Nothing pisses me off more than a sequence of events that cost me hundreds of dollars.
So, if you don't want to read a rant, then just click your goddamn previous page button or something, because my mind is on fire and I just squeezed a tennis ball so hard I was all like, "fuck you, tennis ball" and jammed my thumb through the damn thing, and I didn't even know that was possible.
As someone who is (1) in debt (2) lives paycheck to paycheck and (3) has the opportunity to save nothing, this is a Big Fucking Deal.
Yesterday I received notice that I overdrew my bank account like two weeks ago. Three times. This means I had less cash than I expected. This means that I must have done it again since the first incidents. About six times. This means that I'm getting charged with every overdraft, and this means that the bank won't feel obligated to tell me for another week and a half, and that means that fucking banks can go assfuck themselves.
And then I got a parking ticket.
So financially, I've just set myself back by about four months.
This was supposed to be my catch-up pay check, the time after Christmas when bills are paid and I have a normal income to save until wedding and bullshit baby shower season (I fucking hate babies, I really, really do, because all they do is whine and eat my dollars, and I don't even have any of my own. Dollars, that is. Or babies. Fuck you, babies) hits this summer, when I spend hundreds of dollars on friends who make double my salary and will never, ever, ever get the chance to spend a return amount on me.
I have anger, obviously, because I'm a fucking idiot.
I just threw my dilapidated tennis ball. It hit the wall, and then improperly bounced back in my direction, and now it's just all crushed and spiritless in the middle of the carpet. Fuck you, carpet. I want my ball back.
Speaking of balls: fuck you, thumb, for ruining my life.
And you, you friends that tell me just to "come out for one beer"? You know very well it doesn't work like that, so stop making me feel guilty for not drinking at the bars or going out to dinner when I'm broken in funds and in pride, and stop wondering why I have no money.
I tried to keep up with your pace for two years, and your weddings and your fucking bachelorette and bachelor parties and your birthdays and your weekends and your Tuesdays and your fucking babies, and I just don't have the funds, and I can't do it anymore because I fucking drank myself into debt.
And now this. If I'd known about it when it happened I wouldn't have gone out to dinner, I wouldn't have agreed to supply the groceries for Fondue Night, I wouldn't have gone out to Second City and I sure as busted tennis balls wouldn't have gotten drunk afterward.
So shut the fuck up and stop yelling inside my head.
I think I can't go to New Orleans anymore. Shit.
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26 comments:
Oh, man, screw the presents. Anyone who expects presents from poor people deserves no presents. If you give anyone a baby present, make it that snot sucker. They'll never ask you for another present again.
For weddings, pick a book from the $5.99 shelf at Barnes and Noble. I refuse to honor registries. I'm not going to do someone's extravagance-shopping just because they've found eternal happiness and I'm all alone in the world.
Go to New Orleans. Ditch the babies and the weddings.
I completely jinxed myself with that parking ticket, as well, because like two days ago I thought, "Man, I'm so glad I haven't gotten a parking ticket in so long."
See? Superstition solidified.
Oh, and Erin: I never, ever, ever purchase from registries. I have this system where I show up to the wedding and steal things from my surroundings to fashion a card and envelope completely unique to me, write them a check, and shove it inside.
It's a thing, now, and people expect me to do it at their weddings, and they're all, "I wonder what Ross is going to wrap our present with?"
Rass/Ross--Go to the bank...talk to them about setting up overdraft protection--not to a teller, but a manager of some sort. Be sweet (too bad you can't drawl, it always helps in situations like this). Ask them if there's some way they can waive at least a portion of these fees. They have the discreion to do that.
As for the presents--screw it...like Erin says.
And I know that this advice is worth exactly what you paid for it...hope you can manage your New Orleans trip.
There is something to be said for a twelve pack and a lap top... and some free MMA fighting on Spike TV.
One time I fought with my bank for an hour over overdraft fees, but here's the thing about banks, they are greedy bastards.
And I rarely go to baby showers and I hated having them. Weddings and baby showers are crazy out of control these days. You can say fuck that shit all you want.
Oh and one time I had fondue night and I made the invite say, "come on over and dip shit..."
and then I took a totally packed bus to lamesville where I got to sit next to the pee guy and finished off the invite with, "let's get dippy with it."
Yeah, I did that!
Nothing you can do about the parking ticket but HIF's right. Go to bank, ask to speak to manager, explain, take responsibility, if you haven't made a habit of it, they will typically reduce or even eliminate the fees.
It's worth a shot right? And tell all your friends who you make stroganoff, what, what, for that they need to bring your bitch ass dinner for the next month, oh, and beer.
PPS - I would totally bring you beer if I lived in Chicago and not KC.
For the record, when Mr. Booms and I come to Chicago, we're bringing you beer and dinner.
I feel for you. I've been there. Damn, I'm this close to being there again. So you have my sympathy.
However, don't risk the wrath of the TBPS - the Tennis Ball Protection Society. Apparently (and I just found this out) tennis balls can be removed from your custody and replaced with golf balls. And it's nigh impossible to put your thumb through one of those.
You MUST come to New Orleans with us...I've got my heart set on it.
If only I could write you off on my taxes, too, I would totally do it.
Are you coming next week to our planning session? I've got a fridge stocked w/PBR and I'll cook you dinner. Or if you would rather us come to your humble abode, I'm all about that, too.
Let me know.
Fuck you fucking parking nazis! and $30 bounced check fees!
Here's what I'd do: put your parking ticket on someone else's car and hope they pay it for you. People don't pay attention.
No more NOLA? shit. We have to think of something.
Here's a list of my suggestions in no particular order:
Doctor up some fake parking tickets and get a P.O. Box and an alias- did I say too much?
Start a chain letter and send out just $6, and end up a billionaire . . .
Raffle off someone's "virginity," then bolt to Belize.
Sell Joaquin Phoenix's chin pubes on ebay.
Seriously, that sucks. Money problems are the worst. That's why I live where I live for the moment. Couldn't deal with my shit and money too. *sigh*
Hang in there.
Dude. Totally sympathise. I just lost my paycheck!!
i can tell you're in pain. But I have to admit, when I read this post I laughed. Especially about babies eating your dollar bills. And when you said, "Fuck you, carpet".
I have totally had these moments, these days, where it seems that there is some big conspiracy in the universe to make me miserable. I don't blame you for resenting the shit out of people who constantly ask you to come to their showers. When is it your turn? I have been there. I have also been on the other side, being the one who the shower is for. And I can tell you that if I had a friend who was in debt up to her eyeballs I would NOT expect a gift. Her presence would be my gift.
And I wouldn't say come out for one beer. I'd say, "Come out and I will buy you as many beers as you need to get drunk and then when you are a sloppy mess I will throw you over my shoulder and take you home.
I'm sorry things are so rough right now. I'm sorry your thumb ruined your life. I hope you're venting helped you feel better.
I mean "your venting". I hate when I make stupid grammatical errors like that. I look like a moron. Oh and call your bank and cry. Whenever I overdraft a few times in the same week (yeah I've done it more than once), I call the bank and cry and they usually only charge me one overdraft fee instead of 3. It could save you like $60.
I hope it helps to know that VH-1 is totally on board with the YoTW and and showed it on their Classic channel last night.
I wet myself with excitement.
Fuck you, weak bladder.
I agree with the crying- I normally feel like an idiot crying, but hey, it can move mountains. Just don't overdo it. I think the trembling lip and looking away for a minute works best. And if they don't cave- let it all out and make those fuckers feel like awkward devils.
A week and a half to notify you? that's fucked up. Like they don't have the technology to send you an email when the transaction is PENDING so you can take care of that shit.
Oh jumping jesus can I feel you. Money sucks. The lack of it sucks hard.
I definitely agree with the others: Go to the bank and throw yourself on their mercy. They often have the ability to waive at least some of the fees, especially if you haven't had them waived before. Could save you a little money at least.
I can't go out drinking tonight either because we are broke as a joke and it's the goddamn beginning of the month and I just want to win the lottery.
Dude. You need to make more money, obviously.non-profits can totally suckit. I mean, thanks for working there, doing the world a favor. But seriously. You don't need to be broke-ass.
My dear, I'm not going to offer you advice about banking and whatnot, because I am far too dumb to comprehend any of that jibber jabber.
But as someone whose credit card was declined at the bar last night, I know your pain. As a drunk on a budget, I usually have at least one flask on me at all times, filled with cheap crap I've learned to tolerate over time (rye whiskey's only $10 a bottle? Let's do this, gross-ass-tasting rye!).
Lastly, make your gifts to others the knowledge that they are in better financial circumstances than you, so effing huzzah to them.
Franklin: Oh, I can drawl. I got like, a stockpile of accents hidden in my larynx. If there's one thing I'm good at that, it's getting drunk, but if there's two things I'm good at, it's getting drunk and voice imitating.
Boomer: That's the plan tonight, beer and laptop, except instead of MMA I'm going with Mark Wahlberg. And if you ever come to Chicago, it's drinking, dinner, and Teen Wolf.
FF: That's the plan. I'll be happy if it can just get cut in half.
Wolf: And golf balls don't bounce as well. Little fuckers.
Bobbay: Whether or not I go, I'm still coming over on Friday. Just for the PBR.
Mount: Yeah. Parking tickets are the devil's whores. And as far as Virgin Raffles, I think I have someone in mind.
Crow: In losing the check, do you also lose the money? Or just like, the physical representation of the money? Either way, it's a shame.
Gwen: I'm glad you find joy in my misery, bitch. No, really. I am. Seriously. This comment is not facetious. I do not want it to come across as such. But it will, won't it? Dammit.
Mount: I can't cry on command. I only cry when I'm hammered and there's no one to fight.
Gypsy: If I win the lottery, I'll share.
Ambiblob: Well, see, it's not that I don't make enough money. It's that I spent money I didn't have. On alcohol. For like five years. And now I'm paying for that.
Post Script to all: No one of them expect presents from me. I know this. But my downfall is that I feel obligated, no matter how hard they pound it into my head that I shouldn't. And I'm not really waiting for "my turn" to get married and make babies, because right now that just totally doesn't appeal to me.
I just want them to give me money.
Pistols: Drunk on a budget is the hardest lifestyle to embrace, other than perhaps that of a teenage suburban guitarist, or a twenty-something one year away from their Trust Fund.
Rassles, I understand your argument that you've drunk yourself into poverty. HOWEVER, there is a paypoint out there that will make it near impossible for you to impoverish yourself with drinking. Get a job at that pay point and your worries are gone.
Except that you'll probably hate your job. But fuck it- you can afford the good stuff. Every night. So it don't matter what you do 9-5. Unless it's picking up dog poo. Or people poo. Gross. No amount of good vodka will make me do that. Well, ALMOST no amount. Goddamnit, I'm a drunk and if I have to scoop poo to stay that way, I'll fucking do it. I'm sorry for swearing all over your little comment space.
This has happened to me three times. I don't care if it's my own fault: the fact that a $2 pop ends up costing $60 (over and over by the time they tell me) is both infuriating and irrational. I finally switched banks.
Hell yeah banks can assfuck themselves.
As for New Orleans everyone I know is down there and Facebooking, "Yo, I'm in NOLA" and I want to kill them all cause I haven't been to Mardi Gras in 20 years...
Hand me gottdamn tennis ball.
I hear you. I'm so boycotting weddings this spring so I can stay afloat seeing as I have no income. Here it is customary to give minimum 100 euros per head at a wedding. So Luigi and I have to come up with 200 euros in addition to travel, fucking clothes, hotel and whatever other bullshit comes along with it.
hi, just started reading our blog. I hate to admit it, but I actually laughed at this one. Not because I think it's funny you are broke, but how you talk about babies and wedding, I feel the same way!
Ambiblob: Well, I'm glad I have such a devotion to PBR. It makes drinking so much easier to afford.
Meagan: I feel like switching banks is pointless, because they're all fucking each other anyway.
Kitty: I've decided to go. Fuck you, financial stability.
Blues: It just drives me nuts. Sons of bitches. Buy me things.
BS and BC: I feel like the world can be most efficiently divided between the people who want babies and the people who want to throw them.
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