FFS Friday - the Where's My Freaking Tax Return You Bastards?? Edition

Oh hai! I haven't whined for a while. Stuff's been ok for the most part. This week has contained a noticeable build up of stupid though.

I finally got all our gazillion payment summary things and decided to do our tax myself this year. FFS.

WonderMan is going to get a tax bill. FFS.

I got a tax return. No FFS.

Turns out after WonderMan worked five separate jobs this tax year my Centrelink estimate was about $15000 short. FFS.

My tax return has been swallowed up by the overpayment, and there's still some to pay back. FFS.

So I put myself through all of that trauma of lodging online and I'm not getting a cent. FFS.

If I'd gone to an accountant I'd be at least $200 worse off but that is not much consolation right now. FFS.

Frog has returned to her factory default settings, all of which are "NO." FFS.

Every word I say needs a smart answer according to Tiger. Every damn word. FFS.        

WonderMan was supposed to sell his car three months ago because his work is just down the road, and I've just been forced to pay more freaking registration for it because he's still driving it to work every day, regardless of whether it's registered or not. FFS.

He insisted he would only drive it if it was pouring with rain and he didn't want to get me up. Every day for two weeks I've been sending him a text message that says "So I assume it's raining on your lazy arse because it sure as hell isn't here." FFS.

He is shitty because I drive to work. Well yes, I do, because I have to get two children to literally opposites edges of the town and get back to work in the middle. In heels. FFS.

I'm still a temp, and stuck in that terrible place between leaving to go to a permanent or full time job, and holding out because the company I work for are fantastic and I don't particularly want to go anywhere else. FFS.

I just finished reading 50 Shades of Grey. FFS.

I want to stab my eyeballs with a fork. FFS.

I would be much happier if the low intelligence life form who wrote it was forced to pay damages and compensation to those of us who have subjected ourselves to the torture of reading it just so we can shut up the various idiots telling us we are not allowed to have an opinion on it until we have read it. FFS.

I can't find strong enough words to tell them my opinion. It made me alternately murderous and desperately hopeless about the fate of the human race if the majority is excited by such gormless drivel. FFS.

I can't afford to buy a better book to heal my rotting brain cells because I'm not getting a damn tax return. FFS.

You should all go visit Dear Baby G, and share your first world whines too.