Tag Archives: money

My Inner Liam Neeson

4 Jan

Dear Fool Who Stole My Credit Card And Decided to Get An Erotic Massage at The Geisha Spa House in Paris,

You suck.

I mean when I decided to go to the science museum and expand the minds of my kids with the interactive exhibits exploring planetary research stations, Eco Challenges, and the science behind sports I had no idea you were lurking in the shadows of their computer system ready to steal my credit card number.

I’m all for random acts of kindness and picking up the tab every once in a while but I think you’ve misunderstood what generosity means. I totally could have bought you an eclair … a chocolate one at that. But you decided to push the boundaries a little.

I mean someone handling the knots in your deep tissue with elbows and hot stones sounds awesome. I love hot stones but I kind of wanted throw one at your face followed by an elbow. A Muay Thai elbow. That would have been really relaxing for me, actually.

I mean to spend $550 on a massage sounds a little excessive, I mean for fifty bucks you could have gone downtown and had Bertha work the kinks out. But no … you decided to go all out this year. I mean you could have even given a nice tip. But I guess your generosity stopped you there. Didn’t want to steal anymore for a tip, huh? Or perhaps the tip was included. I don’t know. I just know you were really living it up before the New Year got started. I mean it’s 2017 why not go all out, right?

Yeah … you still suck.

And the thing is before I decided to take up meditation and lead a life of Zen and finding happy moments I probably would have gotten all Liam Neeson on you and been like …

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want … other than dirty massages … but what I do know is that I have is a particular set of skills … I will look for you. I will find you and I will kill you.

neeson

Yeah … my inner Liam Neeson would have gotten crazy on you. But the funny thing was I didn’t get crazy. I didn’t freak out about losing all that money. I didn’t curl up in the corner and cry. The credit card people flagged you before you could do any more escargot damage and I imagine the shady places you visit don’t take to kindly to red flags when paying bills. I mean there might be a bruise on your face the size of a hot stone already. A couple stones actually. Who knows?

But having heard this news to start off the New Year could have really sucked for me but it didn’t.  I just shook my head at the thought of you and wished you a painful death as you fell off the Eiffel Tower. I shook my head in disbelief. I shook my head at the inconvenience of your existence.

I shook my head thinking … you suck.

And then I went for a run.

When I came back I thought, this wasn’t a bad experience, this was just good writing material, a story waiting to happen.

Thanks for story. But don’t get too crazy … my inner Liam Neeson isn’t that understanding.

Sincerely,

The Guat.

 

 

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The Things I Do For My Kid …

16 Sep

I didn’t really know how to start the conversation.

I didn’t.

I mean I hate this time of year and being put in this position. So I thought I’d draft something to help me out.

What do you guys think?

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 Image by © Images.com/Corbis

Image by © Images.com/Corbis

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Dear People,

I say people because sometimes this act crosses boundaries and I’m no longer considered to be in the circle of trust. I’m outside of it. Out!

At least for the time being, and I understand. I get it.

I’ve crossed over from regular Guat, to the mom who has to raise funds for her son’s school.

Yeah.

You know the type, the one with two catalogs in her right hand and the clipboard with order form on the left. The one you hope doesn’t walk over to you and asks you to browse the catalog to see if you’re interested in buying something.

That’s me…for the next week that’s who’ve I become and the thing is I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t sign up for this. My son just came home last week with a “special envelope” addressed to the parents of Little Guat. Just like that, no warning, just an open call for you to do your part. Although I felt I already did my part by buying $48 worth of school supplies and sending them with my kid on the first day of school. You know the dreaded classroom list.

I thought I had done my part, but no. No.

There’s more. There’s always more when you’re a parent of a kid in the public school system. I know you know because you’ve been in my shoes and I’ve been in yours.

So let me just get to it. Let me give you my pitch.

I know you’re not Rachel Ray or any of the other Food Network Stars. I know it. I know that you probably don’t need an $18 lime green vegetable spiralizer for zucchini or yellow squash noodles. I know that you could probably grab your 20% coupon from Bed, Bath, & Beyond and get yourself a cheaper set of two-tone mixing bowls for all your baking needs. I know you probably have your free gift with purchase Estee Lauder or Clinique carryall totes and cosmetic bags and don’t need anymore polywoven plastic bags with reinforced bottoms.

I know.

But I have ask.

Things aren’t the way they used to be in the 80s. They’re not. There are no more music or art classes. None. I’m lucky if my kid will get a chance to use watercolors or know what a violin looks like. No room for creativity or the possibility that he’ll blossom into one of the Kennedy Center Honor recipients. I’d probably have to encourage that side of him through private lessons from some cultural center somewhere and shell out some massive bucks.

But they do have a computer center, although no computer teacher.

They do have a librarian on staff, finally. And books. They do have books. But no avenues to express their artistic talents.

And the weird thing is, I used to have these artistic opportunities during my youth, for free. No fundraising required because the schools thought that this was important enough to fund. It was in the budget at the inner city school I attended as a kid. Ms. Levi was my art teacher and Mr. Davidson was my music teacher, I rocked Beethoven on that violin and my calligraphy wasn’t too bad either.

But seeing how my son is in a better neighborhood, I figured he’d have all kinds of opportunities to make bad music on his trumpet, saxophone, guitar, violin, viola or whatever instrument he would decide to choose. I figured he’d be dabbling in all kinds of Picasso and Monet experiments.

I figured it would come included in this Happy Meal of an education, but no. We got no prizes.

So if you’d like to skip your trip to Target and get one of these handy dandy home, kitchen, or personal accessories and be an advocate for The Arts at the same time, duuuuuude you could totally buy something off one of these catalogs.

Thanks for your help.

Sincerely,

The Guat.

Oh! And P.S. If you can’t peruse the catalog, feel free to take thirty minutes away from your computer time on Facebook, YouTube, Vine, Instagram, Twitter and etc. to check the website out I’ve included at the bottom. I totally know you want to check out the wide array of silicone bottle topper sets and fodable duffle bags.

www.mixedbagdesigns.com/?fundraiserid=49645

What do you think? Will my family disown me and friends “de-friend” me on Facebook?

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Don’t Forget to Feed the Dog

22 Jan

She’s a cranky senior citizen now. Barks at her shadow and stares at herself in the mirror just to see if the other dog blinks first. She drives me crazy, but I still love her, even after the incident.

She usually eats twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. Once cup. That’s it. Apparently she overweight. Complete strangers come up to me and say “Wow a dalmatian, haven’t seen one in a while. She’s overweight isn’t she?”

I feel like saying…”well you’re ugly and you don’t hear me saying anything.”

 I got her on some kind of senior citizen dog food with weight maintenance and glucosamine. Suppose to help her function better although I don’t know if it helps her hearing…she’s got selective hearing. Husbands have that too. And on this particular morning they were both exercising that skill.

Life was hectic as always in the morning when trying to get two kids ready to leave the house. Brushing teeth, combing hair, breakfast time, clear the table, change diaper, prepare bottles, potty break, change of clothes, more diapers, pack the snacks, walk the dog, another potty break, and fix the diaper bag. Ready to go out the door. I check the dinner table and make sure the computer is off. I do a double-take as I got some cash on the table. I was going to put it in my wallet, but decided to leave it at home. You know the rule with cash…the more you got in your wallet the more you spend. Then at the end of the day you open your wallet find a lonely George Washington and say what the hell happened?

So I left the cash on the computer. Three hundred-dollar bills, two fifties, four twenties, and three dollar bills. We had just cashed a check and were going to deposit the funds in the bank, but it was a Sunday…so we thought we’d wait.

Off I went on my adventure with the kids, returning in time for lunch. I place the diaper bag on the table and see the bills on the floor. No money on the table. It’s scattered. I must have dropped it while rushing out the door. I find two hundreds, two fifties, four twenties and three dollars.

Crap!

Where’s the other hundred? I’ve been known to lose money…falling out of my jacket pocket, dropping it as I pull the keys out of my backpack, falling out of a hole in a plastic grocery bag. It’s all been done and lost. And this time I thought I did it again. 

As I’m searching under the table and in between the couch cushions, my husband walks in and asks me what I’m trying to find. I explain I’ve dropped one of the bills and I’m just trying to look for it.

“Oh. Man. Not again!”

“Dude. Just help me look.”

As we’re both in search of the money the dog gets up and starts sniffing around.  She’s in dire need of a Tic Tac.

“Ugh. Did you feed the dog?”

“I thought you fed her.”

“No.”

“No wonder she’s so friendly.”

“No wonder her breath smells.”

My husband walks over to her food canister, but stops midway. He sees something. Our dog stands at her dog bowl and starts whimpering.

“Dude. I thought you were going to feed her.”

He walks over to the dog bed and sees a crumpled up bill.

“I found it!”

I smile and turn to look at him. He’s not smiling

“Well at least half of it.”

My Dog...looks guilty right?

We both stare at the dog…out of all those bills this bitch decides to eat the hundred-dollar bill. What is that! There were only three of them. She doesn’t eat the twenties or the ones, but hunderd-dollar bill. I’m trying to get out of this living arrangement here at my parents and she decides to have a hundred-dollar appetizer.  Well…fifty I guess.
 

We both stare at the dog. I open the canister, my husband pours in one-two-three-four…four cups of food. Screw the weight maintenance. This bill is coming out.

And now I wait.

 

 

 

The Coupon Lady

13 Jan
coupon lady!

Image by dusty_pen via Flickr

You go to the grocery store, thinking it’s going to be in- and-out. A quick trip, possibly during halftime, hoping to make it back before the second half begins. You head to the shortest line hoping you get there before the senior citizen with the packed cart. You make it to the conveyor belt and then you see her … ugh … and wince … it’s The Coupon Lady. Have you met this bitch with her multiple transactions and three-ring binder of coupons?

All I wanted to do was pay for my pretzels and fermented beverages and get back to the game. By the time I looked at the other lines they were full with moms, dads, 9-to-5 suits who just got off work and are picking up the bare essentials for tonight’s dinner. I had no choice but to stand there by the KitKats and People en Espanol and pretend to have patience and not roll my eyes. I got back with six minutes left in the fourth quarter. So l told myself…never again will you come during food-traffic time.

The next time I’ll go on a Wednesday at noon. But before this little trip to the grocery store I happen to run into something on The Learning Channel…Extreme Couponing. Have you seen this? These chicks leave with three-weeks worth of groceries and five boxes of diapers for a dollar nineteen.

Dude.

These women mastered the art of the double coupon. But the thing is they don’t even use half of the stuff. It’s kept in their Costco-size pantries or garages to live a happy shelf life. I mean who eats that much ketchup? I was hoping that some of them donate to food banks or shelters, but they look like crazy hoarders.

Dude. The Learning Channel educates. I looked at the paper, daily circulars, and the internet. I did my grocery homework that week.

Once prepared, I decided to go to the grocery store in the middle of the day and shop for the week. I took my time. Got in line and started unpacking my stuff, made sure I got my pretzels and beverages with that extra hops flavor and something from Belgium just as a treat. Before I knew it I was separating my food groups, using my club card and giving the checker some of manufacture coupons and internet coupons.

I was not an extreme couponer at all, more like a novice with training wheels. I felt proud for saving a couple of bucks. I saw the total winding down, and as I turned around, I saw it … A single man in worn-out jeans holding a Hungry Man dinner and Gatorade.

Crap!

I’d become the Coupon Lady during the lunch rush.

He gave me the look. No … not the Coupon Lady … but the Coupon Lady Bitch with multiple transactions and two kids, one of the verge of a meltdown.

Duuuuuuuuuude.