Ida the tax lady has been sitting across from me mumbling to herself for about forty minutes. Those turbo tax programs sound so good at about this moment every year. But hey, Ida needs a job. That Avon jewelry isn't going to pay for itself.
Go, economy, go.
I am a little afraid that I'm becoming a terrible person.
and now she wants to talk about her hair and her fat face.
True.
And no, Ida, for the twentieth time, I don't want a soda. Can't you see I feel bloated?
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