Knock a hip out

The government has become the bane of my existence. Particularly, with situations involving money from the government. Being a bit strapped for cash, I eagerly attacked my T4 and T2202A and filled out my taxes as soon as humanly possible, also opting for the netfile option in hopes of speeding up the receipt of the coveted tax rebate.

Several weeks after submitting my taxes to the man, I went to the front of the house to check my mail and found a government envelope peering up at me from the bottom of the mailbox; my name glistening in the sun. As eager as I was to submit my taxes, my eagerness reached an all-time high as I ripped the envelope out of the box and proceeded in an attempt to get the envelope open and the cheque out in record time. In my haste, I accidentally hit a button on my car clicker, which in turn, set off my car alarm. With an arm full of unopened mail, I struggled with my keys and tried to get around to the back of the house, to where my car was shrieking, so I could shut it off and quit annoying the neighbours. In my haste, I lost my footing and nearly fell down the cement stairs. I righted myself and managed to find the time, and coordination, to actually turn off my car alarm. No harm, no foul; the tax rebate will take care of any residual embarrassment or pain resulting from my sprained ankle.

Deciding that the neighbours have had enough of a show already, I struggle to get my door open and burst through it in order to get out of the public eye. Already planning on how I'm going to spend my tax return, I rip open the envelope and pull out the cheque. For $32. Dammit. It's my GST cheque not my tax return. I thought that it was awfully fast for the government to have processed my taxes and send out a rebate. Somewhat discouraged, I decided $32 could still be a good time and went out for dinner. And drinks. Mostly drinks. Sorrow can be a difficult feeling to overcome.

A few weeks later, I trudge my way to the front of the house and find another government envelope looking up at me. I decide nothing good can come of this, they probably found some error and it's just another cheque for $32. I calmly walk back to my entrance and proceed to open the envelope. Turns out, it was in fact my tax return and no, they did not find some huge error that resulted in a rebate of $32. Success! I then proceeded to invent ways of spending my rebate, one of which involved going out for dinner. And drinks. Mostly drinks. Excitement can be a difficult feeling to overcome.

Ever put on a coat that you haven't worn in awhile and find a $20 bill in the pocket? Last night, I did just that. Except instead of $20 bill, it was a government cheque for $32. From Oct 2009. Dammit. How long are cheques good for? Six months? One year? Here's hoping they're good for a year, otherwise I just gave the stinking government $32. I think I might go out for dinner. And drinks. Mostly drinks. Resentment can be a difficult feeling to overcome.

*Update* July 27, 2010:

The bloody government conducted a 'review program' on my latest tax return. I have to send in my T2202A for tuition etc to prove I'm a student.  Turns out I messed up my return and submitted as a full-time student instead of part-time. I'm likely going to have to give back some (if not all) of my glorious tax return, which, 3 months later, has undoubtedly disappeared. Fuck me.

I look like a dolphin

Having never before entered into the realm of blogs, I am at a loss as to what to write about. I'm told that content is often overshadowed by wit, so this is my attempt at written wit. I'm a big fan of stories, so this here is a test to see if my typical gesticulations are required in order to make my stories entertaining, or if words alone will do justice.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother, a.k.a. Granny, always called me a smart alec... I've aged some since this time and have come to realize that she was in actuality calling me a smart ass. A term I've come to hear repeatedly throughout my life, pretty much on a daily basis. She must have been on the right track. Granny always was a good judge of character.

One time in particular (a story that Granny often told with a quirky grin on her face) I was just a little girl, maybe 3 or 4 years old. I was up late, way past my bedtime. So it might have even been approaching 7pm. I liked to wait up for Granny to come to bed too, little did I know, between the hours of 7 and 10pm was Granny's only attempt at "me time" and by "me time", I mean, the few spare moments she got when I wasn't around bugging her and being a smart ass... I just had no idea how precious this time was to her.

Any ways, I was up late, sitting on her lap, several times in the minutes past, she eluded to me that it really was time for me to go to bed. Being a smart ass, I chose to ignore these remarks and decided that was her way of saying "Yes, please, stay up with me". Ever the patient one, Granny let this go, but as the clocked ticked on and there was no end in sight, she must have decided that it was time to give me a taste of my own medicine... time to get mean. "Heather, now go to bed. I'm sick and tired of looking at you!". I turned to her, looked her straight in the eye and said, ever so smugly "Well, then look the other way!".

To this day, I'm not sure how she managed to keep a straight face, or how I managed to get away without a spanking. But in the end, she won that battle; I went to bed, probably storming away right choked, because, hey, that's exactly what a smart ass would do.