I know. I haven’t blogged in…probably two years. That’s okay. It was starting to feel like a chore to come up with more pieces of horrible medical advice, and I really don’t like to make extra stress for myself.
Recently, however, I have been running into some minor issues with this whole attempt at Being A Motherfucking Adult. And as much as I don’t like to create extra stress, sometimes when life creates the stress on its own, it’s nice to, well, chronicle it. And I thought, “Hey, don’t I have a blog that I could use for that?” So here we go. A chronicle of my pointless attempts at Being A Motherfucking Adult, starting with an open letter to the Massachusetts Department of Transportation.
I really don’t understand your desire to receive this excise tax, since I’ve always been pretty sure that excise tax is a town thing, but that’s okay. I’m okay with the fact that you probably have no right to demand this from me, and I’m perfectly willing to pay it.
I was also perfectly willing to pay it last year, even though the car for which you are asking excise tax, in actuality, belongs to my brother. I have no idea why it was in my name.
Anyway, you should know that I am (and was) perfectly willing to pay that excise tax. You should know, because I sent you checks. My mom sent you checks. I think everyone sent you checks. It was kind of like an episode of Oprah in here. I’m sending a check! You’re sending a check! We’re ALL sending checks!
Nonetheless, you continue to send me letters, so I thought I would explain something to you:
You know those pieces of paper with a bunch of nonsensical writing on them that you have been receiving from me and my mom for the past two years? You know, the ones with a name and address in the top corner, and some numbers written on them as both numbers and as words, and then a big squiggly thing at the bottom?
Those are called checks. See, they work kind of like money–well, money that can only be used once. I write the check, and you deposit it and get money in your bank account, OR you cash it and get money in your hand! I know, it’s crazy, but it works and it’s a thing that people do.
In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s the only way you’ll accept money, so I would expect you to know what to do with it.
So next time you get one of these pieces of paper from me or my mom, please don’t just throw them away! They serve a very important purpose–namely, they make it so you’ll allow me to ever get a Mass driver’s license again, which I notice you’re now suddenly not okay with, despite the numerous checks that have been sent to you to ensure that it would be a possibility.
Please, instead, bring that check to a fancy institution that we call a “BANK” and ask them about it. They’ll know what to do! I promise.
Thank you and fuck you.
I think this is the first and only time in history where the government just doesn’t know how to take money from someone. Thanks, government.