party... four months too late.

We wanted it to be fun and light, so we made it a "come as your favorite cartoon character" costume party.

Our party was wildly successful.

I dressed up as Daphne from Scooby Doo, I really wanted to spray paint bodhi brown and make him my Scooby. Then I realized he's too protective and would probably try to eat the first male that hugged me. So Bodhi was shipped off to The Boy's mom's house.

After making my costume I made The Boy his. He choose Mighty Mouse. I made the body suit and the underroos, he found the muscle shirt and the cup. Needless to say his costume was a hit.

Jess wanted to do fire nation Katara from the cartoon Avatar. She actually came over and we worked on it together. I forgot how much fun it is to have a girlfriend to sew with. Which I realize makes me sound so 1950's but I don't care. I love sewing. I'm terrible at crafts and not creative at all. But sewing? Material makes sense to me.

I was so thrilled to see everyone's costumes. There was Speed Racer and Meg from Family Guy and Samuria Jack.

But the best part of the party was the next morning. About half of the people stayed the night, sprawled out on couches, curled up on the carpet in corners and sharing beds. As morning light filled the house and insisted we wake up we all gathered to one area, huddled in blankets and clutching water bottles. One of the boys went and got Jack in the Box and brought back breakfast. The smell made Andy vomit, but the rest of us were grateful.

And we sat there for an hour or two. Just talking softly and laughing loudly.

So yeah, I'd call our first party a success.

Sometimes I Can Be Mushy