When I think of the IRS, I think of death and taxes, in that order. Thank you, Benjamin Franklin for pointing out our only two certainties in life. So far, I’ve been staving off the Grim Reaper, and I’ve been paying my taxes every year, in an attempt to avoid appearing in the radar of the IRS. Or at least, I try to avoid the IRS as much as possible.

However, I had to call them up today. It seems that there was an error on my tax return this year. I wouldn’t have noticed, but my tax refund was significantly smaller than I had anticipated. I was counting on that money for my vacation this year. I waited for the letter from the IRS in which they explain their adjustment and I immediately spotted the error:  They had me listed as Single instead of Head of Household.

I put off calling them for about a week. Everytime I think of the IRS, audits and federal prisons come to mind. My mother and I panicked when she once received a letter from the IRS to go to their office for an audit. We just expected the worst. We dug up every receipt we could find in the house for the previous year. When she came back home, she was extremely relieved. In fact, after the audit the IRS increased her tax refund because she didn’t claim all of the expenses to which she was entitled!

Years ago, I received an ammended tax return from the IRS, but they actually tripled my tax return because I didn’t properly apply the income averaging formula to which I was entitled after working for minimum wage while I was in the Marines.

But I wasn’t expecting to receive one penny less this year on my tax return. So, I called the toll-free number they provided and I couldn’t get through to a live person. The automated voice message gave me another phone number and extension to call, which I did. Another voice message at the new phone number told me to call the next day or contact them through their website at http://www.irs.gov. Of course, I couldn’t find how to contact the IRS on their website.

I called today and I was suprised to actually talk to a live person, although I did have to wait about twenty minutes on hold. But the woman with whom I spoke was very calm, professional, and understanding. She had a digital copy of my tax return on her computer screen and it turns out that it was I who made the mistake of filing as Single instead of Head of Household. She made the proper adjustment to my tax return and I should have my full refund by next week! Apart from the waiting on hold, the whole experience was quite painless!

They say that without the Internet the entire economy of Nigeria would collapse. We’ve all received those winning lottery notifications. The urgent request from someone with a are large fortune who needs your help to transfer the money out of Nigeria. But the most fascinating scams of all are those that come via Instant Messages. I mean, I’m always invisible when I’m online, but somehow, they find me and IM me. How do they find me anyway?

I remember the good old days of IMing total strangers from around the world. I actually enjoyed some of our converstations, usually in English, but sometimes in Spanish. We would chat for about ten or fifteen minutes and then we would say good-bye, usually forever.

Then, the Internet changed drastically. All these females started IMing constantly. I started to believe that on the Internet I was a stud! Some 27-year-old female, or so “she” claimed, would IM to get to know me better. And she would get to know me quite well because in less than fifty words from me, she fell madly in love with me, no matter how I described myself. I had several descriptions of myself in my repetoire–hey, I’m a writer, no?

Once, I said I was old, fat, ugly, impotent, but my lovely admirer still fell in love with me! See, I am a stud on the Internet! Once, they were in love with me, they felt entitled to ask me for money so we could meet in person. Of course, they never asked for the money outright. There was always a predicament from which I had to rescue them before I could send them money.

One of my “lovers” had gone to Lagos on vacation from a small town in Kansas. And she IMed me that she was trapped in her motel room by the manager who would not let her out until she paid her bill. Somehow, I was obliged to help her because she had no family or friends back in Kansas who would help her. She gave me the telephone number of the manager so I could call him and give him my credit card information in order to pay her motel bill. Color me skeptical, but I didn’t call the manager. I still feel really badly for her because she has probably been locked up in that motel room for three years now. How could I do that to a woman who really, really loved me? She was counting on me, my damsel in distress, and I let her down. No wonder I’m still single!

Another “lover” IMed me so I could help her return to the U.S. Somehow, she had gone to Nigeria from Minnesota on vacation and had inadvertently bought money orders instead of traveler’s checks. She needed my help to cash her money orders. She would Fed-Ex them to me and I would cash them at my bank, and I would immediately wire her the money. Then we could be together forever! She really loved me. I could sense it from the urgency in her IMs. I still feel bad about letting her down. I tried to scare her off by telling her that I was a police officer, but, no, she said I could wear my police uniform to the bank and then I could go to the front of the line. I told her that I needed time to let the money orders clear, but she insisted that I wire her the money immediately after I deposited the money orders. Well, when she asked me for my address in order to Fed-Ex me the money orders, I gave her the address to my police station. It’s been a few years, and I still haven’t received those money orders! I feel so badly for her because she’s probably still stranded in Nigeria. Even her own family in Minnesota wouldn’t help her come back home. I guess I’m a monster.

My friend Liliam tells me that when the Nigerian men contacted her, they would chat awhile and then send her a love poem. I never received a love poem! Am I not worthy of a love poem? Of course, the men also wanted money, too.

After a while, these chats became so routine and mundane that they were no longer interesting for me. Sometimes they were in Germany or England, but they were always trying to go home and/or meet some gentleman and there was always a connection to Nigeria, some way, somehow. Finally, before they even told me that they loved me, I asked them how much money they were going to ask me for. That would instantly end our chat. I can’t believe how easily they were offended! I’m such a cynic, ain’t I?

Now, I just report them as spam and I never hear from them again. But I kind of miss them now. Lately, I receive IMs that invite me to sex chat rooms or live webcams. But no one tells me they love me anymore like my Nigerian girlfriends did. Maybe I’ll start chatting with them again.

I mowed my lawn today. For the first time all year. My neighbors are disappointed that I don’t have a better lawn. When I first moved into this house five years ago, they introduced themselves to me. They seemed happy to have me as a neighbor.

However, I made the mistake of telling them that I was Mexican. It was a mistake because they immediately assumed that I would have a perfectly manicured, weed-free lawn. In fact, they immediately started asking me for tips on improving their own lawn and garden. I told them that I didn’t know anything about landscaping, but they didn’t believe me. I purposely let my lawn fill with weeds just shatter their image of Mexicans as landscapers.

So, every year since then, I make it a point not to mow my lawn until Memorial Day weekend. They give me dirty looks until I mow my lawn. I remember they once lent me their spreader so I could put weed killer on my lawn, which I did. However, then they started giving me even more tips on lawn care, so I mowed my lawn less frequently then.

I’m sorry, but this is a sticking point with me. I don’t have to live up to my neighbor’s expectations. Soon, they’ll approach me while I’m mowing my lawn and make some suggestions on how I can improve my property. I just hate how they do it, though. Usually, the wife sneaks up behind me while emptying the lawn clippings into the garbage can. And she scares the hell out of me! Because I’m usually all alone in my backyard.

I’m not sure how she has managed to sneak up on me so many times. I can’t wait until she approaches me this year. She’ll probably sneak up on me again. But this time, I’ll be the one to shock her when I tell her that I’m selling my house and moving to Mexico.