The Journey Starts Here

Welcome to my odd sense of humor. Not always for the faint of heart.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Rubber Chickens, Clown Noses and Taxes

Hello from Awkward Humor!  I know it’s been awhile since I’ve posted, which I apologize for.  Things have been extremely crazy for me over the last few weeks.  I’m hoping that this week will see things calm down.  I wrote several posts, but decided not to post them, since they didn’t meet my standard.

But I’m here now.  I’m sure you missed me, and who could blame you?

It’s tax time again, the part of the year where we all gripe and moan, and hope to get back tons of money from our Government.  Hey, at least they DO give back what we over paid.  It’s always been a mystery to me why our tax laws are so difficult.  I blame it on the rich who manage to somehow get exemptions passed so they can keep even more of the millions they already have.  Apparently, they think they can take it with them when they die.  I’m not sure how they plan on doing that since a casket is only so big.  Of course, with that much money I guess you can have a custom casket built as big as you want.  Fortunately, that is not my problem.  Or maybe that is unfortunately, since I’m not rich.

But I digress.  I was writing about taxes.

Maneuvering through the various tax paperwork is like maneuvering through a mine field.  It’s something my wife refuses to let me do, because she is smart.  I do, however, count myself lucky that I have her to do our taxes instead of lugging all our papers to someone to do if for us.

Which brings me to the point of this post.  What, exactly, has come of the world when companies who do taxes for you offer it though a carnival atmosphere?

Seriously, have you noticed?

All you have to do is drive down the road.  You will see people standing on street corners, in various stages of dress, dancing, gesturing, even singing, trying to point you to their service.  I’ve seen signs and even  a certain company who gets someone dressed as the Statue of Liberty to try and convince you that you should come and get your taxes done.  I guess they think that everyone drives around with all their financial paperwork in the car, so that when they see a crazy dancing person they will go “hey, that reminds me, it’s time to get my taxes done and I have no problem putting my tax return in the hands of a dancing teenager dressed as the Statue of Liberty.”

Because, hey, that makes perfect sense.

I don’t know about you, but the fact that these companies will even put people on street corners dancing and gesturing, even singing, doesn’t exactly inspire me to confidence.  Of course, maybe these companies give rubber chickens or clown noses as a return instead of cash.

I don’t intend to find out.

Instead, I will keep trusting my lovely wife to do our tax returns, and leave the clowning around to those on street corners.


  1. Ha! I saw someone dressed like that statue of liberty too!

    I saw one sign today on a stop sign post that said they'd do your taxes for $89, but there was no phone number, no email, no nothing. I can't imagine that they'll get much of a response to that.

    As for carnival atmosphere, they have a booth set up at the local Wal-Mart. I'm not sure what goes on in there, but I hear a lot of giggling and every so often it sounds like a trapdoor opens and you can hear a loud splash. The sign says that if you can dunk the clown, they'll double your refund. (Okay, I totally made this last one up, but the first two are true.)

  2. Oh man, that is priceless! To bad you made that up, because that would be funny.

    Yeah, advertising for your business and not including contact information..... that's a bit awkward.

  3. I can't even stand to discuss taxes....ugh...the only thing I do is fill out FAFSA for our college darlings. The taxes, Hubs takes over to a friend and she does them for us--she has been doing this for our 27 years together. If anything ever happens to her, we're sunk. LOL

  4. I hear you! If something happens to my wife, I'm screwed in so many ways.