Screw you, tax-pig

I didn’t think that by the time I was 28 I would receive a letter from the taxman telling me I owed the £150 and it would feel like I’d been jabbed in the side of the head with a red hot poker, but hey. Them’s the breaks.

Not so much because I didn’t expect to owe the taxman money – and looking at it, they’re probably right – but because I expected that £150 would be easily affordable for me by this age. Seems sitting on your keister for however many years waiting for the billions to come to you doesn’t quite work.

New plan of attack necessary. But let’s not go into that right now.

For now I have to worry about paying that money (which I can, don’t worry) while simultaneously trying to save £1,000 to go to Florida in October and saving even more money to get a new PC. This one, while still functioning with the Spirit Of The Blitz and running everything I need it to run, is creaking a bit under the strain.

Plus the forward slash/question mark key is acting up as well as the G key. I had to jab both of them hard to make them work then. And the fan’s loud. And it fucks up when it plays videos and audio, at least after it’s been on a while.

It’s an overheating problem, most likely. Partially solved by raising it off the desk to improve airflow.

What was I on about? Ah yes, saving money. It’s not going to happen and I’ll just use the funds to get really drunk. Yeah? Yeah.

BRING ME 100 SHOTS OF TEQUILA*.

*I watch How I Met Your Mother, what of it?

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