Should toothpaste made in India necessarily have a weird aftertaste? I found out that the annual refund I've grown so accustomed to in late spring shall not be entering my bank account this year. I actually owe money on my taxes. My father the accountant says I made more money last year and had less money withheld and thus: no refund for me.

I had a plan for that money. I was going to pay off half a credit card, get a haircut and treat myself to a new pair of pants. You know, your basic stuff that you have to budget for when you live in New York and you're, in a word, ass-broke.

Consequently, with my new-found knowledge, I made my way to the 99 cent store on 23rd street, something I often did when I was studying acting on 16th street. A man was talking to a pair of socks. I sincerely hoped he was on one of those scary new phones that clip onto your ear. Alas, he was not. He was very angry with these socks.

"Did me wrong, last time, you did," he said gruffly, shaking one shriveled fist in the air.

I bought Choice toothpaste. It looked much like Crest, about 15 years ago. Came with a free toothbrush. But now my mouth tastes like the inside of a 99 cent store.