39 posts tagged “fiscally prude”

As much as I lust after things (a Mac, a Smart Car, Docs, cocktail rings with Frida Kahlo on them, GH, a 1967 Mustang, a Kindle, Le Creuset, Louboutins, etc. ad nauseam) I only own two of those (well, the Docs, of course, and then there's GH, who isn't really owned but is more of a lease-with-option-to-buy thing).

This morning on KUOW -- my 2nd station for NPR, because I'm a flaming pinko liberal -- on "Weekday" they had Rob Walker, who writes for the NYT and also used to write for Slate, specifically with respect to ads andmarketing and how we're suckers for the shiny. How very few of us will actually run the spreadsheet, go to consumer reports, etc.; we'll go ahead and buy the Viking Range even though we don't really cook or realize it's not the best (and actually one of the least well rated) out there.

I started thinking about my suceptibility to marketing. I am HUGELY suceptible to marketing, and I'm the worst sort because I do not think I am. My proof? After at least five declarations in blosphere in the last 2 years, I still buy coffee. Granted, not nearly as often, and I'm making it consistently at home (decaf only now... more about that later), but I literally have to have a conversation with myself some mornings as I drive past the Starbucks. I'm aware of it, though, and I rationalize my self to or away as necessary.

But I don't own an iPod -- the mp3 player I do have was purchased for me and it suits me fine -- I still drive the same car I've been driving for the last 7 years, I didn't buy that cocktail ring, and the project car is on hold until my savings recovers from the deck project and my inability to stop myself from traveling. (I'm thinking chickens will help with that last). I own not one piece of Le Creuset, my most expensive pair of shoes was purchased for me by my mom (black 20 eye docs, see my logo), I don't intend to purchase a Mac or a Kindle anytime soon -- my 2 year old Gateway (thanks to Zen Ken's suggestions on my power options) is going to last a bit longer, I hope. As to the Louboutins, I don't follow the Sak's guy's advice of skipping my mortgage.

Why has Starbucks succeeded, I wonder, where these others have failed? Largely I suspect with incremental price tag: one latte, about $3.50, one pair of Louboutins, about $2000 (oh, but they were beautiful). The brain can stomach a series of $3.50 charges, it cannot handle a single lump sum of $2000. Not my brain, anyway. One latte purchased every day for 2 years would buy me a set of Louboutins with $500 in spare change; that math may yet help me.

My selective hearing (or suceptibility) is also alive and well with regard to my own health. That little incident last July left zero impression on me, except maybe to punish my GERD by loading up on all of the things (in the ensuing year) that I was supposed to avoid back then: chocolate, alcohol, citrus (including tomatoes), caffeine, fried foods,onions, and large meals. I am Italian, people. I figured well last time I got chest pain it was because I had ice cream late at night: ok, so avoid ice cream late at night. But must I give up citrus? chocolate? alcohol?  

The last week or so has found me feeling on occasion like I have one of those little alien chest-bursters from the movie "Alien(s)". Like any minute this *thing* is going to punch out from my ribcage, smack from the middle (which makes no sense, that would be the hardest way out) and explain all of the weird pressure and burning and general ickyness. It's also happening at night, at morning, whether or not I've eaten, etc. I'm not sure if it's psychosomatic or not that chocolate, alcohol, and caffeine seem to irritate the hell out of it. It has woken me up out of a dead sleep the last 3 nights. Off to the doctor I went, tail between my legs. How sad is it that I was hoping she'd say it was something other than GERD?

I am apparently the proud owner of an esophageal ulcer, yay for me. This is what happens when you do not listen to the doctor. (I actually *do* listen to the doctor, and then I completely ignore all suggestions when I go home). I'm also being put on something called AXID. Which I did NOT ignore, really... I just... left the prescription with the pharmacist yesterday.

But I'm going right over to pick it up after work, really I am...

..and then, the Oral....

oh, wait, wrong movie.

I'm getting spanked, however, in the stock bet. Thoroughly, completely, and brutally spanked. This is not mommy's hand spanking, this is go-get-the-belt spanking.  FSLR is up $30 since I predicted its demise (hell, all of the senior shareholders were selling it like hotcakes) (come to think of it, has anyone seen a run on hotcakes? Do people absolutely need hotcakes and will purchase them at any price? I'm pretty good at making them, maybe I should do that instead of stock bets...)

In other fi$cal observances, my other stuff seems to be surviving and beating the index, so that's nice. I also finally got all of my accounts talking to each other and managed to get all of them to quit sending me paper statements. You'd think its' easy but trust me, it isn't. You click "online statements" or "paperless statements" and they keep right on sending them to you, or my personal favorite, decide you're their favoritest most awesomest person and they upgrade you to the superdy-dooper-card and reissue you a new card with a new number and summarily chuck all of your billing mandates. I very much do not heart the online world of finance sometimes.

I've also eliminated my poop scoop service, for reasons I won't get into because people *like* keeping food in their stomach. Suffice it to say that one egregious act of irresponsibility on THEIR part has lost them bucks and gained me a new biweekly hobby. I no longer recommend the people I was using, in the event you want a service, and I highly recommend you talk to people who have had them for more than, say, 8 months before being convinced. Trust me.

Speaking of spankings, yours truly will be at a Burlesque show (not in it, @ it) with CC and assorted other tarted up girlies, in local celebration of the upcoming nuppage. I will be wearing a short skirt and a corset and fishnets and black boots, and I'm really debating on the accessory whip. I mean really, why stop there? I *do* have a kick @ss pair of pink handcuffs... they really should get seen :)

Also, in completely unrelated but similar yayness news, the SC got off the waiting list and into the cool after school program at his new Big! Kid! Kindergarten!, starting in September.

Maybe I should wear the pink handcuffs and fishnets and boots to the first PTA meeting...

I shouldn't have bet on the weather as yesterday it rained and rained and rained. 26 each 5 year olds plus 2 teachers plus assorted parentage plus one Woodland Park Zoo = damp goodness had by all. We ate in front of the monkeys, which was only a little odd.

Last night we celebrated P-Ade's bday at my house, complete with 28 candles on a brownie ('twas a big brownie). At any minute the fire alarm was going to go off in my house. The SC chided me for calling P-Ade old, but then agreed that he was much older than me (for the record, I'm 34 and P-Ade is 28, so I am all for him appearing older than me). That took away like 50 ma'ams right there. I think I'll go roll a 20 sided dice as a multiplier, even.

And as of today I'm just wagering things all over the place. I have a private bet with P-Ade, which is one of those win-win things because either way we're going out, and then I have a bet again with A and B and now K over... First Solar, Inc. (FSLR). It's two stage, $20 for end of June and $20 for end of July:

• A: betting July only, says end of July it will be between $230 and 240
• B: betting end of June $230.01-$240.01, end of July $210-220
• K: (K picked the stock and he's a bear) betting end of June $290, end of July $319
• and the Divine Divorcee, Minor Diety in Training picked $220-230 end of June, $190-200 end of July.

I am clearly the most bearish and intend to be, in the news FSLR's top chiefs have been selling off their shares like nobody's business. I don't care how good the pre-IPO was, you don't sell if you have any sort of confidence. I actually think it will be less than my figures. But, worst case scenario I'm out $40, best I'm up $120.

With that sort of wager on the table I think I shall keep my blackjack time in Vegas this weekend to a minimum (yes, V-land: CC is having her 'chette party and I am going to make sure the bride returns from Vegas. Tomorrow I pack my hoochie mama sandals and the corset.)

Let the games begin...

According to the US Treasury and IRS websites, I should have received my Uncle Sugar money by now, but I haven't. Possible explanations include the fact that I waited until last minute to file and that Uncle Sugar is pissy since I intend to speculate with the money. I am most likely going to get a paper check, which means a trip to the bank, which I'd have to do anyway because they put my 5 year old short-hair photo on my new card -- after I took a new picture.

Well, darn.

In the meantime I gave the economy some Serious Stimulation, via Lowes, with the aid of CC and McGuyver. I purchased a deck's worth of materials. We took up 3 wood carts, a forklift, and a shopping cart, and were the subject of much drooling by those around us (for the obvious deck project, not because we're seriously hot; we're used to those looks).

Thus far the deck is under budget as far as costs, by 33%. In the spirit of my domestic tendencies I intend to take the old deck wood and make it into a chicken coop and a potting bench (once I get done with other projects). This is me, Uncle Sugar, being fi$cally responsible. And I guess by stiffing me you are, too. 'Cuz I'd just turn around and put that money into Costco stock or alternative power companies. Can't have that.

In other news I spent a few hours yesterday moving boxes and playing Mistress of Tetris for GH's brother. One Dodge Sprint + a couple of rooms of furniture + countless boxes, bundles, bags and bedding = one tightly packed van. Like shoving a very fat woman into a very small corset, it all fit but we were a bit leery of opening a door, even when we got to the new house. (The new house is very cute and has a gas station nearby that literally made me bend over and squeal over the price -- I hadn't hit Costco and should've -- but the fact of the matter is my gas budget has gone up by about 50% in the last two months).

Speaking of energy -- CC & McGuyver have just torn up about half of my deck and taken the spa house mostly down, and McGuyver is trying hard not to get electrocuted by my Dad's bailing wire and duct tape monster that heats the hot tub. We shut one of the breakers off and have discovered that two lead into the Thing, the hard way. So if you'll excuse me I'm going to log off for a bit in case I need to call 911. 

One of the first Hey I'm A Big Single Girl and I Can Do Things Myself purchases I made was a laptop. My very own laptop. I got to pick out what I wanted, and I did.

Said laptop is overheating whenever I run on battery power. It gets really really hot about an hour in and we're talking just emailing and browsing the internet, folks. It would surprise me not at all if said laptop went up in flames. So, I'm in the market for a new laptop, and the question now becomes:

Do I get a mac? I've had mac lust for a while. And I'm very lemming-like, so I can get on that bandwagon. But, a mac would set me back nearly two grand... and I have a deck to build.

I think I'll just wait for my laptop to set fire first.

or Husband, that is.

Articles like this, in hand with my personal space issues, largely fuel why I don't believe I'll get married again. (Or if I do, I'll do it in a very Frida Kahlo-Diego Rivera way and have a separate house and fiscal considerations).

This conversation came up on the way to boot camp where a friend of mine and I discovered that a third friend had a completely separate, secret account that her husband of 5 years did not know about. She stated that she needed it for her own security because, as a previously divorced woman and child of a single parent, she realized that it's a bit of a dog-eat-dog world out there and you don't want to be caught wearing Milk Bone underwear. I think, incidentally, that this is a perfectly serviceable option for a man or woman in a committed relationship with the following provisos:

• the funds of said account come exclusively from the earnings of the account holder
• the account was open before the marriage
• you have no problem at all that your spouse probably has one, too.

And here's the rub: rarely is that considered a square deal going both ways. I don't know the friend of friend well enough to know if she would be piqued or completely accepting of her husband having a "secret" account, the problem with those being that if they are found out the larger issue is why the secrecy.

Fiscally speaking, there are three ways to do this and different strokes work for different folks. Actually, a few of these are exemplified by a few of the couples I know directly:

• Couple A is married, has/will have kids, homeowners, both professionals. Couple A has completely joint finances, administered by him or her or them. This works because she is good about saving money and he is good about investing it, or they're both on the same fiscal plan with the potential understanding that shortly one income will go away as she raises the kids.
• Couple B is married and/or living together, not having children, homeowners, both professionals. Couple B has what I call semiseparate finances, administered by themselves, wherein a joint account is established to pay off communal bills. This works for them really well because they communicate. (X and HER had this plan, too, it didn't work so well...something about the communication...?)
• Couple C -- a couple I don't know directly but have heard about -- have *completely separate everything*. I mean everything. The apocryphal story is that when they went to Home Depot to pick out blinds, they each swiped the card for exactly 50%.

Now I'm really a big fan of the "A" method -- I did it in my own marriage, I was both the saver and the investor -- but it only works if you want to be in that position and if you start out early enough that you don't have a separate vision of what the money does and should do. X and I got married quite young, so that was handy.

I'm also a really big fan of the "B" method -- If you have joint expenses then it's a "good faith" move to have a joint account with auto deposit and shared billpaying duties. That's just polite (and politeness counts, folks, to your spouse as much as to anyone else).

I'm not so much about the "C" method-- If things are so separate that they can't square up over the weekend while paying bills and have to do it right then, I think they have larger issues.

Speaking of larger issues, which is more damaging: fiscal infidelity or emotional infidelity or physical infidelity? To me, that last is just a lagniappe, nice to have but probably impractical in our current social clime (whatever rules you have agreed with your S.O. should prevail, though-- again keeping in mind that what is good for the goose is good for the gander). However, emotional infidelity -- and I think most women would characterize this as romantic affection toward another person without preconsent of the original wife/girlfriend/etc. -- seems to do far more damage to a woman than does fiscal infidelity. This is interesting to me, because (having been through heartbreak, one and all) you know you'll get over the emotional cost of a relationship in a year or two. But bad credit? That can follow you for years and years and years. 

Say it with me, kids: Prenup!

I spent the Entire Day in Training. That's how it felt. From 8:30 to about 4pm, I attended Princples of Leadership. I learned how to motivate. I learned how to include. I learned how to collaborate. I also had to ignore everything else I had to do.

Thanks to the modeling clay they provide as a stress reliever I learned how to sculpt calla lillies and roses. This is useful because I intend to make a Bridal Shower cake soon and wanted to get my technique down. I got many compliments on the output so yay for that.

Speaking of which: the Kilt is going well. It's just the part of it that doesn't engender itself to updates. "I did pleats 14-17 last night", for example, doesn't say much. There are 33 pleats. Expect them to be done in another week or so. It takes about 20 minutes, start to finish, to properly measure, pin, and sew one pleat, because of the tapering. So -- yeah, not exciting in terms of blogsphere, but eminently satisfying. You will be happy to learn that said pleats 14-17 were done to a mix of Disturbed (Land of Confusion), the Flobots (Handlebars, and Rise), New Order (Regret), and Soundgarden (Spoonman, The Day I Tried to Live). I also learned that beeswax is a tricky thing: excellent when used sparingly, annoying (and will knot your thread like dreadlocks in a summertime afro) when you use too much. Also, it takes 20 minutes per pleat when you, I don't know, completely unstitch one because it wasn't good enough (yes, I did. That would be the fourth. But you do this with other things-- quilts, etc. I remember one time I was making a blouse and pretty much tore it apart because I didn't think it was 'finished' enough...)

I am so proud of myself, though. I said no to spending money on something that I wanted, but didn't want enough to give up other things. There was a ticket available for Corteo, the new Seattle Cirque show, and it was the foo-foo VIP cool seats version, and it was, $200. Man, I thought a while about that. $200 is bank, to be sure, but it's Cirque and it would be with GH and one life to live and all that. But I said no, because that $200 is either destined for Vegas or Mexico. TravelGrrl needs her smack. What I really need is to just get off my now narrowing ass and win the lottery. But it doesn't seem to be happening. Ergo, the self-analysis and restraint.

That coughing sound you hear (to the restraint) is some of my dearest friends. Who know me better.

Here we are Mayday, and the purported arrival of $548 thanks to Uncle Sugar should be in my BofA account.

How did my little stock experiment do? Well, one week shy of three months I have a gain of $29.95 and an overall growth of 5.94%. The big winners were Ebay and Home Depot, with Staples and Target pulling only $1.60 worth.

Will I invest in the same stocks? No I will not. Had I invested in Costco (with my same rationale that people will need cheap things in the future) my return would've been 12.94%.

The Dow has gone up 4.8% in the same period, the NASDAQ 4.26%: so I beat the market, at the very least.

• you get to go shopping to purchase a new one. I like this one.
• you get a new bank card photo
• you get a new drivers license photo
• you get a new costco photo
• you get a new IATA photo
• you discover you really didn't need to carry around a blockbuster card, since you haven't rented a movie from blockbuster for oh, 2 years
• you discover those keyring cards are handy -- don't need to worry about my qfc or pet pals card or library card
• it brings home the point that I tend to put my wallet in my back pocket and that is bad for my back and so then i use my purse as a junk drawer, which one should not do
• did i mention i get to go shopping?

"Thank you for calling Ginormous Conglomerate Bank, please enter your 16 digit account number".

Keep in mind, I've just called GCB's "Lost or Stolen Card" hotline. GCB also X's out your account number on your online, and offline, statements. To wit: if your card is stolen, YOU DON'T KNOW YOUR ACCOUNT NUMBER.

So I wait, because the automated thingy should transfer me, right?

No. It asks me patiently, ever so insistently, to enter my 16 digit account number. Which I do not have.

It continues to apologize (passive aggressively) and suggests that it should transfer me to a human.

Oh Good! Transfer me to a human. A human will get it!

The human did not get it.

The first human asked me for my card number. To which I said, well, yes, you see I just called the Lost or Stolen Card line... because, you see... my card has been Lost or Stolen.

No problem, can they have my Social Security Number? Sure, here it is.

*click* as they hang up on me.

So I call back.

I go through the ask-thrice-for-my-card-number routine and get continuingly pissed that this is the way the Lost or Stolen Card line is set up. Then I get a New Human.

Who didn't get it, either, and asked me for my card number. Which I patiently but edgily explained that I called the Lost or Stolen Card line, and my card has been Lost or Stolen, and their statements don't print the card number, so no I can't give her my card number.

She, too, wants my Social Security number. Which I provide. And then ask to talk to a manager.

First she verifies who I am. Then she transfers me to the manager. The manager is very soothing to all of this and points out that even though I am calling the Lost or Stolen line, it transfers you to the General Inquiry people, who don't know and aren't told that you called in on the Lost or Stolen card line. He wanted to know if that took care of me.

I am unsure, at this point, if they arereplacing the card or not. I do know that I don't want to call back just yet, because my feelings on all of this are much too warm. My other banks were sweetness and light and helpful. GBC is poo.