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The damn groundhog is DRUNK, you guys.
Feb. 2nd, 2011 08:57 pmSo I figured out why my tax return was so low. Know why? Because my W-2 showed that I supposedly claimed two exemptions.
I used "supposedly" sarcastically, because I know damn well to claim no one and nothing. I don't know who the hell put me down as having two exemptions when I filled out my new-hire paperwork, but it sure as hell wasn't me. And after asking around, apparently this is not a new fuck-up that my job has pulled. One of the women there said that her twenty-year-old son -- single, no kids, and still living at home -- had a massive headache when he tried to file his taxes his first year working there and discovered that they put him down for FOUR exemptions.
Everybody was like, "Are you going to see if the can fix it for last year?", but ... yeah, they can't. Whatever. I filled out a new W-4 and brought it to payroll and managed not to flip out on the poor receptionist who had nothing to do with it. Problem solved for next year.
In less stressful news, I AM HOME. I AM NOT IN A HOTEL. I REPEAT, I AM NOT IN A HOTEL.
Otis was clingy for all of five minutes before deciding that his time would be much better spent racing around the apartment yowling at the top of his lungs. Fun, that.
I used "supposedly" sarcastically, because I know damn well to claim no one and nothing. I don't know who the hell put me down as having two exemptions when I filled out my new-hire paperwork, but it sure as hell wasn't me. And after asking around, apparently this is not a new fuck-up that my job has pulled. One of the women there said that her twenty-year-old son -- single, no kids, and still living at home -- had a massive headache when he tried to file his taxes his first year working there and discovered that they put him down for FOUR exemptions.
Everybody was like, "Are you going to see if the can fix it for last year?", but ... yeah, they can't. Whatever. I filled out a new W-4 and brought it to payroll and managed not to flip out on the poor receptionist who had nothing to do with it. Problem solved for next year.
In less stressful news, I AM HOME. I AM NOT IN A HOTEL. I REPEAT, I AM NOT IN A HOTEL.
Otis was clingy for all of five minutes before deciding that his time would be much better spent racing around the apartment yowling at the top of his lungs. Fun, that.
