There's nothing quite like filling out tax forms to remind you that you're not even close to being a fully functioning adult, with their talk of "investments" and "home ownership" and "needing to understand what money is". Whaaatever. Here's what I'm writing on my stupid doodoohead tax forms this year - NOW who's the grownup, UNCLE SAM???
Did I EVER! Oh man, I made SO many investments last year -- stocks, bonds, you name it. Sometimes I'd sell stocks to buy bonds and vice versa. "Buy low, sell high," that's MY motto!
Actually, hold on a sec, I'm closing a deal on my Bluetooth right now. No, you listen to ME, Henderson, you pencil-pushing terdwit, I want 9000 shares of BlorfCorpp and I want them YESTERDAY, not tomorrow, not after breakfast, NOW. Liquidate some cash flow then let's hostile takeover FlezzleTech. They can 4-D print!!! Wave of the future, boy-o, you gonna be hanging ten or sittin' with the seaweed? Just shoot me a "shoe-betcha" and you'll be rakin' in the moo-lah faster than the Bugatti Veyron that you'll soon own goes from zero to one-eighty! BOOM! Sold the bastard! Hand me my portfolio. Yes, the Trapper Keeper with the dolphin high fiving the other dolphin in front of 7 planets which are all Saturn.
Ballpark estimate on my Investment interest, I guess, would be around $1.1 million, but here's a real "StockChart" so you can see for yourself:
Well, I'm unmarried and pretty much anything sexual I do takes place in front of a computer at 2 and/or 10 am, but yes, actually, I have a son who I love very very much and depends on me like, a shitload. Lil' Danny Jr., I call him. He is my rock.
He's always wearin' ballcaps and scamperin' off to the swimmin' hole to catch some 'boodlebugs', then he comes home for supper right around sundown with his knees all scuffed up and he's like "Paw, can Sally Mae stay for dinner?" and I'm like "Well, I don't know...did you finish sweeping the silo and taking care of that puppy you found and are now responsible for?" and he's like "Yessir, I done that stuff up real nice, I promise!" and I'm like "Did you finish all of your schoolwork?" and he's like "Extrey! Extrey! Schoolwork finished!" and hands me a newspaper with that headline then shines my boots. And I'm like "Welllllll...Allllllll right." and he's like "Jeepers goshy googoo, Mister, thanks a thousand!" then he runs off excitedly to go finger that chick. Apple of my eye, that little feller.
Do I need to put a dollar amount here? How much does a kid cost? 80 grand? Shiiit, they could have this bastard for 80 grand. Haha, I'm just kidding. Wouldn't trade that kid for all the gold in China. That'd be such a weird trade, right? You'd be skeptical of the seller's motives too.
Yes I have so many gambling losses. Had a rough year with Miss Lady Vegas, or as I call her, "The Sinful City" -- I lost around $3000 at the craps table when I kept saying "C'mon, daddy needs a new pair o' shoes for baby!" and blowing on the dice and throwing them and they always turned out to be whatever number is bad to get in craps. Then I went to the Highroller Area (they told me my white-tie-tux was TOO fancy to let me in but I slipped the floor manager a coupla SuperFranklins (those are $1000s) to look the other way -- should I count those in this section?) and got totally slammed at Blackjack by seven Bond villains working in cahoots with the dealer. One dude had a sarcophagus-shaped cigar cutter and had his mistress turned into sand after I banged her on the table in front of him.
Anyway, total gambling losses not counting the 50-grand chip-tips I flipped to the dealers afterwards were around 780,000. FRANCS!
I rent an apartment with two other dudes, but we still made SO MANY energy improvements in calendar year 2012! First off, our couch is now a hybrid. When you sit on it, it turns your body heat into energy to power the whole house, and all the excess clean energy turns the birdbath in our giant nonexistent yard into a little bird Jacuzzi. Then sparrows and robins see the Jacuzzi bubbles and they're like "PARTAYYY!" and they hop in, and the whole thing gets filmed for a reality show called Cupid's Sparrow on SPARJO HD (the Sparrow Network - they bought out MOJO HD) and all proceeds (or should I say pro-SEEDS???) from that show get spent on carbon credits that offset the carbon footprint of the tiny sparrow mics and cameras onehundredfold.
Also solar panels. Which are basically like, us going down on Mother Earth.
Total amount, ONE MEEELION DOLLARS!!! I'm holding my thumb to my face. Haha lighten up, tax form, my impression's not that bad!
Ehh, well, it's tough to define what a "second" home is. My beachside megacondo in Tahiti isn't my principal residence, plus it's not really a "home" so much as a "Round-Tha-Clock Coconut-Scented FuckPalace". But, if you base "first" and "second" homes solely on "amount o' honeys nailified", then I guess my Tahiti condo probably does have a slight edge over my roofdeck penthouse in Dubai, my crystal skiing Chateau in the Alps, and my aforementioned Brooklyn apartment that I rent with two other dudes, where I live. For specific numbers, consult the chart below:
I don't actually "have" health insurance, or more accurately, I have some but it's one of those post-college "If I die my mom gets like fifty bucks" policies, so I don't really ever go to the doctor just to be like "Hey, my blank hurts, can you fix that?" and he's like "Sure, just say a body part instead of the word 'blank' and we can get started with the medicine." But that's still a deduction, right?
OHHH WAIIIT, actually I just remembered, I did pay a ton of medical expenses last year (you said two thousand and TWELVE, I thought you said two thousand and ELVES, like you meant the year 2000 then changed the subject to elves really fast). Yeah, my spouse had this tumor growing on her brain and she swore it was giving her prophetic dreams, but when it started glowing all neon colors we went to the doctor he was like "I'm sure it's nothing" then he hit a secret button and these shady FBI dudes came and took her into custody and I was like NOOOOOO and they operated on her but the tumor killed the FBI dudes (did I mention it turned into a monster by this point? Well it had) and it was up to me to be like, "we have to blow up the hospital!" and this sexy doctor was like "You're crazy, Hopper!" and I was like "This crazy?" and we fuckin' made out HARD then I killed the monster by blowing up the hospital (I pulled an EKG wire out of the wall and ripped it open and clicked two sparks together) and me, her, and my recovered spouse went and had a threesome but HOLY CRAP that hospital must've been expensive. We'll say like one billion dollars? Cool.
I am totally an adult who makes investments, owns real estate, makes money, goes to the doctor, does laundry, cleans the apartment, purchases toilet paper and soap in advance so I don't have to use paper towels and shampoo for six-day periods before I remember to replace them, buys fruit and vegetables and eats fruit and vegetables and loves fruit and vegetables, sleeps on a healthy schedule that doesn't include watching Chopped repeats at seven hundred a.m., and just generally does all the things that responsible, money-earning grownups do, because I am definitely a money-earning grownup.
Did I just use the word "grownup"? Haha, us grownups don't do that. I meant, uh, whatever us adults say. "Whipper snappers"? Whoa gee look at the time, I gotta get back to my real important office where I work - can you fax this form to my secretary when it's done, ideally during fiscal business hours? My fax number is my name @ Gmail. Adult Man OUT!
(Pics via Shutterstock)