Your Parents Don't Have to Love You

First off, before I launch into day two of my monetary rehabilitation... I would just like to take a moment to thank the Dallas Mavericks for beating the Heat in the 2011 NBA Finals... in their own town. Karma is a bitch LeBron, Karma is a bitch.

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Ok. Now I can get back to dollars and sense. Last night I wrote my first post on what is the Jildo "Jildough" blog. I posted a link to my facebook, so all of my friends could have access to really personal information about myself (life is short, why not?). Then, because I really do want to change my spending habits, I emailed my parents a link to my blog.

So, lets pause for a moment and think about this. My parents are pretty smart individuals, they save their money and invest wisely- my father is the CFO of an oil company in the Middle East and my mother has so much liquidity that she can afford to put 90% of her take home salary into her 401k to maximize her employers matching program. Can you see where this is going?

At 10:21pm on Saturday, June 11th, I sent the following email to my parents:

I started a blog. Its about how broke I am. Enjoy!

I figured the immediate reaction would be minor heart attacks from both parties, but they have good health insurance so I wasn't too worried. After they had time to think about it, I assumed they would be moderately disappointed and telepathically send me images of their best "we expected so much more from you" faces. At the very worst, I figured it's 10:21pm my time, so my mom (Central Time) will already be asleep and my Dad will be on a plane back to the Middle East-- I had at least 8-10 more hours of parental unconditional love until they read the email/blog. SCORE!

By the time I woke up this morning I had completely forgotten about the email. Then I logged onto gmail. Two new messages.

Email 1 from the Madre: "Sweetheart, try not to let the economy depress you.  I understand it, but you just have to do what you can to keep yourself above water.  Be mindful of you spending...pay off your credit card(s) every month.  Don't be obsessive, just careful."
NOTE: She hadn't read the blog yet at this point.

Email 2 from the Madre (sent 9 minutes after the initial email): WTF!!! %$#^&%&@%^$$*&^%%$!!!!

Yup, she read it.

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After reading my mother's second email, I learned a very valuable lesson. You parents really don't have to love you. No seriously, I'm not kidding. You know when new parents are asked to fill out all of that paperwork at the hospital after you are born? There is actually a clause that says if your child grows up to be a dumbass or a drug addict you do not have to love them (unless they are dumbasses or drug addicts, too, because then its really not your fault--you don't know better).

With that realization, day two of my monetary rehabilitation comes to a close. I made it through another day without spending any money (despite an ongoing seduction by my dear, dear friend coffee) and actually increased my net worth by returning a way too fun nightie to Victoria Secret (being hot is so overrated- especially when you are sleeping. I mean really, what's the point?)

Over and out- Jildo.

P.S. I have still not received any response from my father in reference to the blog. So I'm pretty sure its official-- my parents hate me.

DISCLAIMER: Mom-- if you read this, I know you really do still love me.