Marvin already sent our pressing and highrollin' tax information to his uncle, who does our taxes every year, and I just got a tax thingamajig from BlogHer. I forgot I make money from BlogHer.
Plus of course I should get that tax info from FedEx. All that money they're payin' me.
Marvin has always sent his info to his uncle, who is an accountant, and it seems like one of us is always freelancing, and I know we are irritating. But his uncle never gets annoyed with us. At least he never says he is. But imagine how it must chafe to figure out the taxes of a freelancing person. Imagine how peevish it must be to be an accountant in general.
I threw in that maniacal photo of Tallulah above for no reason, other than it amuses me. I like how she acts like keeping that crab is a matter of utmost importance. Kind of like taxes. I have spelled it "tazes" every time I have written it today, except of course the one time here where I tried to write "tazes" on purpose. Hate.
Speaking of utmost importance, I must return to my statistics book, and today I got an email from someone who has said he was gonna send me work before Christmas, and he just stampeded to the work like no time had passed. "June, this client wants blah-de-blah-blah, and be sure to look out for blee-doo-bloo-bloo." I'm all, who ARE you? Were you in a coma and unaware of it? Because it's FEBRUARY. I'd given UP on you, and yes, I AM mad that you want to pay me money right now.
Before I return to the riveting world of fonts and kerning, Faithful Reader Jill Munroe sent me another photo of her in her Bye Bye, Pie t shirt, and I am starting to see a…theme…in people's photos.
Also, I'd like to point out that Faithful Reader Jill Munroe has my dream nose. Yes, I do dream of noses. Have you seen mine? Mine causes night sweats. Look at her cute perky nose. It's the kind of nose people drag in to the plastic surgeon. Somehow in a flurry of emails she promised that I could rip it off her body at her funeral. Don't ask.
All y'all all have a lovely day. And I hope the crab is yours. Metaphorically speaking.