E-nough

I really wish Joe Biden would stop emailing me. 

Not just him, either. I'm tired of getting emails from Barack. And Michelle. And Bill Clinton. And even -- no, I can't believe I am saying this -- Beyonce. I want them all to stop with the emails. 

First of all, they really shouldn't be concerned about my vote. If I could have "bleeding heart liberal" tattooed somewhere on my person without using ouchy needles to do it, I would. There is no way I am voting for Mitt Romney. He could fly through the air on a golden unicorn, tossing down hundred dollar bills and birth control, then land and perform a same-sex wedding ceremony, and I still would wouldn't vote for him. If President Obama is one hundred percent sure of one vote this year, it's mine. He doesn't need to keep sending me little "Hey" messages to remind me he's running. 

Okay, so the emails are probably about money. The campaign needs it. I get it. What I don't get? A large paycheck. If I did, I would probably be voting for unicorn boy (no, I wouldn't). I am a local news producer, married to an educator, trying to put a kid through an independent school. The fact we gave anything at all shows just how devoted we are to this campaign. 

Also, I have to say the emails kind of insult my intelligence. Do they really think I believe the President, or even Biden for that matter, was sitting at his desk, worried about the campaign and thought "I know who can help! Libby! I mean, her blog alone reaches tens of people on a yearly basis! She will save the day!" 

I don't. Oh, and I've read all the articles about how using my name in the email will supposedly make me more likely to read it. I guess they haven't read the ones about how everyone knows about cut and paste. 

I think it would be even worse for the President if I actually did believe he and his high powered political friends are sitting around sending these emails out. They're supposed to be running a campaign and the country but they have time to email me? Even the ridiculously stupid version of me would see that's a bad use of time. 

I am glad to see though that the Obama campaign isn't the only one abusing the power of email though. According to Politico Romney is spamming the people who, like me, thought supporting their candidate meant handing over an email address. I can only imagine what's in those emails -- and it's definitely not money and free birth control. 

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Naming the Mess

Our backyard was a big reason we bought our house. 

It was so pretty. 

It was lush, which is rare in Utah. It had a little stream, that ran into a little pond, filled with little fish. A large oak shaded the lovely deck, and held up one end of a hammock. There was a garden, and fruit trees, and vine covered fences. It was so perfect I wouldn't have been surprised to see a large eyed baby deer frolicking in the backyard with his woodland friends. 

Then it all went to shit. 

The oak tree dropped two huge limbs, and had to be taken out due to a bore larger than my hips in the middle of it. Yes, it was that big. With the tree went the hammock, and any shade we had on our deck. Sitting outside became almost as comfortable as sitting in the oven. 

It turned out our little pond, and little stream are fed by little springs, which turned our yard into a big swamp once the water table shifted. After year two the back third of our yard was completely unusable, except for the vines, which sucked it up like blood and grew to Audrey 2 proportions. I suggested we bow them all up, but Ryan went out and tore them out before they could conquer the earth. 

By year three, I never looked outside. I mean, unless I wanted to get really, really depressed. 

Last year, though, we decided enough was enough. I, again,  suggested dynamite, but Ryan went with a series of drains that push the water into cisterns and then the storm drain. We took out the pond completely (after all we have a toddler) and now are looking at the final steps of landscaping. Again, I suggested dynamite, but by now that' just become habit. Ryan is thinking sod and a rock garden. 

Of course, none of this has, or will, come cheap. And that has depressed me even more. So far we have already spent several thousand dollars, and that's just to get it to this: 

You're probably depressed now too. 

Don't worry, though, I have something to cheer you up: I have figured out how to pay for it. 

Two words: naming rights. 

Yep, that's right. I figure there are lots of rich people who like to see their names on things, and at just ten thousand dollars this will be a bargain. I will even pay for the little plaque, and promise to shine it every day. Ryan assures me the whole "naming rights" thing doesn't work like this, but he got his way on the dynamite/reasonable solution argument, so I figure it's my turn. 

Hey, if we manage to get a new tree I will throw in the naming rights for that too. What a bargain. 

Maybe naming rights will even pay the house off. I bet Meg wouldn't mind changing her name to "Citibank Comcast." It's kind of catchy. 

I knew there was a happy ending in there somewhere... 

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Money, Money, Money

I am trying to come up with ways to make money. Other than with my job, that is, for which I am probably vastly overpaid, and yet feels like it doesn't pay nearly enough. I'm talking about some magic bullet money making scheme that will solve all of our financial worries, and make it so we don't have think twice when making non-insane purchases.


So far? I got nothing.


Well, maybe not totally nothing. Today while I was thinking about how to make more money I decided to "brainstorm" and write down ideas. I came up with:

1. Be a personal speech writer for people who have to speak at weddings and other events. 
2. Show people my boobs for money. 
3. Offer to teach people how to make extra money, then sell them those ideas. Tell them no refunds. 

Yeah, sorry, I was wrong. I got nothing. 

Did you know the woman who invented Spanx is now a billionaire? And all it took was making too tight panty hose. I'm sure there were a couple other steps in there -- marketing, business plan, blah, blah, blah -- but I like to think she made her super girdle, held it aloft and the money just came pouring down on her head. That makes it feel more like something that could happen to me. 

Okay, right now, impromptu brainstorming session. What are things people need, but cannot buy? AND GO!

1. Bathtub shorteners for people who like to lie down in the bath and not drown, but are too short to touch both ends. 
2. Armpit patches for people who don't want to shave but don't want to look like hippies. 
3. Something that makes everyone skinny and doesn't cost much, and is totally organic -- like magic. 

Shit, now I'm back to charging people to look at my boobs. 

I do have nice boobs though...

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Wallet Woes

I am considering having my wallet surgically implanted in my arm. I think it's the only way I can guarantee I have it when I need it. You know, like when I need to pay for something.

I never used to have a problem remembering my wallet. It was always in my purse, right where I needed it. However, with a toddler, the number of things I have in my purse has grown, and the frequency of my taking those things in and out has increased, meaning that sometimes something gets left behind. When it's my sunglasses? No problem. Tic Tacs? Still not a problem, as long as we can avoid tantrums. The wallet though, that's a problem.

You would think that after the first, or fifth time getting up to the cash register and realizing I have no way to pay I would just get in the habit of making sure my wallet is in my purse before I leave the house or enter a store. Or, maybe the fact that on several occasions it has lead to me technically shoplifting because I leave the store with Meg eating a treat we haven't yet paid for would do it instead. Yeah, I would think that too. Apparently though, I like lugging a toddler in and out of stores, wasting time rerunning errands too much, and risking being the target of dicky store security to start giving myself little reminders.

Luckily, it appears I am not the only idiot in the world. Pretty much every time I have forgotten my wallet the clerk has just put my stuff aside, and then continued the transaction when I return. Either that, or I am the only idiot in the world, and they take pity on me because I look so pathetic.

They won't pity me though once I have my awesome arm wallet though...

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Beaten into Submission

Utah's newest Senator has a way to fix the deficit, save social security, and not make the richest one percent of Americans pay more in taxes. Yep, instead of taking from the rich to help the poor (that is really so un-Ayn Rand) he wants to make the poor work longer, and get less when they retire. He is absolutely sure it will work. Why? Because the younger generations don't expect that much from their government.

You think I'm kidding, don't you? I'm not.

Senator Mike Lee had joined with two other Tea Party "activists" to put forward a plan that would raise the retirement age to 70, and reduce the benefits anyone would receive once they reached that age. Now, to his credit, the people who make the most would receive a lot less than those who make the least, but he admits that's because those who make the most probably won't need social security anyway, and will be able to retire long before 70.

So, that shouldn't be so bad, right? I mean, 40 is the new 15, and everyone lives to at least 90 now! Oh, yeah, except the poor. The people who will have to work the longest will live the shortest after they retire. In fact, as their social security benefits have decreased over the past three decades -- so have their life spans.

Wait! Dead people don't need social security! Ca-ching!

Of course, not everyone will die, that would make things too easy. Luckily, the people this plan really sticks it to is the middle class. You know, the people who might make more than 43-thousand dollars a year for at least one year in their working career. Those people will still be paying the highest percentage of their income to social security, and seeing the lowest returns for those payments.

I guess I could consider this Senator Lee's plan to spur me to make more. After all, if I do that, I won't have to worry about this silly "social security" nonsense.

Or I could just expect less. After all, it's what all the cool young kids are doing. And it is MUCH easier than expecting my government to work for me...

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Nope

Well, damn.

We didn't win the lottery. Didn't even come close. Couldn't even fake it by turning 6s into 8s or 7 into 9s. Out lottery ticket may as well have been in Chinese -- and then the numbers still wouldn't have matched.

I guess we're better off not winning the lottery. First of all, I bet our bank would have charged us a huge fee to cash the giant novelty check. Then we would have had to deal with all those people asking for money: widows, orphans, widowed orphans. I wouldn't know how to determine who was worthy and who wasn't. I would end up just throwing any group with "monkey" in their name. And we all know Peter Tork is already rich enough.

Meg probably wouldn't be a very good rich kid, anyway. Horses scare her, and I don't think caviar would be well received. She does love tuna fish though, and mutt dogs, and hand me down clothes. And watching her enjoy all of those things, and grow, and laugh, and talk, is better than anything money can buy.

Still, it would be nice to offer her the option of caviar. Just to then decide to slum it with tuna -- just for fun.

Damn.

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My Destiny

I don't want to upset any of you, but after Wednesday, you'll probably never hear from me again.

Don't worry, I won't be jumping off a bridge, or checking into a mental institution, although I have thought of doing both in the past month. No, you won't be hearing from me because I will simply be too rich to blog any more. That's right, I'm winning the lottery.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Libby, Utah doesn't have a lottery." Well, duh. We also don't have anywhere you can buy cold white wine on a Sunday. This weekend though, I went to a wonderful place where anything is possible: Idaho. And that's where I bought a shit load of cold wine, and solidified my future with the pick of just six little numbers.

Some of you might be chuckling, saying "oh, that Libby," thinking I'm just being "whimsical," and "funny." No. I am dead serious. I am planning on winning the lottery on Wednesday. Every time I pass that ticket hanging on the fridge I count down the hours until our lives totally change. Until we can pay off our student loans. Until we can hire a good contractor to fix the swamp in our backyard. Until we will never have to worry about sending Meg to college. Until I can hire Jillian Michaels to be my friend, and then fire her because she embarrasses me in public.

I would love to keep blogging after I win, really I would, but I think things would just be weird between us then. Not because of the money, I know none of you care if I am rich or poor; but because I plan to get snooty. I mean, really, really snooty. I plan to decant my box wine before I drink it -- that's how snooty I'll be. And I doubt any of you will really want to read about that and how my butler left schmutz all over my sock garters.

I will miss all of you though, after I've won the lottery on Wednesday.





Yeah. See you Thursday.

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One Dollar

Most people who work in television had some sort of ADHD. Even if they have never been diagnosed, even if they won't admit it, no one in my field has a very long attention span. We are built to pay attention to the moment, and to get news on the air as fast, and as accurately as possible; and then forget about it. When we are forced to dig for news, or to sit around and wait for news, when things are "low key," it is very easy for us to lose focus. It is very easy for us to be distracted by the ridiculous.

Right now, the ridiculous is all about the one dollar bet.

In the past month a co-worker has worn safety goggles that were left sitting around for an entire day to earn one dollar. Another has forgone shoes and hoped they would get to claim their prize without having to take a trip to HR first. A third put Mentos and Diet Coke in their mouth to see how big their cheeks would get. And then, there is Cody, who earned his money by eating the most disgusting cupcake ever to enter the newsroom -- all in one bite.

You know food is not good when it comes into the newsroom and two hours later is all but uneaten. I have seen co-workers almost shiv each other when pizza has been brought in, and chips left over from someone's weekend part -- on a Wednesday. These cupcakes, though, were inedible. I don't know where these cupcakes had come from, but even the most desperate of us wouldn't touch them. They looked like chocolate with white icing but, as one person who took a chance said. "that is definitely NOT chocolate." Cody tried to eat one, and spit it out immediately.

And then I offered him a dollar.

Worth every penny. Now though, I think the limits of the dollar bet may have been reached. I mean, a man almost choked to death on a paste flavored cupcake. How are we going to find someone to top that, for just a measly dollar?

Next up: five dollars. It will be epic.

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Gimme Five Dollas

The ingenuity and idiocy of the Internet never cease to amaze me. I am so amazed, in fact, I have invented a new word to describe what I see: idinuity. Basically I plan to use it every time I see an Internet sensation that is either ridiculous or totally useless, and that I really wish I had thought of, because it would have made me a millionaire and/or gotten me a book deal. For instance: the website "This is Why You're Fat." The world doesn't need it, and it is nothing but a tumblr blog of gross food pictures submitted by readers. Still, it landed the authors (editors?) a six figure book deal. They are absolutely the kings of the idinuits. Wait, they might actually be the princes. The guy who got a television development deal from his Twitter stream is the the king. Or maybe the guy who invented LOL Cats.

The latest discovery in the world of idinuic web ideas is Fiverr. This site qualifies because it is not only making it's owners money, but also making money for thousands of people who have no discernibly talent in the real world. Here people can post ads for what they are willing to do for five dollars. The possibilities range from the mundane to the sublime. Most have to do with Twittering website recommendations, writing jokes or stories, or designing websites. One person offers to "eat your soul." Another offers to send a picture of her cat that is in need of an operation. I haven't seen any offers for naked pictures, but it's still a relatively young site. They haven't figured out yet that the Internet is for porn.

I am still trying to decide if I should offer my services on Fiverr. Most of all, because I am not sure of the services I could offer. Other than sarcasm, news writing, and talking myself and others out of sobriety and/or exercise are really my only skills I think anyone would be interested in. Maybe I could be a "Private Dancer" taping myself so others can feel better about their dancing abilities. I know Kate Gosselin would sign up. Or maybe I could offer to listen to cat/baby/work stories and feign interest. Wait, Kurt has that market cornered.

I've got it!For five dollars I will tell them about my new word to describe all Internet phenomenon.

Shit, I just gave it away for free... I am so not an idinuit.

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No One Gets My Books

Writing a will is nearly as exciting as I thought it would be.

When I was a kid I would look around my room and decide who would get what if I unexpectedly croaked. Once or twice I even wrote a cursory list in my journal. I would picture my friends and loved ones going through my things, crying with grief and joy when they learned they had been bequeathed my favorite Depeche Mode poster, or learned in my absence they would be kept company by my pet newts. I could see my sister roiling with jealousy when she learned she got none of my cassette tapes. Yeah, I was a morbid little shit, and vindictive too.

Once I got older I didn't really think about my will. I figured I didn't have anything anyone wanted, and as long as my Mother didn't clean out my apartment, or have to go through my bank statements (I had a little credit card debt), all would be well. I actually remember one night when I almost got hit by a car thinking "oh, man, thank God I didn't die owing American Express. Mom would be pissed."

Now, I actually have a will. Ryan and I decided to get one after Meg was born. And that's pretty much what it is: getting a will. We didn't have to sit down and discuss anything, or make lists of our possessions, or decide who to leave out so that our wrath can be felt from beyond the grave.

There was no writing of heartfelt tributes, or giving of explanation as to why Tara gets one, but not both of my monkey earrings.

No making someone spend the night in our basement where the ghost lives in order to get our silverware.

All we had to do was call our friend Ben, and ask him to draw up a will. He did -- a basic whoever dies first leaves everything to the other, and once we're both gone Meg gets it all. We have to pick a trustee, sign some papers, make sure Ben didn't put in any clauses about the Pittsburgh Steelers, and then it will all be done. Nice and legal. And boring.

I guess this is the best thing. I mean, after all, we're adults, and the most important thing is making sure our daughter is taken care of in the long run. We're really lucky we have a friend who is a fantastic lawyer who is helping us do that. And it's not like any of our friends or family are really going to be wishing we had left them the "Devil Baby" artwork instead of Meg. Still, it makes me yearn for the excitement I pictured in a will when I was young, and stupid.

Maybe I'll write a secret will and hide it somewhere. Then I'll leave a series of cunning clues as to where it is...

Oh, that would piss Ryan off so much. Piss him off from beyond the grave.

I think the first clue should have something to do with llamas.

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Good Ideas for 2010

I think we can all concur that New Year's resolutions are bullshit. Losing weight, exercising more, stopping drinking, going organic, not shooting heroin between our toes, it all is just so impossible and depressing. I mean, I don't have a problem with setting goals, I just have a problem with the definitiveness of it. I mean, can't we just want to make changes without laying out finish lines? Or even just investigate things we would like to try? I think that's the best I idea, and so, I give you the five things I will be considering in 2010.

1. POSITIVITY I no longer have to fear getting soft, because Meg has already done that for me. Really, I never go to the park just to punch ducks, and I don't miss it at all. So, I am thinking of taking it to the next step. I am going to investigate possibly, maybe, actively being positive and happy. It's going to be weird. After all, suffering from depression I have gotten used feeling best when I am at my lowest. I mean, I know it can't get worse. This year though, I am going to try and reach for the heights, and feel my best. There is a website -- happier.com -- that claims to help, but I think I would be happier keeping the five dollar monthly fee.

2. STICKING IT TO THE MAN I think all of us are pretty pissed at the big banks after the bailouts of the past year, and would love to feel like we are no longer their bitch. Oh, and I have my own personal reasons too. So, this year I am going not just consider, but actually start changing my bank accounts over from one of the giants, to a local bank. I know it will not happen all at once, because I have multiple instant withdrawals I need to figure out so I don't have to endure even more fees. I hope by mid-March though I should be able to say good-bye, and man it will feel good. This is the only definitive thing I want to do.

3. CARING LESS ABOUT AGING 2009 is the first year I have really noticed changes in my face. My eyelids aren't as pert as they used to be. I feel like I have a little sagging around my jaw. I see brown spots where there weren't brown spots before. Oh, and I still have zits. Over the past months I have tried countless creams and potions, spending way too much money on products that are all pretty much the same. I think the answer my be to moisturize, use sunscreen, and learn to like the changes. Or if not like, not let them drive me crazy.

4. NOT SPENDING MONEY I would like to be financially solvent by the time I am 40. In my mind that means no credit card debt, a savings account, and a college fund for Meg. I have already made changes to help me achieve that goal, but I am always looking for new ideas. I can't remember which blogger came up with this (if it was you, let me know), but there is someone trying to not spend any money during January. No, they aren't becoming freegans, they are just cutting out the "gimmes." You know, like a spending detox. I know how I have done with other types of detoxing, but maybe I could just cut back, and you know, not buy anything green.

5. CIVILITY Every year people ask me if I am going to try and be nicer. Every year I flip them off. This year though, I am thinking about it, mainly because it seems like everyone has gotten nastier, and I am no longer special. So, I am thinking of taking the civility pledge. Maybe if I do it Sean Hannity will too. Of course, my taking it wouldn't mean the end of my career.

Oh, and in 2010 I might consider not writing extremely long pontificating blog posts, and instead stick with rants about Tiger Woods' penis...

HAPPY 2010!

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Hustled

Warning: This is a rant about my anger at a bank. Read at your own risk.

Recently, my husband and I were taken for 465 dollars. No, we weren't taken in a confidence scheme by a man with a mysterious scar named Lefty. We didn't buy a share in a hot new resort being built in Haiti. We didn't invest money with a man promising big returns named Vernie Manoff. Instead, we were swindled by our mortgage lender, who is probably your mortgage lender too: Citimortgage.

It started in August. Ryan and I were thinking about the future and how we could start saving. We had just adopted Meg, and wanted to start thinking not just like adults, but parents. When the letter from Citi arrived, offering us a lower rate if we would take on a 20 year mortgage, for just a slightly higher monthly payment, we thought it was a sign. We jumped at the chance. After all, how could we lose? The letter called us "good long standing customers." It was like getting a financial hug.

I called the number. I talked to Kimberly. She applauded our responsible decision and congratulated us on the baby. She told me there would be a $465 application fee, but that it was "no big deal" because when the refinancing was finalized we would skip a month of payments. It would all be even Steven. We signed the papers, we paid the money, and we waited.

And nothing happened. Really, the silence was deafening.

Finally, at the start of this month, I got a call from a new loan officer, Vanessa. Everything was fine, she said, the underwriter was just finishing up. Then, she disappeared. Oh, she was virtually there, with an email account and a phone number where we could leave messages that were never returned, and a fax line that was always busy, but we couldn't actually communicate with her.

Today I called, and, instead of leaving a message, pressed "0" to talk to another agent. It was then I was told the refinance had been rejected, earlier this month actually, and that the application fee, you know, the one that was "no big deal" was non-refundable. I argued with the woman, and then I asked to speak to her supervisor and argued with him. I asked why we hadn't heard from them. He told me a letter had been sent out, and that he had no idea why we hadn't gotten it. I was amazed he was using the "lost in the mail" excuse, but I regrouped. I told him we would good customers. I told him about my conversations with Kimberly (who he claimed no longer worked there), I told him we would take our mortgage elsewhere. He didn't care about any of it. All he seemed to care about is that Citi got to keep my $465.

I don't really know what to do now. I filed a complaint with the FTC, and will file one with the Better Business Bureau. I do not expect to get my money back, or to take my mortgage elsewhere. After all, if my own lender does this to me what will happen elsewhere? Also, I kind have had all the fight knocked out of me. I guess that's what they were counting on.

Still, it would have been better if my loan officer had been named Lefty. At least it would have been a better story to tell.

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Sally Takes a Stand

We knew Sally wasn't thrilled about the baby. We had watched as she tried to ignore Meg's presence, and moved away as if burned by acid whenever the baby just happened to be placed in close proximity to her. However, we assumed that since she hadn't really been acting out, that Sally was just adjusting, and that soon all would be right with the world.

Well, the acting out has begun.

At first it was barking. Sally has never been a particularly vocal dog, but since Meg came home she has been barking at everything. The mailman. The yappy dog next door. Any visitors. The cats. Ryan. If something moves, she now barks at it. We are working on shushing her, but so far that is not working.

Next, she started being a jerk on walks. Before this time, Sally was the best dog to take on walks ever. She would walk without a leash and stay with us, or, if she had to be on a leash, not strain or pull. Those days are over. Now, if she is off the leash, she is off the leash. That mans she runs ahead, and back, and into the street. I can't decide if she is trying to run away or just trying to end it all. Since her new behavior means she is on the leash a lot more, we have also noticed that when she doesn't want to walk, due to laziness or a delicious smelling patch of grass, she will practically pull her head off trying to get out of the collar. We may have to get a halter collar just so we can walk her without risking doggy asphyxia.

As bad as the barking and the walking are though, we figured we were getting off easy. After all, Sally's current bad behaviors were nothing compared to those of the past. Or so we thought. When we came home the other night we found this...
That is my Blackberry. Or at least what is left of it. Don't you love how she very carefully peeled off the protective skin to make sure she got to the electronics? I sure do. I also loved how she had hidden the pieces that had come off by stuffing them down between the couch cushions. How thoughtful. Believe it or not, everything on it still works. It's just not as pretty and has more sharp edges than it used to.

When I found my Blackberry I instantly assumed that more damaged had to have been wrought, and went straight to our bedroom where I had left out Meg's activity mat and several toys. None of them were touched. Not even the little bug that emits a squeaking noise that makes Sally salivate. And then I got it. Of course Sally isn't going to eat the baby's stuff, because her problem isn't with the baby. It's with us.

It was hard to be mad at her after that. I mean, I was, and I still am, but I understand. We have treated her like the baby, and now that we have a baby we are expecting her to roll over and play dog. That's not fair. I think we need to work on better family integration. For instance, last night we made sure to pay attention to Sally while Meg was with us, to show her she is not always in second place. It may sound silly, like we are crazy dog people, but it's important that every person and thing living here is comfortable. Otherwise they act out, and that makes everyone unhappy.

Also, we can't afford any more new phones.

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Save A Fashion Victim

The economy is bad. We all know it. Oh, and you if don't know it, this must be the only thing you read on the Internet. While I appreciate your loyalty, I think you should branch out. Really though, things are not looking good on the financial front, and the retail sector is being extremely hard hit. In fact, according to the website 24/7 Wall Street more than a dozen well known companies could be out of business by the end of 2010. Now, normally I wouldn't care, I hate shopping and I enjoy watching people fail, but this time I am very concerned. You see, I could soon have to go naked -- all the time.

I, like most midgets, find it extremely hard to find clothing that fits me, that I like, and that doesn't make me look like a lesbian circus clown. After years and years of trying out different looks, dabbling in skirts, dresses, pants and, for one awful moment, jumpers, I found my perfect mix -- jeans and v-neck t-shirts. Yes, I know it sounds boring, but you would be amazed at how I can vary it, and make it seem like I am not wearing the exact same thing day after day. Different colors, different materials, slightly different styles, I use all of these to fool those around me, and make it appear like I have some sense of style. There are only two variables that never change: the jeans are from Old Navy, and the shirts are from Eddie Bauer. And both of those companies are on the list of companies most likely to fail.

Oh, and as if it weren't bad enough that my pants and shirts soon won't be available, 24/7 Wall Street says I won't even have shoes to wear! Yep, Crocs is expected to go out of business as well. I'm sure that will bring great joy to all of the fashionistas, and my sisters, but for me, a person with flat feet who is caused pain by every other pair of shoes I own, it's a tragedy. Yes, Crocs are ugly. Yes, they make every one who wears them look like the offspring of a Dutchman and a Smurf. Damnit though, they make me happy, and anything that makes me happy should be seen as a boon to mankind.

I am urging you, please, support these businesses. Buy something from Old Navy, even if it's just one of their crappy tank tops that only fit fetuses. Buy some Crocs, if only to burn them and send the pictures to "I Hate Crocs" websites. Do it for me. Do it for the economy. Do it for the children. Trust me, you really don't want them to see me naked.

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The reason I am not an accountant

Last week after we had Maggie put to sleep I transferred money from our savings account to our checking in order to cover the bill. I will admit, I should have transferred the money beforehand, or on the day of, but I was a bit distracted and so didn't do it until Friday. Then I went about my happy little life, assuming everything was okay.

It wasn't.

The money wasn't actually transferred until today due to the weekend and the Veteran's Day holiday that only banks took off. However, in the meantime debits on my account had very easily gone through, despite said said weekend and holiday, and the bank was only too happy to charge an overdraft on each one. The grand total? $160.

If you'll excuse me I'm going to go put my head in the freezer.

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This is free entertainment

Today I woke up at 8:30A-M, on a weekend, to attend a financial planning seminar with Ryan. You see, it has become clear to both Ryan and myself that we shouldn't be broke all the time with the amount of money that we make, especially with nothing to show for it. I mean, if we had monkey butlers, or jet skis or diamond encrusted underwear I wouldn't feel bad, because I would know that we are spending are money wisely. But right it just feels like cash flies away in the wind. We have a savings account, but more often than not we dip into it, and we have a credit card for emergencies, which ends up being about once a month when we've spent all of our money and have forgotten to buy little things, like food.

When we got to the seminar things looked promising. They had donuts. And not the cheap grocery store kind either, the really good ones from the bakery down the hill. I figured that if this woman could afford the good donuts she must know what she's talking about. Then I saw the binders, and inside the binders, the worksheets. She wanted us to think about where we spent money, and write it down. Damn. You see, I was kind of hoping we would walk in and she would tell us that the federal government or some evil overlord had been unfairly taking our money, and now was the time to stick it to the man. But instead she wanted us to think, and, even worse, make changes.

She started by asking us to think of things that we buy every month that we don't really need. Now, looking at where I spend my money I know that there are several places people would assume I could cut. Costumes for Luke? Yes, but it's a shame to stifle a child's imagination. Wine with pretty labels? Well, don't we first eat and drink with our eyes? And don't our eyes like to see beauty? Dog daycare? Don't even go there. We don't have enough stuff for Sally to destroy if we don't take her. I did see some other places to cut though. For instance, it isn't so terrible to only eat out twice a week. And do I really need shoes? After all, I have pretty tough feet, and everyone likes to see webbed toes. It's like a surprise sideshow.

At the end of the seminar we had a list of several things we could do each month to save money. For instance, we would put money into an "escrow" account to pay for surprise expenses so we wouldn't have to constantly deplete our savings. And at the beginning of each month we will take out "spending money." When it's gone, we're done. After all, when you have to part with cash you think more about what you are buying. I can uses my debit card like a drunken sailor, but it's hard for me to part with a Jackson.

When we got home I was so jazzed I wanted to think of more ways to save money. Here are just a few of my ideas...

• Cut all produce out of our diets. After all, vegetables and fruit are pricey. And they go bad. That's just throwing money away. However, potato chips and pasta can stay in the cupboard forever, as can Spam.
  
• Sally needs to get a job. There are tons of ugly dogs on television, and she might as well be one of them. On Monday we're sending out head shots, and we're letting agents know she isn't afraid to do nudity.
  
• Live as Mother Nature intended. The body is pretty self cleaning, and some of those "beauty" products can actually cause harm. After all, doesn't deodorant cause Alzheimer's? And I'm pretty sure shampoo causes insanity in lab rats. We won't only save on products that we buy, but also on our water bill.
  
• Become freegans. There is no same in rooting through the trash. Especially since those people doing it are young and hip. We'll save money and improve our social profiles. And I doubt they will care we don't shower that often and have a dog in porn.
  
• Open a check cashing store. In the seminar we learned how much money those places make, by preying on people like us and our friends. We should be the ones preying on our friends. And if that doesn't work out we should start a credit card company. Yes, the interest isn't as high, but it could still bring in a nice chunk of change. Also, doesn't the sound of "put it on my Libbycard" sound nice?
• Win the lottery. That's really more of a retirement plan though.

I think this is a real change for us. Pretty soon we'll have so much money we might even be able to give to charity. We won't, but we would have enough. After all, we'll be using that money to keep the monkey butlers ass deep in bananas.

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