05.14.12

Monday Dare: Cha-ching, bitches

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the full list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Don’t lose my shirt by trying to save some dough.

I like to save money. I also like to spend money. So I guess those two things cancel each other out. Probably not evenly since I spend a lot more money than I manage to save, but what is it those wise people say about progress? The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

I’ve also heard people say Everything happens for a reason. But sometimes things happen because you’re stupid and make bad choices.

When I try to save money by clipping coupons, both adages run through my head simultaneously. It gets confusing at times because the words tend to mesh together, and I’m left with a single quote that makes no sense.

A while back, I decided to start saving money by clipping coupons. It seemed like a smart move. Who doesn’t want to take home TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS WORTH OF GROCERIES FOR A MERE THIRTY SEVEN CENTS?

Because I’m all about committing fully to a new endeavor, I decided to do this coupon clipping The Right Way. Stuff all my coupons in a miniature accordion folder from the Dollar Store? Oh, no ma’am, that’s not the way sanity works in this house. I invested $24.99 for a deluxe coupon binder with a velcro closure. And another $18.58 for see-through storage pages with special coupon-sized vertical compartments. Then another $18.58 for pages with HORIZONTAL compartments. I mean, really, can I be bothered to tilt my head forty-five degrees to read the wording on a coupon when I can BAM have everything in a quick and easy-to-read layout?

Upon receipt of the velcro binder, I felt it needed a personalized touch. So I wrote CHA-CHING, BITCH in large block letters on the cover with a black Sharpie. I admired my handiwork for a whole afternoon before it dawned on me that, since I’m Asian, the phrase looked kind of racist, especially if you didn’t notice the comma right away. I spent a good eight minutes coloring in most of the cover with the same Sharpie. Side note: That Sharpie smell is motherfucking strong. I think I got high a little bit.

I spent a whole afternoon carefully perusing the Sunday newspaper for deals and steals. It was fun at first, deciding which categories I should place each coupon, cut to perfection with a heavy-duty paper trimmer (another $26.00). After fifteen minutes, I got tired and started stuffing everything in the “Non-Perishable Boxed Groceries” section.

By the time I actually made my way to the store, my eyes hurt from the strain of reading so much goddamn fine print, my senses were still a little dull from the Sharpie high, and my coupons were a mess because everything was in one section.

I saved a grand total of seven dollars. Well, actually, it was more like $6.75, but I’m rounding because I think I deserve that much.

Clearly, I’m doing this all wrong. But I’m willing to give it another go because my initial investment of $88.15 for the supplies still haunts me at night.

Do you clip coupons? Any tips, tricks, or secrets of the trade? Or…coupon horror stories? I suspect there are some out there.

P.S. Do you Facebook? Me too. Let’s get all friendly and shit on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page.
image via blueq.com

May 14, 2012
04.23.12

Monday Dare: To the person who stole my Taco Bell Gordita Savings Fund

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. You can click on the link if you’d like to see the complete list of Monday Dares or learn more about its origin.

This week: Vent

The ashtray in my car used be a plain ol’ Spare Change Catch-all. Then, I watched a Tony Robbins PBS special about how you have to call out intentions in your life to make them happen, so I started calling the ashtray my Dreams Start Here Fund. THEN, I got wind of some people who were doing vision boards and such, and I knew that I really had to commit to something, lock it down, and the universe would mysteriously align. That’s when I started to get specific about my hopes, dreams, and desires in life.

Hence, the Taco Bell Gordita Fund was born.

I could tell it was the right decision because the very next day, I found a shiny nickel laying on the floor outside of a Forever 21. As I bent down to pick it up and clean it off with my hot breath, I felt like a Greater Force was winking at me from above and whispering, “Here’s a little something to get you started.” It was clear that the Universe wanted me to experience the warm pillowly flatbread covered in a melted three-cheese blend.

Occasionally, I would slide back the ashtray cover and eyeball the slowly growing fortune at stoplights. I’m not good at eyeballing (or “guesstimating” I think is the official term) because once, I was at my daughter’s school fair, and I had to guesstimate the number of gumballs in a really large jar. I guessed 73 but there were actually 991 gumballs in there. A cloud of gloom settled over me after they announced the 9-year-old winner, because I had already thought about all the ways I could enjoy the gum in my day-to-day life.

Sometimes, driving by the Taco Bell near my neighborhood, I wouldn’t look at it directly because some emotions would well up that I didn’t know how to process. Instead, I would give it a quick sideways glance and say out loud, “I’m coming back for you. Wait for me.”

Well, the important thing to know about my Taco Bell Gordita Fund is that someone stole it over the weekend.

That’s probably what I should have started with now that I think about it, but obviously, the shock of the situation has done a number on me, and I just needed to ramble for a little bit, let it out, tell you where I was coming from….you know how it goes.

Someone broke into my car over the weekend and stole almost everything of value. I say *almost* because luckily, they left one important thing behind. An item with no real price tag because it’s priceless to me:

My autographed Kenny G CD that my best girlfriend had The Master sign after one of his concerts.

Criminy, I am really filled with a lot of hate today as I obsess over the different things the thief is doing with MY stuff. What is he buying with the $173 I had left on my Toys R Us gift card? What kind of coffee is she enjoying with my Starbucks gift card? Will this person be using my iPod to house the entire collection of Demi Lovato’s music? Will my Taco Bell Gordita Fund unknowingly pay for bus fare to other neighborhoods so that this motherfucker’s crime spree can continue?

Have I unknowingly supplied a monster with the means to perpetuate a life of evil? Does this make me an accessory to a crime?

In therapy, they tell you that in order to get closure, you need to directly address the person who did you wrong, and if they happen to be dead, then a letter is the next best thing. I talked about my letter idea at the dinner table last night, and Cal was concerned for me because she thought there was a high likelihood that whoever stole my hopes and dreams probably doesn’t read this blog. I thanked her for Keeping It Real and told her that she had a good point. I guess this letter will have to be more about venting and finding some peace rather than a call to action for the perpetrator to paypal me $1.63 at flourishinprogress at gmail dot com.

DEAR HEY THIEF,

YOU OWE ME A FUCKING GORDITA. I’M DECLARING THUG WAR ON YOU.
AND YOU LEFT MY KENNY G CD?! DID YOU KNOW THAT IT WAS AUTOGRAPHED?

I HOPE THE REGRET KEEPS YOU UP AT NIGHT.

___
Have you ever been the victim of theft?

12/30/12 Update: BUMMER. It looks like all comments still haven’t transferred over from the recent Blogger to WordPress migration. Don’t worry, guys. I got this.

P.S. I’ll be posting some angry thug life thoughts on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page this week. “Like” the page to watch my probable downward spiral.
image via perpetualkid.com

April 23, 2012