Showing posts with label credit card interest rate hikes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label credit card interest rate hikes. Show all posts

Whining Wednesday or as my car might tag me these days STINKEEGRL


Whine 1 - Our credit card company raised our interest rate to something like 26 gazillion for absolutely no reason.

(well, no reason that has anything to do with us anyway)

Confidential to Chase - instead of the minimum payment this month, I'll be mailing in a bag of used wine corks and an autographed doodle of a sad face, hope that is o.k.

Whine 2 - About a month ago I started finding these strange moth things in my studio and bedroom (which is directly over the studio). At first it was random enough to not bother me, but then one night last week, we had two of these little creatures flying into the bedroom lights.

They don't bite (thankfully) and are not very smart or fast-moving, but you cannot squash them because they emit some foul smelling substance when you do.

I had never even heard of such critters and admit I had flattened a couple and didn't notice any odd smell before hubby screamed, "Stop!" -

(I was about to flatten one with his beloved Farmer's Almanac)

and then he told me the 'stinkbug story'.

They are also known as shieldbugs and if George had called them shield bugs (or if they had been a pretty green like shown here instead of looking like creepy gray alien spaceships) I might not be as freaked out. I have moved everything in both rooms, checked all the window cracks and can't figure out how they are getting in.

Hubby says, "maybe they are not getting in because they are already in", which really freaked me out and has me shining a flashlight into my boots before putting my feet in them every morning.

We hate the idea of pesticides and exterminators, but we may have to take some kind of action soon.

(or start a little stink-bug circus sideshow to pay off Chase)

Whine 3 - My memory is totally disappearing.

When I'm driving and think of an idea for a project or blog post (or whine), I have a tendency to write down a key word on a snippet of paper

(yes, I know how dangerous this is ... mainly because I could spill my scalding hot coffee and that would interrupt my cell phone conversation)

and then write the whole thing down later. This morning I found a gas receipt from Friday on which I had scribbled:

Hipster
Chess
That guy's feet

If anyone has any idea what the hell I was thinking, please contact me.

Whine 4 - Vanity license plates have taken over New Jersey - neighbors, friends, everyone is feeling the need to tell me a little something about themselves with their car tags. I have never understood why anyone would pay additional money to outfit their Ford Taurus with a "UGOGURL" license plate.

I think they are just plain yucky.

(if you have a really cool one, let's hear about it, maybe you can change my mind)


Mainly there are 3 reasons I would never have one:

Hit. And. Run.

If someone remembers seeing a light blue Escape in the vicinity, well, that could be just about anybody, but I guarantee some meddling eagle-eyed eyewitness would recall a "CORKYMUM" or an "UPCYCLEGRL" mowing down that Scout troop.

P.S. To clarify, I don't actually talk and drive as this is illegal in New Jersey.

(and, no one calls me anyway)

Whine 5 - Hubby and I recently visited an 84 year old neighbor to check out his amazingly impressive coin collection. He also has quite the library although 99% of the shelves are filled with books related to the value of coins. We noticed at the far right of the middle shelf a gigundo tome titled, "Secrets to Great Sex" and right beside it was a smaller book called, "Guide to Better Public Speaking".

At first we were a bit shocked,

(I mean, we didn't know he did any public speaking)

but then it all began to make sense, because if I were 84 and still having sex

(and I mean anything even slightly involving friction with another person who was not my paid caregiver)

I would tell absolutely everyone about it.

Guy behind counter: "May I help you?"
Me: "I am 84 and am still having sex. Yes, that kind of sex."
Guy behind counter: "This is the post office."
Me: "A book of stamps, please."

Then I would hobble over to my SXYGRNDMA car and drive home to train my stinkbugs.