Wait up! Wesley, wait up!

April 15, 2009. This means two things. HD just hit 28 on the age scale and taxes are due. Only one of those usually leads to poor saps across the country crying and fretting, and this year I found myself counted in that group. At 2:15 PM, on the day they were due, I finally made sense of all the convoluted extra forms a sole-proprietor and Brooklyn's handsomest man is burdened with filling out, deleted the 17 extra mentions of my pimp van as a work vehicle and decided not to include money I made from robbing trains and stagecoaches as earned income. Worst that can happen, I flee to the Cayman Islands or some other nation that doesn't extradite and spend my days with Wesley Snipes, laughing at the government while playing pickup ball on the streets. At least this way I'll always be protected from vampires and be able to practice my hustling techniques.