fear (for real)
Jason posted on April 16th, 2008
Tom from Port Jefferson, NY wrote me yesterday and said, "You haven’t posted in so long that I just scoured the obituaries fully expecting to find your name in there."Tom, thank you for your concern, but I’m happy to report I’m alive. Probably more alive than ever, actually (that’s not exactly true, but I’ve always wanted to say something like that). You see, not only have I been buried at work lately, but I had been preparing and then was engaged in the most perilous battle of my life to this point: Jason Mulgrew vs. The IRS.
[cue dum-dum-dummmmm music]
Here is the problem: I’m terrible with money. Absolutely, balls-ass terrible. Not only do I generally have no idea of how much is in my bank account (prior to last week, I couldn’t tell you if I had $50, $500 or $5000 in there), but I simply can not spend money fast enough, spending it like it’s on fire. And did I mention that I love food, I love drinking, I love traveling, I love gambling and I love impressing women in the hopes that, c’mon, just a little, just a little bit o’ boobie? All of this does not add up to financial responsibility (or, sadly, even a tiny bit of boobies).
Here’s the other part of the problem: in 2007, I got the remaining chunk of my ol’ book advance paid out to me after my ol’ imprint went away. The thing about getting a book advance is that it’s not taxed. Therefore, if you’re due $100,000, you get a check for $100,000 cold cash (note: I did not get this much - and you know I’m not lying, because if I did get that much, I would have been dead about six months ago). I guess that publishers assume that writers, who are supposed to be reasonably intelligent, have the foresight to put a portion of their book advance away for taxes. Um, whoops (see "I love…" sentence above).
I knew that my come-uppance would, um, come eventually, and from talking to various friends and people who are much better about money than me, I knew my only chance of not going to debtor’s prison would be to deduct as much as possible. For example, I also worked and got paid TV money from a network in California in 2007, and each time I went out there I was either working on the old show or trying to bust out a new one. Therefore, flights to and from LA, rental cars, even some meals, could all be written off. This, I liked.
Long story short, since the beginning of last week, I’ve downloaded and poured over every bank and credit card statement of mine from 2007, as well as every cable, telephone and utility bill. I spent hours every night going through these line-by-line, creating various Excel spreadsheets for my expenses, attacking this endeavor with a passion for research and statistics reserved usually only for fantasy baseball.
During this time, I learned a lot of terrible, terrible things about myself. For example, from the fall of 2006 until last week, my credit card company was charging me $40 a month for some credit protection thingee. I had no idea about this, since I haven’t opened a credit card statement since about 2005 (I have recurring payments set up online, and when I paid large chunks off, I’d do so online as well). So it was nice to flush $40 down the drain every month. Also, my cell phone bill was about $150 a month for the past two years. I changed it to a different plan - for $80 a month - because I wasn’t coming close to using all my minutes. Just between those two, that’s $100+ a month I was throwing down the goddamn toilet. I actually feel physically ill while writing this.
(You want a dose of reality and/or want to despise yourself for a few weeks? Take a random bank statement and add up how much you pay in dinners and bar tabs in an average month. Good lord. I think that if I didn’t go out to eat or go to bars for three months, I would not only solve world hunger, but global warming and autism would also be taken care of.)
After a week of preparation, I spent over three hours this Saturday, badly hungover, sitting in a dingy H&R Block office by Wall Street going over stacks of paper. I even brought my laptop, so that my "Master Expenses" spreadsheet would be more user-friendly. The accountant who helped me, bless her heart, was extremely patient, answering all my questions and putting up with my various neuroses and red bull-champagne breath (the previous night, I was out of vodka and so drank several red bull and champagnes - the only alcohol I had besides beer and white wine - while pregaming, and they were delicious and effective). After these three hours were over, we were still not finished - I had to return yesterday, the tax deadline, to finalize a number of things (I did, however, return to my apartment on Saturday and take a four hour nap, which was one of my all-time greatest).
But I’m happy to report that, even though I feared I would owe at least a few G’s and possibly double-digit G’s, I owe nothing. Yes, nothing. Between federal, New York and California taxes, I essentially broke even. Praise the Lord Jesus Christ. I can’t explain it. I don’t want to be able to. But I owe nothing. Even steven. Wow.
So as I write this on Wednesday, April 16th, the day after tax day, I am alternatively elated and broken. Elated because I managed to pull of a miracle and do not have to start sucking dick for cheeseburgers/my IRS fund (sorry, re-start). Broken because I learned what a wasteful moron I am and spent over a week under an incredible amount of stress, concerned that I was seriously going to prison or would have to fake my own death. Also, I’m probably going to get audited next year, which is really going to suck. So maybe I shouldn’t throw away all those "Insurance Fraud: Is It For You?" and "How To Disappear In Central America" manuals I bought.
(On top of that, I’m sick with a legit head cold and would have called out of work today if I wasn’t so busy. Also, my dad and my brother are coming up to NYC tonight for steak dinner. So I’m not out of the woods yet.)
But I’m alive, I’m whole, and I’m not going to jail or declaring bankruptcy. I plan on spending the next few days getting back to my normal, not-too-stressful life, and spending the next few weeks and months being a little more mindful of my spending - and even, perhaps, opening a credit card statement once in a while. I have a new lease on life, and I have to take advantage of it.
(Translation: All-inclusive trip to the Caribbean. And maybe a couple of baseball wagers. And a few balled up $20 bills thrown into the East River. Why not?)