Nun shakes birthday booty.

Saturday night: Cheezy Harry Potter-themed '90s ravey thing at the Blue Moon in the U district. It had been about 28 years since the last time I was in there. I'd forgotten how small and pinko it is: lefty stickers and posters are all over the wall and the ceiling, some of them possibly dating back to the '70s.

The promoters covered the pool table with paper and provided crayons and the makings for candy bracelets. I made one for myself that says "I AM OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR MOM". One of the DJs, Alice Blue, bounced adorably to her set at one hundred eighty beats per minute in a schoolgirl costume. She turns out to be trans. I asked her, "True or false: all the kids are enby furries."
"True," she said.

Getting home via mass transit was a long, slow bummer after 0030 as I don't think it should be from there, but get home without incident I did.

Sunday afternoon: circumflatulation frustration. Sleep.

Sunday evening: Eetz with J & R, followed by the inaugural Babe House night at the Timbre room. This night is by & for queer and trans people of color. I must say, the tunes and the vibe were right on, moving from old school to new as the evening progressed. I got my social on with random people, which you know I love to do. Sooner or later I hope to bring the Tickler or Funny Lady.

ETA: I did get to see the lunar eclipse, framed by the giant new buildings that surround the 1100 block of Howell. My son had called me while I was on the bus to remind me that it was happening. Aw!

SFDs:

• Fluevog Truths Teah
• The short, white velveteen skirt that I got from cupcake_goth at the most recent big Goth yard sale.
• The short-sleeve black velvet top that I've had forever.
• The necklace made of welded horseshoe nails that always gets lots of comments.

tax shenanigans

We interrupt your frivolity to talk about federal income taxes. Part of the recent Republican tax scam made it illegal to deduct alimony payments, but only if you finalized your divorce in 2018 or later. Mine was final at the end of 2015.

So I'm sitting pretty, you say. Not so fast: there's no longer a blank on any US tax form for alimony. The instructions are a little scattered and hand-wavy. As near as I can tell, I just deduct it, and write... somewhere on my 1040 - which now features a lot of white space, conveniently - that I paid this much alimony to SSN number blah.

The fuck? That's a lot of money to me, if you'll recall. Between tax chaos and the shutdown, Republican pobuckers are making a shambolic attempt to screw me. If they try to drag me into court, I will fight. I guess I better screen shot the IRS site every which way.

To put it in perspective, though, I have friends who've taken a much more serious hit because of the shutdown.

another gem from the Wendling

I've been trying to get my son to use a flat sheet for years. I did so again a few minutes ago.

SistaWendy: Why don't you use a flat sheet? It'll keep your blankets from getting dirty.
Wendling: OK.
SW: [fetches flat sheet and puts it on the Wendling's bed]
W: I think it's weird that people sleep under it instead of on top of it.
SW: If you sleep under it, then it can't keep your blankets clean.
W: But if I sleep under it, I can't feel the blankets.
SW: ARGH!

Folks, I think what we have here is the classic Asperger's autistic spectrum sensory issues combined with inflexibility. The bottom line is that my son tends to get blankets filthy with his boy grime. Oh, and did I mention that he will avoid using my shower because of the high water pressure and fine adjustment needed with two knobs. (The shower, like the rest of the building, dates from the '50s.)