Crack Den Couture for the Upper Middle Class

While on a wild pinning spree, I started to notice a repetative pattern in the images from one of my favorite stores. (If you just said, "huh?" I'm talking Pinterest. Google it.)  

Juxtaposition, odd marketing stategy, trying to make overpriced linens seem not so over-priced? Art? Call it what you will. All I took from these advertising images is the assumed truth that Anthropologie shoppers must all live in crack dens.

They moved the bed away from the wall so now
they're safe from the mold, you see.

Every little girl's fantasy bedroom: Wrought iron headboard,
pretty yellow sheets and sludgy walls.

Roof over my head, or fancy comforter... Roof over my head, or fancy comforter...?
FANCY COMFORTER!!!

Why, no! No murder was ever commited here.
Just go to sleep dear...

The best way to counteract asbestos?
A purple chair-and-a-half! 

The honeymoon suite.
Just don't look up tonight, darling!

Scared by the nightime sounds of your house settling?
You just need an antelope pillow to cuddle up to.

With pretty bedding like this, you won't mind
ingesting lead-based paint chips in your sleep!

No time to repair plaster and refinish the hardwood floors?
A low-hanging chandelier is sure to distract the eye.

I couldn't afford a Trapper Keeper for my homework
because my duvet cost too much.

The most restful place to position the bed is
directly beneath where the bathtub is likely to fall through.

So, next time you begin to judge the lady with the fancy shopping bag, vintage-looking sailor pants and the perfectly heathered embroidered sweater... Don't jealously assume she's going home to your dream house.

Maybe, just maybe, some Anthropologie shoppers really do live in crack-dens.

 Some may be gypsies...

And, some simply homeless...

(They do have free coffee in their stores, you know.)

Give Me a Little Credit. No, Wait. Don't!

Today, I experienced a crowning achievement in my lifetime: 

I paid off  my last credit card!!!

For the first time in twenty years I have a cumulative credit card balance of zilch and what a feeling of relief that has washed over me!

That feeling is something I've never experienced in my entire adulthood, seeing that my first shiny Visa card was delivered via snail mail at the same age that my adulthood began, eighteen. 

It arrived with a limit much higher than my then annual salary. From that day, it only took a few years for that limit to be gradually raised to an amount which nearly equals of my current annual salary.  Even though I was still making near minimum wage at that time.

Brilliant move, creditors.  Well played.

So, what have I been paying off for twenty years?  I dunno...  *shrug*

But here's my best guess:

• Gasoline.  Yes, my "responsible" first credit card purchase was gasoline for the graduation beater.  My wise financial plan at the time was to open one credit card and use it to fill my gas tank.  I would use my allotted gas money to pay off the card balance every month; thus, responsibly building a credit history to eventually finance a car purchase before the graduation beater's engine had coughed its last breath. Then came shoes...
• When the need came for a new pair of church shoes, or work slacks, or the favorite pair of jeans whose hem became thready, I reasoned that well... it was probably okay to charge that one thing and then pay off my balance in two months.  One month of interest can't cost that much.  Right?  And, think of how that would boost my credit history even quicker.  (Eighteen-year-old logic.)  But, then I got hungry...
• My generation, in our late teens and twenties, ate out constantly. We didn't have kitchens and ovens of our own.  So, we met up over dinner, over weekend lunches, over midnight snacks.  It was social!  Growing up, my family only ate out once a week.  On Friday paydays.  And, "eating out" meant Wendy's or McDonald's, not table service.  (Paid for in cash, no less.)  On a special Sunday night, we might do Big Boy's after church.  Socializing, back then, consisted of inviting family friends over for a home-cooked meal, or being invited over family friends' house for an exchange of the same.  I don't know how Gen X decided we were entitled enough to be waited on and rich enough to dine out five days a week.  But, my guess is probably around the time we all got credit cards! (We were very generous tippers though.  I know this because I just finished paying off that waiter's tip who graduated college and got his first grown-up job fifteen years ago.  Too back he couldn't collect the interest on that tip, it might have helped with his student loans.) And, then I finally got that new car loan...
• Once I made my first new car purchase, money got tight!  Five years of car payments?  Whew, good thing I have that credit card for incidentals!  Then I got another crush...
• Having a crush on a guy would always require an "investment" of a couple new outfits.  I mean, getting this guy's attention could be the first step to an eventual proposal.  Then we could pay off each other's debts together as chirping bluebirds fly circling our heads.  Then you get dumped...
• A slap of reality can effect many facets of life.  With stars removed from one's eyes, the grass is less green, the sky is less blue, and the bills are all yours.  Long-term.  Your minimum payment is creeping up beyond your comfort zone.  You tap like crazy on the calculator, you look at calendars three years in advance, you freak out with your friends who are in similar credit debt situations.  Then came the helpful blank credit card "checks"...
• BIG ploy in the nineties!  Each credit card bill came with a sheet of blank checks you could write out to pay your bills, to make purchases, to transfer balances or even make out to yourself.  The draw was that purchases made specifically with these checks would be charged a separate lower interest rate.  Usually in the single digits.  Sometime 0%.  I'd put these checks aside just in case.  If the budget got too tight one month, I'd write one to myself for a cushion or to pay my largest bill.  (Hey, I'll pay that amount off later, but at lower interest!  Yep, twenty-something logic.)  I remember once being on sick leave for two months from a job that didn't offer sick pay.  I actually paid two different credit card bills with 0% checks from the other's account.  Yes, I swapped a portion of the balance of two credit cards just because I couldn't make the minimum payment on either.  I dodged two payments with one fell swoop and it saved my credit score from taking a non-payment hit.  It also made me oddly prideful that I managed to eke out the bills once again without ever asking my parent's for a loan.  Then, I knew it was time to buckle down...

Yes, my spending spiral only lasted about half the length of time that my debt did.  I spent the next decade paying off bills for clothes that had already been donated to Goodwill, meals that had been digested and flushed away ages ago, investments in men that were no longer around and gasoline that was now vapors.  The consumerism frenzy that is my generation's produced not one lasting result.

Well, except, lessons for the next generation.  I can now warn of my biggest traps:

• Thriftiness.  Yes, thriftiness!  I love clothes, but I love a good bargain too.  I've always prided myself on never paying full price for anything.  I used to love when people thought I was wearing $50 jeans, but I secretly knew they were $12.99 knock-offs from the clearance rack.  I wasn't opposed to name-brands, but would find mine with red tags, at the designer's outlet store or, best yet, with a red tag at the outlet store!  This is smart shopping.  But, not if you don't have the money in the bank to make the purchase.  Outlet stores accept those store charge cards too.  Don't fall for the trap!  You only need seven outfits to get through the week and to laundry day.  Not thirty to get through the month, if you can't afford it.  A good deal's not a good deal if you're shopping with credit, period. (And, just think, what were $50-grade jeans back then are now $150 jeans these days!)
• Store charge discounts.  "You can save 25% off your purchase if you sign up for an account with us today!"  But, with usually double the interest rate of your standard Visa or Mastercard, stores will make back that 25% back and more in no time.  
• "Investments".  Don't make investments in anything with a credit card.  The guys aren't even noticing your new threads.  That job interview you "need" the new outfit for, won't know the difference if your pantsuit was bought second hand.  Skip the investment and shop instead with that first paycheck once you get the job.
• Socializing.  There's no law that states that socializing has to be done under the watchful eye of a hostess, waiter and bus-boy.  Bonding has been known to take place over a cup of Ramen Noodles  just as effectively.  I swear!  It's been done.
• Technology.  I was never a technology sucker... but, I'll throw this in because everyone else seems to be.  You don't need the latest and greatest. Two year old technology works just as well.  I am devoted to Amazon and Ebay for used gadget purchasing.  My most recent purchase was my first Ipod. (Yep, in 2013.  Told ya.  Not much of a technology sucker...)  I researched online which model best-suited my simple needs, but wasn't too outmoded to be used realistically.  Online research protects you from sales pressure and up-selling you'll get if you walk into a store without a clue.  I needed something that played music; no games, internet, movie-watching, etc.  I've got enough gadgets that already do all of that!  I chose a fifth generation Nano purchased on Ebay for about 2/3 of the price of a new 7th generation one.  Free shipping.  Oh yeah... and it's paid for.  Not charged!
• Panic purchasing.  Once you realize you're in deep, don't freak out and shop to comfort yourself.  You'd be surprised how many people do this!  Myself included.  "I'm never going to pay this off, so I may as well buy this too."  It seems like a weird concept on paper, but makes perfect sense in the moment somehow.  Stop!  It's never too late to stop the cycle.  A great motivator for me was discovering Dave Ramsey's talk show.  It came on the radio every night during my evening commute.  Listening to his forceful yet somehow simultaneously caring voice chastise callers with, "You can't afford it!  Why would you buy it?" and "Why do you need a new car?" and "Why are you eating out instead of paying down your debt with that money?" was a great motivator. (http://www.daveramsey.com/home/)  Hearing others struggle, helped the problem not seem mine alone. And, hearing practical advice from a financial expert, for free, was priceless!
• Feeling "grown up".  Yep, I was eighteen years old when this cycle began.  You don't need a credit card to be an adult.  About 76% of college students have at least one credit card and the average college student already carries $3,173 in credit card debt.  College students.  Those are 18-21 year olds!  Most not even earning that amount in wages from their part-time jobs around campus.  They then graduate, hopefully get a full-time job, just to become full-fledged adults with an average of $15,204 in credit card debt now.  Their slice of the American credit card debt pie of $848 billion.  (Not to mention the average $33,005 in student loans they get to lug around too.)

I don't know the solution to the problem.  

I guess the first step is educating the young ones around you about fiscal responsibility starting early.  Everytime I've taken my nephews and niece on vacation, I've allotted them a certain amount of spending money for them to choose their own souvenirs with.  Some are broke by Day 2, some return home with pocket change.  It's not only a good lesson, but a good gauge for who to keep my eye on through the years.  Little things like this, I'm hoping will add up to good spending habits.

Most of all, I think our honesty is the biggest lesson.  I haven't been the best consumer but learn from my mistakes, young ones!  

I know there may be some in the more responsible generation that are shocked I even chose share this news so publicly. It's not proper. Finances are supposed to be a private thing. 

But, if my generation isn't the most fiscally responsible, there is one area we do excel in: Sharing and supporting.  

It's a long tunnel that alot of us have been trapped in, but it's not an endless one.  And, believe me!  That breath of fresh air at the end is definitely worth moving forward for.

Statistics by:
http://www.statisticbrain.com/credit-card-debt-statistics/  and www.nerdwallet.com

Shopping While Hungry

If there's one thing I'll never learn my lesson about, it's going grocery shopping while hungry. 

I usually stick to the micro "grocery store" located in my local Target for weekly trips.  Once a month I'll drag my feet to an actual grocery chain to stock up on the remainders on my list that Target doesn't carry (Whole Grain Pringles, meat... fresh fruit if I'm feeling health-conscious.)  Every now and again I'll stumble into the super-mega-gigantico store located seconds from my office and get lost for days among the abundant selection of pasta, Pop-Tarts and frozen meals.  And, I usually tend to do this around dinner time when everything looks especially delicious and as absolute necessities to be added to my fridge.

I actually landed home in my kitchen with three different varieties of granola bars last night!  Sorry, make that six varieties, three different brands.  I don't even think Target carries six different granola types, so I have no choice but to experiment when given the fleeting chance.  Right?

Well, when finding yourself not quite lost but wandering though the fluorescent lit aisles of a super-mega-gigantico chain, you're all but forced to people-watch as well as make obscene purchases.  Like it or not, in order to get to the granola aisle you must first wade through a sea of super-mega-gigantico shoppers.

My first memorable encounter cut me off in the dishware aisle.  (Hey, I needed a cup!)  It was a teenage daughter whining at breakneck speeds to her mother about her best goodest friend that had the nerve to not confide in her about some issue I couldn't catch before they rounded the next corner.  My wish was not granted as I crossed them again, "She couldn't tell me this, but she could tell the lunch lady?!?"  And, again, "The lunch lady is more important confidante than ME?!?"  And, again, "THE LUNCHLADY, Mom???!!!" for the next four aisles.

I began to share the same forward-glazed stare of her poor mother, quietly tolerate, but offering no insight to her daughter's woes as she pushed her cart solemnly up and down each aisle at a robotic death march pace.  The only difference was that, on my end, I could escape to the dairy aisle and poor mother could not.  In her shoes I might have piped in with the suggestion that maybe Best Goodest Friend was simply defining her right not to have her business broadcast across the local super-mega-gigantico store.  But, I think poor mother's only take on this was a deep-seated yen to trade places with the lunchlady, if only for the moment.

The dairy aisle alerted me to an egg thief on premises.  I had to open three cartons to find one with all egg slots full!  I only can hope the burgled eggs found their way to a hungry child's stomach and not to the windshield of my SUV parked out front.

It was around the breakfast aisle I came across the annoying sound of human whistling.  Bird whistling is fine in my book.  Even children's whistling I can live with.  But, the sound of a grown man forcing spittle through his lips and out into the inhaled oxygen of the general public is just a pet peeve I rank right up there with nails on a chalkboard.  Don't argue with me that it's a sound of jolliness.  Any jolly spirit-choosing-to-whistle's jolliness is negated by the robbery of the audience's jolly.  (Got that?!)

Even more annoying than the general whistling, was the chosen tune!  It was a repetitive loop of what started out to be the Jeopardy theme song and ended up segueing into the first two lines of "Deck the Halls."  He'd seemingly forget the next lines, pause for twenty seconds and then launch back into The Jeopardy theme... wait for it, wait for it... oops it's Deck the Halls again!

This went on through my insane granola purchase and then four subsequent aisles of frozen food.  By aisle three, the peeve-ranking got raised a notch when the small child in the seat of Whistler's cart started chanting "Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi!" into his face.  Whistler just kept on whistling as if he was oblivious to the fact that he had, at some point in his life, procreated.  'Tis the season to be jolly... "Hi. Hi. Hi! Hi!"  This may have been the only word the young one had learned so far in his short life. But, I'm pretty sure it could be interpreted as, "Hi Dad!  Remember me?  I'm that kid that loves you and I'm twenty-four inches from your face.  Do you see me down here?  Hi!  I think I've inhaled just about the right amount of your spittle for now.  Thanks for the jolly tune!  Hi."

By the time I exited the frozen section, I was pretty much done.  I had just the bread aisle to go as I gazed into the trappings of my cart.  Holy smokes!  This is just food for one?!  I had visions of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman taunting, "Big mistake!  HUGE!"  But, instead of holding Gucci bags up in the air, I had processed cheese, real cheese and cheese by-products (...if those exist.  Do they?  If they do, they were in my cart.  "HUGE!")  I even ended up with a frozen ham and cheese sandwich that comes with it own small vat of cheese dipping sauce.  Yes, I'd even selected cheese that you heat up and dip into more cheese!

This is the point where you're supposed to come to your senses and start dropping things in the candy and magazine racks that are conveniently located near the checkout for the purpose of discarding unnecessary items.  But, nope, I was still hungry, it all still looked delicious and every thing ended up on the conveyor belt.  Three brands of granola bars in six varieties, cheese sandwiches you dip in cheese and all!

I didn't let the cashier boy (who made very clear in body language and facial expression that I had ruined his day by choosing his register) ruin my food booty high.  I even helped him bag my purchase.  Then I drove right home, nuked a frozen mushroom burger (with Swiss!) and proceeded to have a slightly severe bout of indigestion for the next 24 hours.  That's where a trip to the super-mega-gigantico store will get you!

You'll find me at Target next week.

Things I Overhear: "Nakie Men" Edition

I overhear alot of things when shopping at Target.  It is my favorite discount chain.  And, since they started carrying groceries a few years back, I now find myself there at least once a week.

In visiting so frequently, I tend to overhear many things.  Newly cohabitating couples, grocery shopping together for the first time, deciding how on earth to make dinner for two.  Babies alerting their parents that they've been shopping too long.  One-ended sides of cell phone conversations.  Mothers demanding, "Put that back!"  Kids pleading, "But, I really really need it!"

Today's ditty was overheard over the tops of the shelves and took place one aisle over from where I shopped.  I was in the feminine hygiene aisle (don't snicker, we're all grown-ups here...) and we all know which product is kept one aisle over from feminine hygiene.

Little Girl:  [apparently looking at some sort of product packaging]  "Ew mommy, why is that guy naked?!"

Mom: [half listening] "Hmmm..."

Me: [in thought, and catching on quicker that Mom] Oh goodness, that little girl's first trip through the contraceptive aisle.

Little Girl:  "He's naked mommy.  Tee hee hee."

Mom: [paying better attention now] "What?  Oh... put that back!"

Me: [in thought] Don't shop for condoms with your kid, lady!

Little Girl:  "I can't believe this guy is naked.  Why in the world would he be NAKED???"

Mom: "Come over here by me."

Little Girl: "Hee hee.  He is sooo nakie!"

Mom: "Shhhh...

Little Girl: "But, he's NAKIE!!!  WHY would he be NAKED??  Hee hee hee hee."

Me: [In thought]  For goodness sakes, get that kid out of there before her innocence is stolen and lost for good!

Mom: [Obviously embarrassed now and sounding as if she's finally decided to shuffle along]

Little Girl: [Manages to blurt out, while being dragged out of the aisle] "I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY HAVE NAKIE MEN HERE!"

And, away they finally go.

Being the good blog reporter that I am, I decided to coast my cart over one aisle to see what all the fuss is about.  (They sell first aid in that row too, y'know. Who's to say I'm not shopping for Band-Aids?)

I round the corner and, lo and behold, what lay before me?  Three full shelves of nakie men!  From the waist up, that is.  With towels around their bottom halves.  Clutching their backs, as if in pain.  With an odd rectangle of white slapped onto their backs.

Yes.  The poor little girl's innocence was taken by the IcyHot medicated heat patch display.

I'll give her another month or two before her radar kicks in.  That's when she'll turn around, discover the other side of the aisle and really come up with some extra loud questions to embarrass her mother with.

Until then!

Attention Walmart Shoppers

The Walmart parking lot: A good place to die

As much controversy as the People of Walmart website has brought with its creation, can you really blame it?  I, myself, have very strong opinions about shopping at the discount retail chain.

It's not because I'm rich (ha!), snooty (eh?) or like Paris Hilton, who had avoided the place merely because she thought they were some kind of store that sold walls.  No.  It's just that every Walmart experience I've had has been an odd one that I wished would be over with as quickly as possible.

I can't quite put my finger on it.  I can't tell them how to fix it.  Every visit is unnecessarily overwhelming, overstimulating and mysteriously cringe-inducing.  And, I'm faced with these issues each time I step foot in the place because they have something on sale there that I can't find any place else.

Take, for instance:

• Their shopping carts.  Although, I am impressed with their cart retrieval area (complete with heat lamps to dry and warm the carts in inclement weather) I always seem to end up with the wobbly one.  Over and over, I think poorly on my luck of winding up with that shaky-wheeled cart once again.  Then I realized that all the carts are wobbly!  There is no luck involved.  Each and every cart squeals with that ear piercing metal-on-metal grinding sound and steers as if all four wheels have not yet decided to work as a complete team.  In fact, I'd beg to reason that they've installed one oval wheel per cart, just to throw us off.
• Their shoppers.  Those steering the carts seem to never be in the proper lane.  It's bad enough to listen to the bitter symphony of thousands of metal-on-metal squeal carts all being driven at one time.  But, Walmart shoppers seem to have no grasp of the concept of driving in the right lane and passing in the center.  I usually get my heels scuffed once per visit.  There's always disorienting cart traffic, not unlike the old silent films depicting what street traffic looked like before the installation of traffic lights.  There's always someone parked side-ways, mid-aisle, letting neither lane pass.  There's always an abandoned cart, half-full, with its shopper invisibly somewhere in the surrounding 25 foot radius (but suddenly visible once you try to move their cart out of the way.) 
• Their parking lot.  Each time I exit a Walmart parking lot, I feel fortunate to have escaped with my life.  (Those cart drivers end up in cars, you know.)
• Their cashiers.  They all seem to hate being there.  They're usually gossiping with their neighboring cashier, complaining about their long four hour shift, pausing your ring-up to call their manager to see if they can go on break yet, or simply wandering off.  (Yes, my cashier up and wandered off today.)

Sigh... 

So, attention Walmart shoppers.  You're scaring me away!  Go ahead and call me snooty.  Call me a prejudice consumer... but I never seem to have these problems at Target.

There.  I've said my peace.

Resolution

Now that I've made my new year's resolution, I'm finding it harder and harder to blog and update Facebook.  I resolve the same thing almost every year; to be nicer, less judgmental, to block out gossip and to try to say something positive when a conversation turns negative.

This year's difference is that I made this resolution in December, back when I was still lying sick in bed feeling as if death became me, and I found myself in a week-long bartering session with God.  "Why am I not getting better?",  "No one else's illness is lasting this long?",  "Are you trying to teach me something?",  "What did I do?",  "I will be faithful like Job, but do you realize I feel like I'm dying?", "Alright, if you heal me I promise I'll really try to be a nicer person."  And, then I started to heal.

Yeah, so this trade was intended to impact only my personal sphere of human beings... But then, by default, I found that each time a celebrity would go and do something dumb/weird/gross/off-the-wall, at the point that my snark usually kicks in, I'd run to update my FB status and find myself not being able to hit the "Enter" key.  I've literally gotten as far as typing out a hilarious comment (that was sure to get at least ten likes and five LOLs) and then found myself at the mercy of an immediate spiritual twinge that took control of my arm and made be hit the backspace key.  Delete.  Delete.  Delete.

Oh boy.  Celebrities are people too?  I'm screwed.  I even willingly let my People subscription run out!  I even skipped The Soup AND E's Fashion Police this week!  I even felt sorry, when flipping past one of those Kardashian shows, for Kim and her romantic codependency condition!

I guess my resolution has just taken on new life this year, when elevated from just a good thought to an actual promise.

There are a few other things I've learned in the last year that I like to try to carry in to the new one:

• Stress is unavoidable, only the way you choose to handle it is in your control.
• It's okay to watch only comedies if that's all you're in the mood for.  There's no need to force yourself to sit through any form of entertainment that scares you, depresses you, grosses you out, makes you feel weird inside, makes you cry when you're not in the mood for tears, or anything else that seems like a waste of your time or that just isn't your cup of tea.  No matter how many awards it may win one day or how many friendly recommendations you've been given.  This goes for music, books and tv too.  Sorry, American Horror Story!  No offense, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo!
• Fresh air is like nature's vitamin supplement.  Be sure to inhale a recommended amount daily.
• Too many months of glasses wear has officially killed my vanity.  I don't even do my hair every day!  (Yes, I comb my hair everyday.  I just throw it in a ponytail much more often.)  Makeup, also, has become strictly optional.  Not sure if this is a good or bad thing yet.
• I have finally reached the point where I can honestly say, "Okay, I really do own enough clothes."
• I tried some new foods and didn't like them.  The curiosity is over and I never have to eat them again.  At least I tried!
• Go to the doctors while you still have insurance.

I thought the biggest challenge of 2012 was going to be wading through that puddle of job stress.  I'm now beginning to think it might actually be finding ways to make you guys LOL, without compromising my resolution.

Cheers to my trying!  Hang in there with me!

Ebay Pet Peeves

Being under the weather this week, avoiding stores this time of year and being just an all around lazy person... I've found myself prowling around Ebay a little too much lately.

I go through phases where I absolutely must have as much 99-cents-with-free-shipping jewelry from China as I can possibly get my hands on.  Or, I feel I suddenly need to revamp 50% of my wardrobe while staying deeply beneath retail price.  Or, I've read through every book I own and need to restock.  (Ebay's Half.com is perfect for this!)  Or, sometimes, I just feel like there's too much Disney memorabilia out there that's begging to come live on my shelves.

Well, this has been one of those weeks.  Which has found me wasting hour upon hour on the auction site.  Which has presented me with the following list of Ebay pet peeves:

• Categorizing tube tops under the fields "Long Sleeve" and "Sweater".
• Posting a picture of an item of clothing which is spread out across an entire dining table, to fully display its amount of girth, and then having the nerve to also advertise it as "Sexy!"
• Saturating an item of clothing with any kind of perfume before shipping it.  Any kind.  Even if you think it's your "best" perfume.  I don't want to smell it and I certainly don't want to smell like it.
• Leaving a used tissue in the pocket of a clothing item before shipping it.  (Yes.  This has happened.  Took every ounce of willpower not to mention in my feedback.  "Great communication, fast shipping, seems to be suffering from cold or allergies.  Yes, I got your tissue!")
• Not listing the materials listed clothing are made of.  Yes, some of us shoppers have allergies.
• The fact that every adorably unique piece of clothing from Japan or Korea has my measurements falling under 3XL on their size chart.  (I'm an 8/10 here in the states.  Pre-holidays, at least.)  And, Asia never seems to have my ginormous size in stock.
• The need to list items as "Super cute", "Adorable", "Sooo hot" or any other adjectives attached to outdated and itchy-looking clothing.  Post a picture, I'll decided on the adjectives.
• Not posting a picture.
• Pop the head off of that mannequin with the early 80's feathered hair and blue eyeshadow.  It's ruining the whole effect of your photo.
• Don't say something is a "Medium" if you're going to post a picture of its tag which clearly reads "XS".
• "Vintage" does not equal five years ago.
• Pink is not "Red", Cranberry is not "Red", Burgundy is not "Red", Coral is not "Red" and Brown is not "Black".
• While we're at it, Mid-thigh is not "Knee length" and anything with an entire chest peep-hole should not be categorized as "Wear to Work".
• A knee-length gray hooded sweatshirt emblazoned with "LA" should also not be listed as a wear-to-work dress. Unless you're assuming we're all janitors at the Staples Center.

Well, that's all of my complaints for today.  I love my Ebay too much to bring up any more!  If you're an Ebay seller, please take note of the above constructive criticisms.  And, before you try to label me as a shopaholic, just keep in mind, my newest outfit probably cost less than your last Saturday night out.

"Wear to Work'?  Only if you earn your wages in singles!

Holy Eyeball!

So, you've noticed I've been on a bit of a blogging hiatus.  All due to yet another pain in my eye.

Apparently, when I inflicted the scratched-up eye damage from a couple months ago, the damage was done to both eyes.  Problem with that: Only one eye was hurting at the time, therefore, only one eye got treated. 

Sooo, now my previously untreated eye has grown an ulcer large enough to make two grown men eye doctors blurt out hideous noises of fright upon first sight of it.  Large enough to make men whinny, but small enough to only be seen through a opthamolgist's microscope.  (Believe me, I've tried looking for it!)

I'm told it's an atypical ulcer because I'm not writhing in pain.  Apparently, my lack of writhing means I'll need to see a corneal expert if things don't start clearing up by Monday.  That should have been my cue to start "feeling" something torturous, therefore placing my ailment back on the typical scale, but I've always been one to miss my cue.  Maybe I just have a high tolerance for pain and  maybe for that I should be rewarded.  But, seemingly that's not how things work in the world of opthamology.  They like textbook.  I've never been textbook.

 

Strangely enough, ever since I drove away from the doctor's office, I've had the annoying sensation much akin to having a very large man is sticking his very large thumb into the top of my eye.  I'll have to remember to mention that on Monday, just in case it's some backward-to-me sign of progress.

I've been in glasses for about a month now, and you should know how that goes based on previous posts.  Besides still adjusting the the constant weight on my---already weighty---nose,  I'm having trouble getting past the notion that I feel I must dress much preppier than I'd like for the time being.  Glasses equals prep to me somehow, and this is one prep rally that has gone into overtime and needs to be ended real soon!

I keep finding myself on Ebay bidding on cable-knit sweaters that I suddenly feel I need.  (Although, I really could use some new sweaters, since Michigan winters get mighty cold.) I'm beginning to think the ulcer may spreading to my brain.  I keep finding myself stopping for a moment on the busy Cosby-era sweaters, and so have concluded that the hole has swallowed up the 00's and late-90's portions of my cerebrum.  If these eye drops don't start working soon, I may find myself on my next Ebay hunt for this jumpsuit from my past.

I'm the little one.  Don't worry, though, I inherited the bigger version by the early 80's

At that point I'll know the 80's portion has been swallowed up as well and the 70's is sure to be gone next.  That might be my time to start looking for a whole 'nother kind of doctor as well.

Well, my double and triple vision is starting to return now and I can't really tell what I'm typing, so I guess that means it's time for another dose and I'll make it an early wrap tonight.

If you ever hurt/scratch/upset your eye, or if it ever just doesn't "feel right", go to your eye doctor right away!  There's no sense in waiting, unless you too want to see how a hole in the eye can make a grown man whinny. 

And, if you feel so inclined, would you please remember my little eyeball in your bedtime prayers tonight?  It would be much obliged.

Christmas Shopping: Get set!

Sooo... With round one of shopping complete, it turns out I've already managed to buy one gift for one niece that she already owns, and another gift for another niece that she received last yuletide.  My nephews that I've already bought for keep giving me more ideas, but the nephews I haven't shopped for yet are still leaving me stumped.  Two steps forward, three steps back.

When I asked my parents what they'd like for Christmas, my dad responded with, "All I want is for your mom (the hip surgery patient) to be able to walk well again on Christmas." and I believe I may have promised to get him that.  (Oops.  Flashbacks to little Cindy in that very Brady Christmas episode immediately followed.)  The prospect of lightening my shopping budget got the best of me.  A working hip would come free to me, but with heavy pressure on Mom's physical therapist.  (Step it up, bud!)

The nine-year-old keeps begging me for clues about what he's getting.  He says, "If you won't tell me, will you at least tell my sister?  She won't tell me.  I promise!  She's really good at keeping secrets!"  Sounds like a conspiracy in the works to me.  He's putting way too much pressure on me to come up with something spectacular, so I set the bar especially low by telling him I got him tons of socks and underwear, while sounding really excited about it.  Apparently, he doesn't remember complaining last year that he was sure I had just bought him a stack of social studies books.  Giving such a suggestion to your prankster aunt will get you nowhere good, fast.  (See video below)

Well, I foresee trips to the return counter in my immediate future, erase marks on my checklist, all the while with my next paycheck seeming eons away.  I think what I really may be in dire need of is an early screening of A Charlie Brown Christmas so Linus can remind me once again what Christmas is really all about.

And, maybe Thanksgiving deserves a good hard look for at least one week.  'Tis the season!

Christmas Shopping: On your mark!

I have been in a continual nervous sweat ever since Halloween because it was then that I'd realized that I hadn't started my Christmas shopping yet! 

Call me paranoid, over-prepared, or just plain crazy, but I usually have the bulk of it done by now.  I'm just a poor secretary, you see, so buying a couple things here, a couple things there, starting in October is the best way for me to avoid using that credit card that I'm so close to having paid off after nearly twenty years of trying.

Last night I jumped in feet first after receiving a 20% off coupon for Kohl's in the mail.  Kohl's is a great store and very conveniently located to where I live.  But, Kohl's is also the king of brainwashing.  If you've ever paid full price for something at Kohl's,  you're a sucker (sorry, was trying to be delicate there!)  Every single item in the store is overpriced by a whopping percentage.  That way they can have amazing sales every single week offering you 40-50% off.  You're not going to pay the $40 on the tag for a pair of pajamas.  But, you might pay $20 when you see the huge "50% off!" sign on the rack above it.  (P.S. those jammies are probably actually worth $10.) 

Most of the clothes and housewares at Kohl's are their own signature brands, so they can play the whole mark-up game (I love many of the Kohl's signature brands, however, so if you can find a good sale + coupon combo or wait it out until the clearance rack, you can still get a decent price.) Brand names is where you can really score big at this store.  If you venture into the toy aisle, you'll see that the toys, books and games are all brand name, so the discounts there are sincere (Albeit smaller.  More like 10-20%.)  The selection is smaller than your average department or store toy, only a couple meager aisles, but they have a diverse selection, so if you see what you need you can usually do pretty well.  I got a toy with a retail price of $39.99 yesterday that was on sale for $23.99.  My coupon brought the price down to $19.19.  It's hard to find a more than 50% discount at an actual toy store, so "Go me!"  (Another cheap place you may have never thought of for toys is Big Lots.  So long as you're not looking for key lighting and snooty ambiance in your shopping experience, Big Lots is worth a gander.)

Where Kohl's shopping rules is where the coupons are involved.  Now, the only way to get on the coupon wagon is to sign up for a Kohl's charge, so only those with self-control read ahead.  The coupons they'll mail you can only be used on Kohl's charge card purchases (ie. You can not use the coupon and then pay with cash or debit.)  The idea on their end being that you'll impulsively shove more into your over-sized cart and then pay the bill off in increments, earning them interest on your purchase as well.  Coupons can range between 15-30% off and involve a lottery like thrill of peeling off a secret sticker to reveal what your random discount will be this time around.  (Upset I didn't get 30% off this season, but relieved it was more than 15%.  They've got me suckered too, I guess...)

Set a budget, put that money aside and pay that bill the moment it arrives in the mail.  Or, you can be like a savvy relative of mine who, immediately after using a coupon, will toss her shopping bags into the car turn right back around, march to the service desk, and pay the bill that same day.  No one's getting any interest charges out of this family!

So, with coupon in hand (or purse) I took Kohl's by storm last night.  Holiday music being piped in from above as my soundtrack, I scored gifts for four and somehow rewarded myself with four gifts for myself as well.  This is a Christmas shopping problem with me.  I always feel such pride in checking names off of my list, that I feel I've earned some sort of trophy prize.  Sure, I did need a couple pairs of pants and sweaters for work.  But, if I peeked into my over-stuffed closet with honest eyes, I'd probably realize that "need" may just be another four-letter word in my vocabulary.  (What I really "needed" was some newer pants and sweaters.)

So, today was Target's turn.  No holiday music at Target, just the out-of-tune symphony of toddlers wailing away in their shopping carts. No coupons at Target either, but their sales are pretty reasonable and their clearance even better! 

I got stumped in the toy aisle after seeing this cushy cuddly Joker doll. (?!)  There were two of them lying in a display box together, like a dual-sized coffin, staring up at the ceiling with that evil-making grin frozen in place.  Blech!  Nightmares anyone?

After I recovered from the Joker-as-a-cuddly-bedmate-for-children shock, I was able to check four more people off of my list and I even put my "reward" pair of black boots back on the shelf, if you can believe it!  (I can't.  Although I already own three pairs of tall black boots, and two pairs or short ones.  These ones were medium-height and clearanced out to only $17.98.  Okay, Kim, you did the right thing, don't dwell...)  I did somehow end up with a new hat though.  But, it was only because it was clearanced out to a mere $2.48.  I didn't need a new hat either, but that's just Taco Bell change, and it's ever so slightly cuter than the dozen I already own, so no lectures!

Reaching the almost half-way point in my shopping before Thanksgiving is thrilling!  And, so long as I can keep my own "needs" and trophies out of the picture, the rest of this shopping season should be a breeze. 

Back to Headache Shopping: Part Deux

Back-to-school shopping continued yesterday afternoon.  Things went a little more smoothly this time around  (especially since I was wise enough to do an undies-check before we left the house.)  There's nothing like waiting until Labor Day weekend to finish the back-to-school shopping.  People are running around rabid for no. 2 pencils, driving like toddlers and the parking lots were worse than at Christmas time!

I was also presented with a school supply list that seemed to accommodate the teacher more than the student. (What is a nine-year-old going to do with two packs of Post-it notes and a ream of printer paper?!  I'm surprised his teacher showed the restraint to stop herself before also adding coffee creamer and feminine hygiene products to the list.)  Pickings were slim and he almost ended up with three purple folders and pink post-it notes, until I was clever enough to leave the school supply section and take a trip down the stationary aisle.  Red replaced purple, yellow replaced pink (although we had to settle for star-shaped) and a little boy (who's starting school in a new district this year)'s reputation was saved.  For now, at least.

Picking out shirts proved to be no easy task either.  All the boys wanted to buy were novelty tees.  I had to force one polo and one button down apiece on them!  What's with the snotty t-shirts these days?  I can't believe the sass of some of them.  "My mom THINKS she's in charge!" was being sold in the little boys section. (The girls section was ten-times worse!)  Amazingly it's still the moms shopping for the kids and buying these shirts at this age.  I guess maybe that's proof that she really isn't in charge.  I had to talk older brother out of this purchase (see right) after a middle-of-the-aisle lecture about respecting his siblings.

 

 

The shoe store employees seemed to be the most parasitic in the mall.  Big sis was the only one in need of shoes, but shoe-commission lady kept insisting on wanting to measure the boys feet and sell them socks.  After prying three pairs of heels off of little brother (of the pair pictured on the left, he exclaimed, "Ooh! Are these alligator?!") I decided that maybe sis could shop on her own for a few and the boys could use a bathroom break.  Asking Ms. Shoe-Commission where the nearest facility was, she responded by offering to measure the boys' feet once more. "No really, we just need a bathroom," looking at big bro who's now doing a potty dance, "Close by!"  She gives us overly-elaborate directions that we had already figured out by her first statement, "It's directly beneath this store." She's goes on and on about how to arrive directly beneath the store we were standing in (my correct guess was to take the "down" escalator positioned right outside the door) as big brother's potty-dance had stepped up a notch into a potty-Mambo No. 5.  I hear her mention the word "alcove" and have had enough. Grabbing brothers by the hands I toss off a half-hearted "thank you" and make a break for the escalator before she has to mop up her shoe-sizer.

The restroom, of course, ends up just being a one-seater.  As a dad finally drags his two boys out of the sole commode, my boys rush in taking cuts in front of the two college-aged guys who have already been waiting in line ahead of us.  Fearing a public bowel explosion, I don't even bother to apologize on their behalf.  I do, however, knock on the door repeatedly as one of the young men begins a potty-dance of his own.  I overheard him say to his buddy, "Standing still this long is just killing me!"  I knock-knock-knock again. "Are you almost done boys?"  Big bro, "These things take awhile!" 

Fortunately, my nephews reemerged before I had to direct the dancing twenty-year-old to the nearest potted plant.  Sister found a good deal and surfaced with two pairs of school shoes and I figured this earned us a window-shopping trip to the pet store.

All-in-all, we had some laughs, some close-calls and some budget crunches... but it was a successful day.  Although, I still came home with a mild headache and am in no hurry for Christmas shopping to begin.

Gone in a Flash

Taking pictures is not just a hobby to me. It's my lazy man's diary. It is how I've documented my life from middle school on (save a few missing years in my 20's when I was too cool to stick a camera in anyone's face.)

I remember inheriting my first camera. A used castaway passed down from a family member. I can't even remember the kind, but I remember it using some obscure film type that we had to scour the stores to find. It also used those detachable film cubes, good for four uses only. (One flash per side.) Poof! And, then that instant smell of flash bulb. I can't describe the scent any better than that. Flash bulb scent. I know it when I smell it!

Le Clic, c'est chic ♫

Following that camera, my many 110s. Anyone surviving the 1980's had a 110 at some point, whether they remember it or not. Those flat rectangular shaped ones with the wrist strap. Their film shaped like an flat train car when turned on it's side. Easy to load and they had a new wave built-in flash! (Oooh, aaah!) You merely had to turn on the flash switch and wait for it to stop blinking. In 5-10 minutes you were totally set to go!  My prized 110 being the coveted pink LeClic.  Best gift ever! This picture to the left is actually the Disc version of my LeClic (found the image online), but you can still get the gist... that they were totally rad. (I also had the matching pink mini boom box, but I'll stop boasting now...)

From the 110s, I made the mature decision of moving up to the 36mm. More complex to load, but I could now take 24 or 36 pictures per roll as opposed to 12. Yee haw! From there I eventually hopped (a little late) onto the digital train. With digital came quantity. I can take between 100-200 snapshots on any given day trip. And, up to 50 just on a mere house call. When I went digital, I guess I also went a little picture crazy. And, that's also when I became the Camera Destroyer.

Another one bites the dust...

I didn't move on to digital until about four years ago, if you can believe it. And, that's when this basket began its accumulation. I call this basket my camera graveyard. Today I have moved on to what is either my fourth or fifth digital camera in four years (I've, sadly, lost count at this point.) I don't think of myself as being considerably rough on my personal belongings, but somehow I've been breaking cameras left and right.

Maybe it's an undiagnosed early onset of Parkinson's Disease or something. I notice a couple 35 mms in the basket too, so the problem must date back further than I'd care to admit. (We won't mention the missing members of the basket who were returned to whence they came.) I don't know what make digital cameras so fragile. Maybe whatever sturdy parts once existed to encase a roll of film also served as a safety cage.  No film, no cage?

Sylus 840's last hurrah!

Well, today my latest comrade bit the dust. My beloved Olympus Stylus (same make as my favorite 35mm as well.) It fell from the back deck, never to return to consciousness again. I have to give the chincy-looking thing credit though. This wasn't its first fall. It survived several drops and healings. I've surgically extracted the lens barrel several times. And, have perfected the advanced "palm bopping" technique to do the opposite procedure on many occasion. But, today's blow was fatal (forever documented in the picture to the left) caused its innards to go kablooey once and for all. Never to be resuscitated again.

It's okay though, don't mourn for me. Another camera is already on its way.  I've learned this lesson years ago and have trained myself to buy used. I have little patience for salesmen and like to do thorough research on my own online before such purchases anyhow. Knowing what you're getting into and then buying used because you're (I'm) cheap and you're (I'm) just going to end up breaking it one day, just makes good sense to me. (Plus, your top price limit can either get you something new of lower quality, or something used that would otherwise be above your budget.) I went for the 8X zoom this time. Point and shoot as always. But, switched to a Panasonic for a change this time around (Lumix FH20. And, it's Smurfy blue!)   Hope the dozens of reviews I read pan out!

The worst part of this whole deal is waiting 'til Friday for it to arrive. I'm on a four-day weekend and have no way to document it! I don't think I've gone one weekend since becoming an aunt without flashing a bulb into any given set of young irises. I have field trips planned! I don't know how to function on a day at Greenfield Village without photographic evidence!

I guess I could do what other people do and actually pay attention to the children for once. Instead of having them wander off while I stop to take a picture of the same windmill for the 400th time. Maybe I won't have to listen to them bicker over who gets to use the camera next (to ultimately shoot self-portraits up their own nose hairs.) Maybe, I won't find myself yelling at the five-year old when he tries sneaking fake gang signals into my group portraits... Or yelling at the ones who run off while the self-timer is still flashing.

But, lo, what do I find here in the graveyard basket, but my trusty Olympus 35mm.  I must have moved on while it was still in working order. Batteries still seem fresh. A roll of 24 exposures still in the orange Kodak box. Hmmm...  (To be continued?)