Localized morality

It occurred to me today, that I am a victim of - and feel free to come up with a better name for it - localized morality.  Something that no one cares about in one place or culture, but makes people go bonkers in another.  I mean like seriously crazy.  The kind of mad that turns one into an enormous bag of douche towards one's fellow man, causing them great misery.

Let's get some background.  I've been in the Air Force for the better part of a decade, and recently came back to learn a second language at the language school I attended right after basic training all those years ago, in [location redacted].  The issue here is that you're forbidden from hanging out with non-prior service students (i.e., people straight out of basic training), like, the same people with whom you spend 7 hours a day in class, and I ended up doing just that.  Which ended up getting me demoted, lost me a bunch of money and will pretty much kill my military career.  Possibly my entire future if they decide to give me a bad conduct discharge.  There's other stuff going on that I'm not going to talk about here, because it's still under investigation (yes, seriously), but suffice it to say that if it weren't a training base, I wouldn't be in this much trouble.  As a disclaimer, I was wrong and a dumbass, and if I could go back and change it, I would. But that's not the point in question.  Back to the point.

Did you know it's illegal to own and consume chewing-gum in Singapore?  No, seriously.  The natives believe the Aspartame causes mental diseases, like left-handedness.  As punishment, the police beat you with a bamboo cane and then pour fire ants on your wounds for 48 hours.  Or something.  Whatever, research isn't really my strong suit.  And before giving me another one of those incredulous looks you're so fond of, consider the fact that things like eating a McRib with your left hand, which I'm sure we've all done in moments of confusion, can give someone amoebic dysentery in a Muslim country.  Or have them put a fatwa on your descendants.  Or something.  

Jeez, relax, it's not even real pork.

Anyway, the point is; does anyone know if such a term (the one in the title) exists?

Sold my trailer today

Yeah I know, the title and topic of this post is more worthy of an attention whore's facebook update than of the musings of this righteous blog's author.  But still, I thought I'd share it with the world.  If you've been reading my blog you'd know that...

Wait, I say that a lot.  The number of times I've told someone "If you've been reading my blog, you'd know that..." is well into the five figures.  Wait, I meant fingers.  Five fingers.  As in, I can count on one hand how many times I've said that to people.  Because I don't have any friends.  :sniff:

Kidding, I tend to say that a lot.  Even if it is to the homeless man who tries not to look at me while he passes by the nest I've made for myself between the dumpsters in back of the TGI Fridays and ask him for change.  Or to the attractive blond I've been chatting up for the past 20 minutes before I realize it's a cardboard cutout of some failed actress who now resorts to hocking diet beer to pay the bills.

Anyway, if you've been reading my blog, you'll know that last year I purchased a folding utility trailer I could tow with my Corolla so I could move all my stuff cross country without having to get a U Haul.  I put it up on craigslist recently, and today the gentleman and I went to the DMV to transfer the title.  To my trusty utility trailer: You were awesomely helpful.  I had a number of adventures with you and will never forget you.  You would always be there, blocking my parking spot when I got home, gathering dust and welcoming me with a smile.  You will be missed.  Even though I probably spent over $700 on you and assorted accessories, and only got 250 for you, you will always be worth more than that to me.  Good bye, and may you serve your new owner well.

Adventures in tax land, or first world problems, if you prefer

In the past, I've had issues with my taxes.  Mostly because I was so eager to file and get some money back, I would file right when I got my W-2, not anticipating the other documents that tended to come in later.  And in what's fast becoming a yearly tradition, I'd have to go back to the tax center and file an amendment.  This year was no different.

At the end of last year, I said to myself that I'd wait to file until I had ALL the documents.  I mean, I wasn't hurting for money.  I didn't have any debts that needed to be paid off, or any large purchases I needed to make.  This year, I'd do the adult thing and wait until I had all the right papers before filing my tax return.  I was expecting my bank, USAA, to send me a bunch of documents all at once at the beginning of the year, and true to form, they dutifully did.  By the way, this has nothing to do with the post, but I absolutely love USAA and have everything with them: banking, insurance, investments, everything.  Just wanted to throw that in there.

Anyway, I also knew to expect a late-comer to the finish line this year, another W-2 for the money I had received due to my move cross-country.  So I finally got that straggler, and made my way over to the local H&R Block on a Saturday morning at the beginning of February.

This was a tax filing day of many firsts.  This was the first year that my life circumstances were making me feel lost and alone, and my usual crystal clear vision of the future was hazed over with fear and doubt because of what I'm currently going through at the hands of the military (they're just doing their job, but my life kind of sucks right now, and I may or may not share the story with you when it's all over).  This was also the first time I had ever paid for a tax return.

Now, normally I just take my return to the military tax center on base and file for free, but this year I had all kinds of complications, such as stock dividends, interest, and living outside of my state of residence for part of the year, so I figured I'd let someone who had been playing the game for years take a look.

They ended up getting me about $4800 back, which more than made up for the exorbitant $236 fee they charged for filing with them.  Now, $4800 may sound like a lot, but most of it was from a re-enlistment bonus, of which the government had helpfully held on to like 40% so I wouldn't spend it all in one place and would be able to pay the taxes I owed at the end of the year.  About 2 weeks after filing, I received my expected federal refund, and waited patiently for the state refund.  I'm still waiting.

It's been 2 months and still no word.  As of this post, I have yet to receive my money, probably because California is broke, or because my tax return paperwork was a complete clusterfuck of state-to-state movings and me trying to deduct stuff like rubber bands, inflatable sheep and flamboyant kilts as 'business expenses'.  The window-lickers at the IRS never knew what hit them.  Probably.

Anyway, that's not even the most frustrating part of this angry white boy rant.  Last November, when the stock market was taking a dysentery diarrhea shit all over everyone, stocks were sliding downhill at an alarming rate due to said shit's viscosity.  Fearing a repeat of the 2007 debacle in which people lost half their net worth, I sold about a third of my equities, and crossed my fingers.  And, my luck being what it is, whadya know, I sold out at the worst possible time, and 2 days later, the stock market started climbing back up and never looked back.  But...even though I'd lost money, I had still made some over the year, and would have to pay taxes on those earnings.

So about a week ago, in fucking March, my bank sends me another dividend statement saying I owe taxes on like 900 dollars in stock gains.  This is like 7 weeks after I had prudently waited and got all my papers in order before filing.

So, tradition dictates that I'll have to go back and file an amendment, damn it.  I'm going on Friday.  Wish me luck.

The End.