High point of my day yesterday: an amazingly yummy lunch at The Frontier Room on 1^st Ave. I used to go drinking there (back when that seemed like fun to me) when it was the old Frontier Room, for you Seattle folks who remember that delightfully trashy dive. It was a little odd to walk in the door and smell the enticing aroma of smoked meat, as opposed to stale spilled booze and cigarettes. But for Yankee barbeque, the pulled-pork sandwich was pretty dang good.

Low point of my day yesterday: an appointment with my tax preparer. Oh, it’s not going to be pretty, boys and girls. For the next few weeks, the Federal Government is going to be my pimp. I am so Uncle Sam’s bitch until I write that check on April 14th. Ouch.

How fitting, then, that I get to have a little fun at the Fed's expense in this week’s column.

See you at the Bondage Class and Party!