So yesterday  Helen face times me in a hot toot to sign some on line tax papers,  "Down load and print and sign them and i-phone picture them back to me ASAP so we don't go to jail," she says. Well, cheap ass that I am, I never bought a home  printer and call me psycho-paranoid but I'll be damned if I'm going to download all my financial info onto an unsecure clinic computer just to use the clinic printer. What to do? What we have here is your basic garden variety dilema: on the one hand risking finacial ruin at the hands of some pasty white, cheetos crumbed, stinky, bearded fat hacker dude living in the his mother's nasty dank basement in Moldova or back to jail again to share a 10 x 20 foot cell with, who would immediately become my new main man,  Leroy "Big Willie" Brown (dibs on the top bunk Willie)   But hold on..... I'm not your average idiot.  In fact, if my last blog is to believed, I am a shoe in for a Nobel Prize for MacGyver stuff.  So  I bring up the signature page on my lap top and with a felt tip pen sign on the computer screen over the signature box on the e-form.  Snap....Snap with my i-phone camera and  bada-bing bada-boom send the pics off to Helen.  Seriously folks sometimes I even amaze myself.  Now for a quick wipe of the screen with a damp cloth to remove the.......hmmmm..... Let me see that pen again ....."Alexa...What does indelible mean?" ....Oh.....  Hey, I bet some nail polish remover would work but shoot!~ I forgot, I'm a rough and tumble football watchen beer drinken beef eaten gas passen manly man who would  rather root for the Patriots to win the super bowl while jumping up and down doing the chearleader in close clap wearing butter cup yellow skin tight designer jeans than be caught with nail polish and ergo nail polish remover.  There must be something around here that would take off.....wait for it...wait for it.....does my epiphany light hurt your eyes?  I reach into the pantry and pull out the super special bottle of gin I bought down by Wanaka in a snooty little distillery right next to a 1/2 mile long bra fence (another story for another blog) So glug, glug, glug an ounce or so into a glass and dip dip in the glass with a paper and wipe wipe ....and I smugly sip the rest of the gin as I sit at my spotless computer and book my tickets to Stockholm