Welp! Yesterday was my birthday. I'm 27 now. And this year...I'm actually fine with it. I haven't been okay with my new age since I turned 22. But this year? Totally taking it in stride. This is for three reasons:
1. I've come to grips with the fact that I'm in my "late twenties", and as far as that goes, 27 seems young and spritely.
2. From what everyone says (and what I've seen firsthand), your thirties are when you come into your own and really figure out who you are and what you're doing. And I would like to know both of those things. So I don't mind getting closer to that.
3. It's the final year of my, and everyone's lives. Because the world will end on my birthday next year, and there are crappy Web 1.0 websites to prove it.
This year has been interesting. It started out mind-numbingly dull. This caused me to hitch up my bootstraps (or whatever) and start adventuring. I took improv classes, comedy writing classes, and then moved across the country. Which, considering my awkward neuroses, basically means it's been a year of self-doubt.
Curious about how I felt this time last year, I checked out my birthday blog entry for 2010. What I found was a list of goals. Since I wrote that list, I've expanded the goals to a Life List, which has grown to 75 since I posted it. But the first list of goals were things I was hoping to do within 2 years. I'm now halfway through those two years, so I thought I'd revisit the list. New comments are in italics.
Emily's List Of Young People Goals:
Self-Betterment
-Learn how to knit (Hmm. I started to crochet again but never counted my stitches and things went downhill from there. But there's a ball of yarn on my dresser, ever reminding me to pick it up again. Verdict: probable.)
-Take beginner photography classes, then take good photos with a good camera (I'm partway to completing this goal. I bought a Groupon for a class that doesn't expire until May. Problem is: still don't have a camera.)
-Improv classes (I did this one! I did this one! And I want to keep doing it!)
-Sculpting classes (I haven't done this one but I'd still like to. Problem is, I'd rather keep doing improv/comedy related classes. My Ghost fantasies may have to wait a while.)
-Dance classes (BAH ha ha ha ha ha....oh, ME.)
Travel
-Go to Scotland, find your ancestor's castle. (See, the problem with a lot of stuff on this list is that I didn't know what a precarious position my job was in at the time. I was running on the assumption that I had JUST been hired and there was no way we would lose the account and I would be laid off. Silly Emily. So trusting.)
-Go to Italy, eat a lot of pasta and cream. (I mean, these things are definitely on the list. But they probably won't be happening as quickly as my adorable little hopeful heart had wanted.)
-Go to San Francisco--Francisco! That's fun to say. (Well I can certainly check this one off the list with great aplomb.)
Work
-Go on a production shoot outside of Chicago
-Get promoted, earn what I think I deserve
-Write an ad that everyone loves
(................................................sigh.)
Other
-Pay off a big student loan chunk (OR defer your loans because you're unemployed. SIMILAR.)
-Buy a car (kcchhh...pfff...shah....)
-Become a roller skater (The more I think about this one, the more I fear falling and breaking my arms and knees. Also, now that I'm in San Francisco, the amount of hills makes this one a lot less likely. Sorry, 26-year-old me, I think this one is done-zo.)
-Be more stylish (I'm still determined that this will happen for me one day. I'll have money and I'll buy clothes from SUPER fancy places, like the Gap and Nordstrom. I'll have an infinity scarf that'll look really cute on me and I'll wear skirts and just generally look more like Zooey Deschanel.)
-Make more Julia Child recipes (Hmm. I STILL haven't done this yet. I just need to face my fears and channel my inner Julie/Julia.)
-Find an apartment with a reading nook for weekends--and then read on the weekends. (Well, I wouldn't say I have a "nook" but I do have bay windows? Which is closer? I don't read on the weekends but that is changing TODAY my friends. TODAY. Or tomorrow, or sometime soon.)
So all in all, I think I'm generally still on the right track. An actual income will help me accomplish a lot more of these. The question is: what will I accomplish in the next year? You know, before the world ends?
Showing posts with label Money Matters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Money Matters. Show all posts
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
You Miss Your Old Familiar Friends
You guys all appreciate stories about my ever-approaching demise, right? Yes? Good? On we go.
All my dreams have come true: our stuff arrives tomorrow. "But, Emily! I thought you said you'd get 2 days notice before your stuff arrived!"
...
.....
.........
............
.................DIDN'T I?!
Well, in true "all moving companies are a bunch of assholes and there's nothing you can do about it" fashion, my driver called to inform me that I had less than 24 hours to get my affairs in order, and that he would be needing a shuttle truck (an additional $350 minimum charge) since he was sure he wouldn't be able to drive his 18-wheeler through the streets of San Francisco.
................WOULDN'T YOU?!
I started calling around to all the official city numbers I could muster. I was assured that the man could drive his truck down the necessary roads. I called him back to tell him this. He told me to call the moving company because he's done it before and gotten ticketed. FINE. I called the company. Are you grasping the number of phone calls I made today yet?
Once I assured the manager that I had all the maps and the phone numbers the driver needed to ensure a good route, he started giving stuff like "well aren't there a lot of hills?" and "you're really close to the ocean" (Side note: WHAT now?!) and "he needs a place to park" and SOOOOO many excuses, it makes me wonder if these semi trucks ever get to their destinations. Like, unless you actually live ON the highway--like, ON IT--how does a 70' truck EVER deliver your stuff to your home? How? I have no idea. None.
I called 311 about bagging a few meters so the man and his beloved truck could park. They told me I needed over 24 hours notice. "YES," I told them. "That would have been LOVELY, wouldn't it?" The officer told me that what I COULD do was just get a bunch of friends to park in the metered spots until the truck came, and then have them move. I wanted to sob to the woman, "But I HAVEN'T any friends anymore!" (When you get really overdramatic, you have to talk like Amy March from Little Women, by the way.) "I've deserted them in their wintry time of need!" I'll tell you, if absence makes the heart grow fonder, my lady friends have become superheroes in my mind. They'll do anything for me now that we're apart. Adrienne would have parked there all night for me! Laura would have parked sideways and DARED anyone to complain about it. Michelle probably would have just laid across the parking spots! And Jane would...well, she would have come with hummus to keep everyone's cars company at the very least!
Oh my god, I just had a genius idea for a comic book and it may or may not involve my friends deflecting lasers with their chest plates.
So no, Officer. I do not have anyone to help me with my ketchup/catsup problem.
All of these issues, plus a few calls made by Joe and between me and Joe in which I sobbed more or less uncontrollably into the phone, took all freakin' day. With little conclusion. We will likely be paying an amount of money (in cash) the likes of which I always thought I would pay someone someday, just while adjusting my monocle and top hat.
Oh but wait. Cash. Right. And how I need to have that by tomorrow. Hmm, that's interesting. And how my bank isn't in California. Yes yes, I see the issue now.
Well I've been needing to switch my money to a bank out here. And considering all the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad banks out there, I thought I'd do the hippie thing and join a Credit Union. I'm still unsure of exactly how Credit Unions function. But all I know is: they aren't mean banks that do mean things with your money. Okay, cool. I'll take a hundred. A hundred Credit Unions.
After all this dealing with people who are hell-bent on taking every penny they can squeeze from me, I headed over to switch my account and take out some money.
To understand my emotions upon entering the building, please watch the following:
There were actually a couple people applying to open new accounts at the same time, so a man took all of us and explained the basis of what a Credit Union is and how it works and where to find ATMs and all this.
He was...the most wonderful, adorable 30-something gay man I have ever met. He was just so freakin' cheerful. And I say again, not fake cheerful in order to get something. He was legitimately happy. Like he hadn't just spent the last 6 hours on the phone, fretting about how to park a semi on a six-lane residential street. He took out his own debit card to show us how he'd customized it with a picture of his dog. And he said things like "Let's be frank. My name's actually Carl but...sorry, stupid joke." And when he told us there was a $5 fee to sign up, he actually APOLOGIZED about it. It took every ouce of will power in my loins not to jump wholly, trustingly, into his arms, Dance Of Joy style.
Later, I went one-on-one with another guy to actually open an account. Still untrusting about hidden fees, I ripped open a fun-size M&Ms bag on his desk and started popping them like House pops Vicodin, only with slightly less scruff and to a calmer effect. Yes, I am a stress eater. I don't need your judgement, I only need your chocolate. But the guy assured me that there were no hidden fees. He also assured me that he couldn't give me the cash I needed to pay my movers. And he sent me on my way. I took an extra bag of chocolate Vicodin for the road.
So ONCE AGAIN, here I am, stuck without a bank and with maximum withdrawal limits. I'm going to try with a real bank tomorrow, and Joe can take out a bit, too. So it's not the end of the world, but it was just one of those icing on the cake moments you really love.
It was one of those days that, despite the calming affects of the Credit Union, when I got home and saw a note by the elevator that our new washer/dryers now only use h.e. soap, I threw myself face-first against the wall and pounded on it, screaming, "WHY, GOD, WHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!" I wish it was a day ending with an ANTM potluck or a wine and cheese gathering or an Office marathon. It would have been nice to end the day laying on the floor with you guys around me, swearing to the high heavens about my woes and telling me how correct (and how pretty) I am.
And finally, I leave you with The Oatmeal, who put my day's emotional spiral into perfect words.
See you guys on the other side of Stuff-Having and Money-Haven'ting.
All my dreams have come true: our stuff arrives tomorrow. "But, Emily! I thought you said you'd get 2 days notice before your stuff arrived!"
...
.....
.........
............
.................DIDN'T I?!
Well, in true "all moving companies are a bunch of assholes and there's nothing you can do about it" fashion, my driver called to inform me that I had less than 24 hours to get my affairs in order, and that he would be needing a shuttle truck (an additional $350 minimum charge) since he was sure he wouldn't be able to drive his 18-wheeler through the streets of San Francisco.
................WOULDN'T YOU?!
I started calling around to all the official city numbers I could muster. I was assured that the man could drive his truck down the necessary roads. I called him back to tell him this. He told me to call the moving company because he's done it before and gotten ticketed. FINE. I called the company. Are you grasping the number of phone calls I made today yet?
Once I assured the manager that I had all the maps and the phone numbers the driver needed to ensure a good route, he started giving stuff like "well aren't there a lot of hills?" and "you're really close to the ocean" (Side note: WHAT now?!) and "he needs a place to park" and SOOOOO many excuses, it makes me wonder if these semi trucks ever get to their destinations. Like, unless you actually live ON the highway--like, ON IT--how does a 70' truck EVER deliver your stuff to your home? How? I have no idea. None.
I called 311 about bagging a few meters so the man and his beloved truck could park. They told me I needed over 24 hours notice. "YES," I told them. "That would have been LOVELY, wouldn't it?" The officer told me that what I COULD do was just get a bunch of friends to park in the metered spots until the truck came, and then have them move. I wanted to sob to the woman, "But I HAVEN'T any friends anymore!" (When you get really overdramatic, you have to talk like Amy March from Little Women, by the way.) "I've deserted them in their wintry time of need!" I'll tell you, if absence makes the heart grow fonder, my lady friends have become superheroes in my mind. They'll do anything for me now that we're apart. Adrienne would have parked there all night for me! Laura would have parked sideways and DARED anyone to complain about it. Michelle probably would have just laid across the parking spots! And Jane would...well, she would have come with hummus to keep everyone's cars company at the very least!
Oh my god, I just had a genius idea for a comic book and it may or may not involve my friends deflecting lasers with their chest plates.
So no, Officer. I do not have anyone to help me with my ketchup/catsup problem.
All of these issues, plus a few calls made by Joe and between me and Joe in which I sobbed more or less uncontrollably into the phone, took all freakin' day. With little conclusion. We will likely be paying an amount of money (in cash) the likes of which I always thought I would pay someone someday, just while adjusting my monocle and top hat.
Oh but wait. Cash. Right. And how I need to have that by tomorrow. Hmm, that's interesting. And how my bank isn't in California. Yes yes, I see the issue now.
Well I've been needing to switch my money to a bank out here. And considering all the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad banks out there, I thought I'd do the hippie thing and join a Credit Union. I'm still unsure of exactly how Credit Unions function. But all I know is: they aren't mean banks that do mean things with your money. Okay, cool. I'll take a hundred. A hundred Credit Unions.
After all this dealing with people who are hell-bent on taking every penny they can squeeze from me, I headed over to switch my account and take out some money.
To understand my emotions upon entering the building, please watch the following:
There were actually a couple people applying to open new accounts at the same time, so a man took all of us and explained the basis of what a Credit Union is and how it works and where to find ATMs and all this.
He was...the most wonderful, adorable 30-something gay man I have ever met. He was just so freakin' cheerful. And I say again, not fake cheerful in order to get something. He was legitimately happy. Like he hadn't just spent the last 6 hours on the phone, fretting about how to park a semi on a six-lane residential street. He took out his own debit card to show us how he'd customized it with a picture of his dog. And he said things like "Let's be frank. My name's actually Carl but...sorry, stupid joke." And when he told us there was a $5 fee to sign up, he actually APOLOGIZED about it. It took every ouce of will power in my loins not to jump wholly, trustingly, into his arms, Dance Of Joy style.
Later, I went one-on-one with another guy to actually open an account. Still untrusting about hidden fees, I ripped open a fun-size M&Ms bag on his desk and started popping them like House pops Vicodin, only with slightly less scruff and to a calmer effect. Yes, I am a stress eater. I don't need your judgement, I only need your chocolate. But the guy assured me that there were no hidden fees. He also assured me that he couldn't give me the cash I needed to pay my movers. And he sent me on my way. I took an extra bag of chocolate Vicodin for the road.
So ONCE AGAIN, here I am, stuck without a bank and with maximum withdrawal limits. I'm going to try with a real bank tomorrow, and Joe can take out a bit, too. So it's not the end of the world, but it was just one of those icing on the cake moments you really love.
It was one of those days that, despite the calming affects of the Credit Union, when I got home and saw a note by the elevator that our new washer/dryers now only use h.e. soap, I threw myself face-first against the wall and pounded on it, screaming, "WHY, GOD, WHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!" I wish it was a day ending with an ANTM potluck or a wine and cheese gathering or an Office marathon. It would have been nice to end the day laying on the floor with you guys around me, swearing to the high heavens about my woes and telling me how correct (and how pretty) I am.
And finally, I leave you with The Oatmeal, who put my day's emotional spiral into perfect words.
See you guys on the other side of Stuff-Having and Money-Haven'ting.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
My Own Good Fortune
My fortune cookie just informed me that I will inherit a large sum of money.
Reasons why this is important:
1. It's been a long time since a fortune cookie has given me an actual fortune and not told me in so many words that I am "well-liked."
2. I'm pretty sure I've gotten this fortune before. Which means it HAS to be true, right?? And not that they recycle the same general blather to multiple restaurants?
3. I don't have anyone from whom to inherit a large sum of money (oh EXCUSE me, my family is peopled with hard-working, Main Street Americans who came to this country on the Mayflower with nothing but a dream and a fear of witches, so why don't you BACK THE HELL OFF) but if Gilmore Girls is anything like real life--and I'm almost positive that it is--there is always a possibility that my spunky-yet-responsible attitude will land me into piles and piles of money that I hardly worked for. So there's THAT.
4. The Dream House I created for an assignment in the 3rd grade had a "Gladiators"-style ceiling crawler (At first I googled "Gladiators harness". I do not suggest you do this.) which led into a Scrooge McDuck room full of money for me to swim through. A) Can you tell that my childhood imagination often fell just short of pure plagiarism? and B) This is still one of my dream rooms, physics of metal coins be damned! And when I inherit a large sum of money, why YES I believe I WILL be making that happen.
(PS. That fortune cookie is from Natalie Dee. Go to her.)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
How To Cancel a Free Subscription (Because You Just Found Out Your Boyfriend Owes the Government Enough Money To Buy Iceland)
Let's get one major thing out in the open here. Tom Hanks has a Twitter account which he updates with behind-the-scenes of his current project. You're welcome, America.
So! What have I been up to lately? Let's see it in list form!
-Staying at my boyfriend's apartment
-Making every meal using my slow cooker for some strange but delicious reason
-Reading Harry Potter 7 again as if Rupert Grint's life depends on it (It might.)
-Looking for an apartment for next month
Joe and I saw two apartments yesterday that we loved. I don't want to jinx it before the paperwork goes through but we are very hopeful about one in particular. SECRETS!!
Spending the day talking about finances and moving in and paperwork may have been the least romantic day in my entire life. By bedtime, I was starting to have a bit of a panic attack. Joe had to calm me down with a thorough eyebrow massage (Oh I'm sorry, you've never had one? I pity you.) I've never really known exactly how much money Joe has. All I knew was "not a ton + student loans" and that was fine. Obviously I am not one of those girls who requires a man with money. As long as we can afford $3 bottles of wine and the occasional cheeseburger, what else can a girl ask for?
Well after a credit check and an application asking exactly how much money is in our checking accounts (Hi. That is a terrifying thing to put on paper.) We now know the ins and outs of one another's financial situation. And it is grim. Hence the necessary eyebrow massage. Christ, I may need another one just thinking about it.
What I'd really like to talk to you about is the monstrocity of Free Credit Schmeport Dot Com. For one of our applications, we had to get the report ourselves. I went to this site because I felt like it was legit, and didn't want to just be giving all my info around willy-nilly. I want some stupid guy with curly hair, a guitar and a jingle to look at my credit score.
FUN FACT! There is nothing free about Free Credit Schmeport Dot Com. Here's how they get you:
Step 1. You actually have to pay 1 dollar to get the report for some bullshit reason that is legally not a lie, but for all intents and purposes, is actually a lie. Something about the government. The dollar goes to charity. Whatever. The real reason they charge you the dollar is...
Step 2. So that you give them your credit card info. It's just a dollar. It's for charity. Right? WRONG!
Step 3. You are signed up for a free 7-9 day trial (which makes no sense already and I smell a bigger pile of bullshit off in the distance) which, once that is over, will automatically become a paid membership of $15 a month unless you CALL and cancel.
Step 4. Oh you better believe I will be calling to cancel. Ring Ring! Ring Ring!
Step 5. Hello, welcome to Foreign Call Center Where People With Accents Are Frustratingly Hard To Understand And Make You Want To Say F*ck It And Pay The Damn $15 Instead, may I help you?
Step 6. Yes I'd like to cancel my membership.
Step 7. Why did you get your report in the first place?
Step 8. None of your freakin' beeswax, LADY.
Step 9. Did you know that with our service, you get a million awesome things?
Step 10. I do? Gee! What about--NO! Stop trying to confuse me. I want to quit the gym/bank/website.
Step 11. Okay, we can do that. But you could also do this other thing for $15.
Step 12. NO!!! I WANT TO QUIT YOU!!!
Step 13. Alright Ms. Sheffar [???]. We've cancelled your membership.
Step 14. You hang up. You worry.
And that's it! If you, too, would like to know your credit score, just go to the site and get your score for "free" in just fourteen easy steps! Don't delay, call now!
So! What have I been up to lately? Let's see it in list form!
-Staying at my boyfriend's apartment
-Making every meal using my slow cooker for some strange but delicious reason
-Reading Harry Potter 7 again as if Rupert Grint's life depends on it (It might.)
-Looking for an apartment for next month
Joe and I saw two apartments yesterday that we loved. I don't want to jinx it before the paperwork goes through but we are very hopeful about one in particular. SECRETS!!
Spending the day talking about finances and moving in and paperwork may have been the least romantic day in my entire life. By bedtime, I was starting to have a bit of a panic attack. Joe had to calm me down with a thorough eyebrow massage (Oh I'm sorry, you've never had one? I pity you.) I've never really known exactly how much money Joe has. All I knew was "not a ton + student loans" and that was fine. Obviously I am not one of those girls who requires a man with money. As long as we can afford $3 bottles of wine and the occasional cheeseburger, what else can a girl ask for?
Well after a credit check and an application asking exactly how much money is in our checking accounts (Hi. That is a terrifying thing to put on paper.) We now know the ins and outs of one another's financial situation. And it is grim. Hence the necessary eyebrow massage. Christ, I may need another one just thinking about it.
What I'd really like to talk to you about is the monstrocity of Free Credit Schmeport Dot Com. For one of our applications, we had to get the report ourselves. I went to this site because I felt like it was legit, and didn't want to just be giving all my info around willy-nilly. I want some stupid guy with curly hair, a guitar and a jingle to look at my credit score.
FUN FACT! There is nothing free about Free Credit Schmeport Dot Com. Here's how they get you:
Step 1. You actually have to pay 1 dollar to get the report for some bullshit reason that is legally not a lie, but for all intents and purposes, is actually a lie. Something about the government. The dollar goes to charity. Whatever. The real reason they charge you the dollar is...
Step 2. So that you give them your credit card info. It's just a dollar. It's for charity. Right? WRONG!
Step 3. You are signed up for a free 7-9 day trial (which makes no sense already and I smell a bigger pile of bullshit off in the distance) which, once that is over, will automatically become a paid membership of $15 a month unless you CALL and cancel.
Step 4. Oh you better believe I will be calling to cancel. Ring Ring! Ring Ring!
Step 5. Hello, welcome to Foreign Call Center Where People With Accents Are Frustratingly Hard To Understand And Make You Want To Say F*ck It And Pay The Damn $15 Instead, may I help you?
Step 6. Yes I'd like to cancel my membership.
Step 7. Why did you get your report in the first place?
Step 8. None of your freakin' beeswax, LADY.
Step 9. Did you know that with our service, you get a million awesome things?
Step 10. I do? Gee! What about--NO! Stop trying to confuse me. I want to quit the gym/bank/website.
Step 11. Okay, we can do that. But you could also do this other thing for $15.
Step 12. NO!!! I WANT TO QUIT YOU!!!
Step 13. Alright Ms. Sheffar [???]. We've cancelled your membership.
Step 14. You hang up. You worry.
And that's it! If you, too, would like to know your credit score, just go to the site and get your score for "free" in just fourteen easy steps! Don't delay, call now!
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