First off, some thanks go out to my Secret Pal for this round. On Christmas Eve I received a box from the person I used to call Santa (The UPS man) and was able to gloat as I opened it early. I have pictures of everything, but I'm not sure where the camera cable went.
First was a pair of hand knit cotton mitts in sky blue, very warm and comfy. Next was a hat to match. This hat is so nice, it covers my ears, forehead, and comes to the nape of my neck, all in one fell swoop. I love that in a hat. I also got this cute little snowman mug complete with top hat cover and a ceramic candy cane to stir with. The cane is on the tree. The cutest thing though was the gingerbread man full of hot cocoa mix. He's made of brown paper and is sewn around the edges. I don't think I can bring myself to use him though, he's too cute.
We went to a candlelight service that night, and came back to packages left on the chair by the door. They were to Kitty from "Santa" (in this case the next door neighbors/landlords).
Christmas day was fun, went to Gamma's and had ham.
Bad words and depressing stuff to follow. You can leave if you don't want to read it, I'll understand. Honest.
Silly de-motivational picture to protect innocent eyes.
Today however really reminds my just how much 2008 has sucked in all it's fucking glory. I'm getting audited. All because the company my now ex worked for can't be bothered to do their tax reporting properly. Does the IRS seriously think that a person is stupid enough to try and hide 13 thousand fucking dollars? Oh wait, this is the government I'm talking about. My step-dick should work for them, since he seems to think that they'll give one ounce of caring to the fact that I have no goram memory of the last 3 years. Oh yeah, J and I have to figure out how to manage a fucking audit when we're 2000 miles away. What fun. I actually have to sit there and do all this crap because his company fucked up, but I can guarantee I'll have to pay my own way out there. I still can't get him to commit to a percentage of what travel costs he'll cover for the approved holidays I get with Scott. I still have to laugh (so i don't cry) at what they say is reasonable parenting time. 3 months a year. Once Scott is in school I've been told he's going to change it so I only get him during school brakes. Wonderful. We wonder why I feel like a total failure at this parenting gig. I've gotten to talk to him 2 times since that nice long phone call, and both went the way I've become accustomed to. He doesn't want to talk to me for more than 3 words it seems.
Can I tell the IRS to shove it up GW's ass and make J do all of this himself? After all, he's the one who quit this farce of a relationship. But no, I have to find the tax returns, I have to find out what HR Blockhead does when you get audited. And if you can manage to get a word in edgewise when telling him things about all this you get made to feel you have no right to be upset. Only he can be upset about it. I would think that when you move across the country you'd keep your tax info AT HAND!!! Oh, would that make sense? Cause than you could find the very last pay stub from 2007 and take it to wherever you needed to go, and make them sort this fucking mess out, instead of being a dick to the person trying to fucking help you.
Sorry, needed to rant. It's not like I have anyone I can talk to anyway.