Somebody shoot the accountant please.

I have found that the word accountant is the most influential word in the world. When I tell somebody that I am an accountant I get the following responses:

- "That must be boring."
- "You must like math."
- "I hate the IRS."
- "You guys are the cause of Enron."
- "Can you do my taxes?"
- "Hey me too. Are you tax or audit?"

I am going to focus on the "Can you do my taxes?" response. I know everybody is thinking that I should pay more attention to the other exciting response (insert laugh here), but I think you need to contain the excitement.

Can you do my taxes? Such a simple question, but one that has lead to the death of more than one person. My first response is a resounding "NO!". But then my greed kicks in and I say yes. You can always tell who understands what an accountant does. Most people just think they are glorified data entry clerks. We will call them class "D", as in "D"uh, "D"oh, or "D"umb. The other group understands that a lot of education and continuing education, along with dashing good looks, and a great personality are required to be a good accountant. We will call them class "B", as in "B"reliant.

Class "B" clients need no further introduction. They are the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Class "D" clients on the other hand are the reason that cereal boxes contain instructions on how to eat cereal or that match boxes have a warning that the contents may cause fires. In fact, I may start a business that sells dehydrated water to these clients and then all they would have to do is add water.

As an accountant, I am hired to take THEIR financial information and prepare it in a way that is both legal and in accordance with IRS regulations, but also in the most beneficial way for the client. Where the problem arises, is when I let the client know what the service costs. You need to understand that I let the client know before I begin work, exactly what their return will cost. What I find amazing is that all class "D" clients swear that I never told them it would cost so much. What I find really funny, is the confused and bewildered expression on their face after I show them an engagement letter with their signature, which states they understand that the preparation of their return will cost $xx. To this day, I am unaware of a single signature magically appearing.

Once we get past the shock that they really do owe me money, then we get to the really fun part. Let me start with those getting a refund. They get so excited. I am the greatest person in the world (until they get my bill, then I am a crook and cheat). The other group, those owing money are even more funny. Most have to sit down on until the shock wares off. Very few people expect to pay more money at tax time.

I had one client that was surprised that he owed money, even though he didn't pay a single dime in taxes all year. He was even more upset that I would charge him for the time I spent doing HIS return because I couldn't get him a refund.

The next phase is the negotiation phase. (Sounds like the phases of mourning a lost family member.) They try and get me to alter numbers or deduct made up expenses. First of all, does this sound even remotely legal? Second of all, since when was a vacation to Tahiti a medical expense? I am amazed with what people think can be deducted. Here is a list of things that people have wanted me to deduct.

- Vacation to Tahiti
- Hot Tub
- New Car
- Imaginary medical bills
- Imaginary Children
- Business losses for business that never existed
- Grocery expenses

You get the idea. All I have to say is find another word in the English language that can make people cry in happiness and sadness. Yes I like taxes and yes I am a dork, but without me, you ...

...Actually, without accountants, you probably wouldn't pay your taxes, which although illegal, means you would probably have more money.

futboldan (a.k.a The big Dorky Accountant)

Daddy needs his diaper changed.

To the embarrassment of most mothers, wives, girlfriends, or females in general, boys are proud of the potency of their internally produced methane. For millennia, women have been trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to eradicate the necessity of males to pass gas. Although they have not succeeded, they have, for the most part, turned it into an improper response to the belly rumble. Now days, you must "hold it in" until there is nobody around, thereby defeating the purpose of a really powerful display of flatual prowess. The only time that such a display is permissible in public, at least by most male's standards, is when you are with "the boys", in which case the general I.Q. totals to 10. (one for each guy, or two if you have a real brainer in the group).

Now that I have prefaced this story and the mood is set, I must let you know that my son is well on his way to becoming just like dad. As anybody who knows me can attest to, I have what most would call a "sensitive stomach". I myself call it hours of uncomfortable entertainment. I was walking to an accounting class one day and had a particularly entertaining tummy. Being the polite person that I am, I quickly glanced around to ascertain the whereabouts of any other lifeforms. Seeing none, I decided that it was time for a good personal laugh. Oh what a good time I had. What seemed like hours of heavenly bliss, really turned out to be a few beautiful seconds of auditory pleasure. That is until I heard the tittering giggles of an attractive junior behind me. Obviously I hadn't scanned the area thoroughly enough. Although I was a bit embarrassed, I new that if I just kept walking, I would never see this person again.

A couple hours later, with that moment of social destruction behind me, I walked into my advanced accounting coarse. As fate, karma, or sheer dumb luck would have it, who else would be in the class? None other than the attractive junior that had walked through my moment of indiscretion. Nothing more needs to be said. She laughed and pointed and I blanked out the rest of the day because of the emotional trauma I suffered when I realized it was her.

A second defining moment in my life occurred about an hour ago. Tannie, Austin and I were sitting down watching a movie and eating fast-food. Obviously, all the junk caused a little rumbly in my tumbly. After letting off a little of the internal pressure, Austin, at the direction of Tannie. proceeded to push up my shirt, pull back the wasteband of my pants and see if daddy needed his diaper changed.

Moral of the stories? Look both ways before passing gas and always have a spare diaper so that your son can change you in case of an accident.

futboldan (a.k.a. SBD)

I have a pain in my two-year old.

Austin is the coolest little boy in the world. What makes him so cool is his innocence and innate happiness. Obviously, with two years under his belt, he is becoming wise to the ways of the world. He has come to the understanding that because of his age, people tend to take advantage of him. For example, if he has a plate of cookies (meaning that there is a plate of cookies anywhere in the house, whether intended for him or not), people (mom and dad) are always trying to take one from him. To make sure that he doesn't have his snacks and treats stolen, he has decided that the best way to hide them is to put them ALL in his mouth as fast as he can. If mom and dad should happen to get one before they are all in his mouth, then he sets off the high pitched scream alarm of death. Of course there is only one way to turn it off and that is to put the cookie you stole in his mouth.



I have also come to the conclusion that we have a packrat in the family. Tannie and I don't really save a lot of knick-knacks. Austin on the other hand, can remmeber exactly what he owns and where he last put it. I accidentally threw a football of his on the roof the other day, which Austin saw me do. After the initial trauma, I thought that he had forgotten the ball was up there. I was most assuredly wrong. Everytime we go outside, he looks up to the roof and calls for the ball. (It has yet to come down when he calls.)

What makes Austin the coolest kid is not the entertainment he provides, but the way he makes you feel. Allit takes is a lttle huck (hug in Austineese) or kiss and his yelling your name in excitement. Nothing feels better than the pure love of a son or daughter.

futboldan (aka Dan Smith)

Have you met my blog?

This has got to be one of the coolest ideas ever. Not only can I bore people with the retelling of my life's stories, but now I can write them down and save them forever. Yippee!

Tannie, my wife, has got to be the coolest person in the world! Yes, the entire world! Not only is she a hotty, translated as babe, but she is also the most patient person I know. How many people could marry an Accountant (my profession) that used to be an artist and not go crazy. In other words, she has to put up with a messy, detail oriented person. Not only do I make a mess, but I make sure that every detail is messy.

I love my wife very much. She really is the love of my life. We met in high school and have been best friends ever since. I guess you could say we are "bff," but then I would have to call you gay and say that you sounded like a 13 year-old girl. So let's just say we are and always will be best friends.

Besides being my best friend and the source of my happiness, Tannie makes a great lover. Everybody but Tannie should plug there ears now, because this is only for Tannie to hear. ........-...................................----------.....................................--------------------------................ (that is what it sounds like with your ears plugged).

Tannie is also the worlds number one mom. Most women today find it degrading or demeaning to be a stay at home mom. Tannie has chosen to be one. I have always let her make the decision as to whether she stays at home with the kids, or goes to work. Becuase of her selfless nature and almost always putting the family before herself, Austin (our two-year old) and Logan (our unborn) have a mom that is dedicated to raising them according to our beliefs.

I wanted the world to have access to a brief introduction to what makes my life wonderful. Here it is. It isn't detailed or overly verbose, and there will be more details as I begin to put to words my thoughts and feelings, but I hope that all who read it can see that without Tannie, I would just be another misguided and unhappy soul. Thank you, Tannie, for helping me take the beginning steps to becoming the man I am supposed to be. I love you.

Futboldan (aka Dan Smith)