Yesterday I discovered that all of my shoes make up half of my body weight. Crazy, I know.
Recently I decided to move back home... ish. I currently live in Santa Barbara and rent a room in a house with my friend Camille. I love where I live and I love my job. Why move? I'll tell you why. It's the "Shit, My Friends are Getting Their Lives Together, What the Hell am I Doing? Effect."
A month ago my room mate Camille gave notice at work to pursue her career in real estate. Now, while I am in the career and industy I want to be in, Camille's step toward adulthood shook me to the core. Before this happened I pleasantly ignored the facts:
1. I'm throwing away almost a $1000 a month on rent
2. If I stay in California I will be able to buy a house on my deathbed... maybe
3. I live in one of the most expensive cities in Calfornia and there are hardly any career opportunities
4. Most of my family lives on the East Coast
5. Pet skunks are illegal in California
Obviously when you write them down it's kind of hard to ignore the fact that if I stay here it just makes me an idiot.
So I called up my parents, had a little chat and decided to move to Atlanta stat... well in two weeks. Which means I'm in turbo- pack/throw away/sell all my shit mode. This is how I discovered that I own half my body weight in shoes... and how I discovered how much it would cost to ship myself to Atlanta. $120. Not bad, right? I know, if it weren't for needing to get my Jeep out there I would totally crate it up. Cest la vie.
How does this effect the budget? Yes, moving 3,000 miles is going to rack up some expenses. However, based on my calculations, the profits I make from selling my furniture should offsett all moving costs. And, a few months living at home should more than allow me to make up the money I need to rebuy all new furniture, get a new place and buy my precious pet skunky skunk.
I know everyone in California thinks its the best state ever, but I'm pretty stoked about Georgia. What's not to love about a state that 1. allows pet skunks and 2. has a super rad song written about it (obviously, I'm referring to Peaches, by the Presidents of the United States of America). Cool songs are always a good indicator of the actual coolness level of a state. Case in point: How many cool songs are there about Oklahoma? ZERO. Because it is the lamest state in the U.S. with its only redeeming factor being the OKC Thunder.
So in conclusion sad to leave all my friends in CA, but super excited to actually be able to save money. And own a skunk. Obviously.
xoxo. Jildo
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Happy Thanksdrinking
Dear Friends, Compadres, Amigos,
I hope you are all splayed out on your couches, bear rugs or counter tops laden with thanksgiving child. You know, the mashed potato, tryptophan, jellied cranberries, green bean cassa-whoa, pumpkin pie baby in your belly thanksgiving child. So what are you thankful for?
Have you saved money this year? Did you remember to pre-party before you went to the bars? Did you remember not to want the beer too much, so that hottie at the end of the bar bought it for you before you gave in to your alcoholism? Maybe you are thankful for the Tuesday night movies? They are cheaper than the regular movies after all.
What am I thankful for? I'm thankful that I don't have to spend Thanksgiving alone. Despite the fact that I had to work this glorious Thanksgiving morning (which by the way is actually pretty clutch, because you get double time and everyone is nicer to you because they feel bad that you have to work on Turkey Day), my sister decided to drive up to Santa Barbara to spend this joyous holiday with me.
By 4:15pm we each had a glass of pinot noir in our hands, had the turkey breast (hey there were only two of us) in the oven, potatoes boiling and green beans prepped and ready to go. The cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie (homemade, obviously) were in the fridge and we were fast on our way to our first duo-ass-kicking thanksgiving meal.
We laughed, we cried-- ok mainly me when I downed my cold medicine with my glass of wine and I laughed so hard I cried, because everything Dav said sounded funny. What am I saying? Was funny. Obviously. Anyways, I just wanted to write a blog in honor of this glorious holiday. I mean it does promote saving after all. Well, really all holidays. Any occasion that promotes togetherness is a big winner, because I think we all know that more is less.
Example: Costco.
Over and out. Jildo
P.S. Daverede mentioned that in my alcohol laden state I may want to save and proof read at a later date. But you know what I say? No, dear friends, I will give you this post with no corrections or amendments, because.... Wait for it... It's going to be... Legen... Wait for it... Wait for it... Dary!
I hope you are all splayed out on your couches, bear rugs or counter tops laden with thanksgiving child. You know, the mashed potato, tryptophan, jellied cranberries, green bean cassa-whoa, pumpkin pie baby in your belly thanksgiving child. So what are you thankful for?
Have you saved money this year? Did you remember to pre-party before you went to the bars? Did you remember not to want the beer too much, so that hottie at the end of the bar bought it for you before you gave in to your alcoholism? Maybe you are thankful for the Tuesday night movies? They are cheaper than the regular movies after all.
What am I thankful for? I'm thankful that I don't have to spend Thanksgiving alone. Despite the fact that I had to work this glorious Thanksgiving morning (which by the way is actually pretty clutch, because you get double time and everyone is nicer to you because they feel bad that you have to work on Turkey Day), my sister decided to drive up to Santa Barbara to spend this joyous holiday with me.
By 4:15pm we each had a glass of pinot noir in our hands, had the turkey breast (hey there were only two of us) in the oven, potatoes boiling and green beans prepped and ready to go. The cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie (homemade, obviously) were in the fridge and we were fast on our way to our first duo-ass-kicking thanksgiving meal.
We laughed, we cried-- ok mainly me when I downed my cold medicine with my glass of wine and I laughed so hard I cried, because everything Dav said sounded funny. What am I saying? Was funny. Obviously. Anyways, I just wanted to write a blog in honor of this glorious holiday. I mean it does promote saving after all. Well, really all holidays. Any occasion that promotes togetherness is a big winner, because I think we all know that more is less.
Example: Costco.
Over and out. Jildo
P.S. Daverede mentioned that in my alcohol laden state I may want to save and proof read at a later date. But you know what I say? No, dear friends, I will give you this post with no corrections or amendments, because.... Wait for it... It's going to be... Legen... Wait for it... Wait for it... Dary!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Santa Crack
Hi, my name is Jillian and I'm an addict. I am addicted to Santa. That's right, you heard me, I want me some of that Santa crack. Maybe you haven't heard of it before, but I'm positive that you and at least ten of your friends are currently addicted and using without even knowing. Yes, Santa Crack is the most widely used drug in the United States today.
You think I'm shitting you? Sure, laugh it off, but when you go to Starbucks or Coffee Bean in November and December tell me you don't want to order that Winter Wonderland Tea Latte, Pumpkin Spice Seduction or Dark Chocolate Peppermint Mocha whore. LIAR!!!! Whether you do or not you want that holiday drink. Whipped cream? Yes, please!
If you think Santa Crack stops there you are in bigger trouble than I thought. It's everywhere you go. You walk in a department store and suddenly it all becomes clear. You need that 12 piece entertaining set with the fuzzy brown bears playing hide and seek in the ever greens- you aren't ever going to throw a party, but damn will they look good through the glass doors of your armoire. Or that spatula with Santas face on it? Who doesn't want to flip pancakes on a beard as white as snow? I sure as heck do.
Today I used again for the first time since last holiday season. I didn't mean to. I went to CVS to refill a prescription. Just a quick trip. In and out. But when I entered through the automatic sliding doors I felt my impending doom closing in around me. Rows and rows of bows and lights and jolly santa figurines stand between me and the pharmacy. Close your eyes, focus. Eyes on the prize. In that moment I knew what had to be done- so I lowered my head, let my arms settle into 90 degree angles at my sides and sprinted like Santa would in the off season (you know when he's a ripped stud) to the back of the store.
My problem? Like Ethan Hawke in Gattaca I didn't save anything for the trip back. By the time I made it back out the sliding doors I had four bags of Santa Crack on my arm, my wallet $150 lighter. Am I proud of myself no, but I don't think you can make it through the holiday season without indulging a little- and if you do there are probably adverse lingering h effects. So, here's to my first Christmas purchase of the season!
Xoxo. Jildo
P.S. Just a note of fore warning... You may want to avoid me the first week of January. The come down from Santa crack is rough. For some reason the damn pharmaceutical industry hasn't come up with Santa patches to ween us off the holiday cheer. Pigs.
You think I'm shitting you? Sure, laugh it off, but when you go to Starbucks or Coffee Bean in November and December tell me you don't want to order that Winter Wonderland Tea Latte, Pumpkin Spice Seduction or Dark Chocolate Peppermint Mocha whore. LIAR!!!! Whether you do or not you want that holiday drink. Whipped cream? Yes, please!
If you think Santa Crack stops there you are in bigger trouble than I thought. It's everywhere you go. You walk in a department store and suddenly it all becomes clear. You need that 12 piece entertaining set with the fuzzy brown bears playing hide and seek in the ever greens- you aren't ever going to throw a party, but damn will they look good through the glass doors of your armoire. Or that spatula with Santas face on it? Who doesn't want to flip pancakes on a beard as white as snow? I sure as heck do.
Today I used again for the first time since last holiday season. I didn't mean to. I went to CVS to refill a prescription. Just a quick trip. In and out. But when I entered through the automatic sliding doors I felt my impending doom closing in around me. Rows and rows of bows and lights and jolly santa figurines stand between me and the pharmacy. Close your eyes, focus. Eyes on the prize. In that moment I knew what had to be done- so I lowered my head, let my arms settle into 90 degree angles at my sides and sprinted like Santa would in the off season (you know when he's a ripped stud) to the back of the store.
My problem? Like Ethan Hawke in Gattaca I didn't save anything for the trip back. By the time I made it back out the sliding doors I had four bags of Santa Crack on my arm, my wallet $150 lighter. Am I proud of myself no, but I don't think you can make it through the holiday season without indulging a little- and if you do there are probably adverse lingering h effects. So, here's to my first Christmas purchase of the season!
Xoxo. Jildo
P.S. Just a note of fore warning... You may want to avoid me the first week of January. The come down from Santa crack is rough. For some reason the damn pharmaceutical industry hasn't come up with Santa patches to ween us off the holiday cheer. Pigs.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
A Modern Goldilocks
I don't want your porridge. I want your bagel.
Ok, I know I'm weird. But this past week and a half all I've been craving for breakfast is an Everything bagel with cream cheese. Of course I could go to the grocery store and buy a pack, but in my experience bagels always taste better when they're not yours.
Who has the best bagel? I could get a free bagel at work, but I've had those before- too much bagel for me. No, literally they are huge. Plus, there's no bagel cutter. It takes like ten minutes to just cut through the damn thing. Seriously, our knives are so dull a mental ward wouldn't give a second thought to handing over ten to their most suicidal patient. No, that bagel will never be the perfect bagel.
Maybe Coffee Bean. I still have that Coffee Bean gift card from my birthday. Two weeks of free bagels? I went Tuesday before work. They don't have Everything bagels. PAUSE. Who the fuck doesn't have Everything bagels?! I mean come-on! If bagels were to ice cream, everything is synonymous to chocolate. I think you would agree with me, if I said there's no point of having ice cream without the flavor chocolate. Likewise, what's the point of bagels, if there is no Everything.
I try to shrug off this setback, I mean I do pride myself on being open to new ideas. "I'll have a combination bagel." Maybe Combination is the same as Everything and they just don't know it's a sucky name. Toasted with cream cheese? Obviously. The man behind the counter hands me hope in a brown bag- I feel like Marshall from How I Met You Mother on his search for the perfect burger- on the precipice of a possible life changing moment.
I pull it out of the bag and sink my teeth in it. WTF!? Hard? Cold? It just came out of the toaster. How the hell did they do that? I decide it was probably a fluke, so I went back yesterday and repeated the whole scenario. Nothing changed. A breath of relief escaped my lips, I wouldn't have to lie to myself after all. Combination bagels are a joke compared to Everything bagels. I spit on Combination bagels. Phew phew!
What else was there to do? Would I just have to settle? Mrrrrrr. NEVER!!!! This morning I found the perfect bagel. I wokeup at 7am, instantly hungry, of course. There's no time to shower, put on make up or even real clothes. So me in my red plaid Semester at Sea pajama pants, pistachio green "You Matter" t-shirt, and traffic cone orange Patagonia fleece I schlep to the Daily Grind.
No gift card to get a free bagel, all they want is my cold, hard $2.30. I hand it over and they hand me my toasted Everything (Hallelujah!!!!) bagel with whipped cream cheese. Genius! Side note: Everything should be whipped.
This time when I pull my bagel out of that brown bag angels sing. Then I bite into it... I'm in heaven. I'm in heaven and my heart beats so that I can barely speak... Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were obviously talking about Bagel Seduction made possible by the Daily Grind in Cheek to Cheek. God, the title is so obvious.
I drive home in peace. Who knew happiness was so cost effective? Damn at $2.30 I could probably overdose on happiness. So pumped.
Xoxo. Jildo.
Ok, I know I'm weird. But this past week and a half all I've been craving for breakfast is an Everything bagel with cream cheese. Of course I could go to the grocery store and buy a pack, but in my experience bagels always taste better when they're not yours.
Who has the best bagel? I could get a free bagel at work, but I've had those before- too much bagel for me. No, literally they are huge. Plus, there's no bagel cutter. It takes like ten minutes to just cut through the damn thing. Seriously, our knives are so dull a mental ward wouldn't give a second thought to handing over ten to their most suicidal patient. No, that bagel will never be the perfect bagel.
Maybe Coffee Bean. I still have that Coffee Bean gift card from my birthday. Two weeks of free bagels? I went Tuesday before work. They don't have Everything bagels. PAUSE. Who the fuck doesn't have Everything bagels?! I mean come-on! If bagels were to ice cream, everything is synonymous to chocolate. I think you would agree with me, if I said there's no point of having ice cream without the flavor chocolate. Likewise, what's the point of bagels, if there is no Everything.
I try to shrug off this setback, I mean I do pride myself on being open to new ideas. "I'll have a combination bagel." Maybe Combination is the same as Everything and they just don't know it's a sucky name. Toasted with cream cheese? Obviously. The man behind the counter hands me hope in a brown bag- I feel like Marshall from How I Met You Mother on his search for the perfect burger- on the precipice of a possible life changing moment.
I pull it out of the bag and sink my teeth in it. WTF!? Hard? Cold? It just came out of the toaster. How the hell did they do that? I decide it was probably a fluke, so I went back yesterday and repeated the whole scenario. Nothing changed. A breath of relief escaped my lips, I wouldn't have to lie to myself after all. Combination bagels are a joke compared to Everything bagels. I spit on Combination bagels. Phew phew!
What else was there to do? Would I just have to settle? Mrrrrrr. NEVER!!!! This morning I found the perfect bagel. I wokeup at 7am, instantly hungry, of course. There's no time to shower, put on make up or even real clothes. So me in my red plaid Semester at Sea pajama pants, pistachio green "You Matter" t-shirt, and traffic cone orange Patagonia fleece I schlep to the Daily Grind.
No gift card to get a free bagel, all they want is my cold, hard $2.30. I hand it over and they hand me my toasted Everything (Hallelujah!!!!) bagel with whipped cream cheese. Genius! Side note: Everything should be whipped.
This time when I pull my bagel out of that brown bag angels sing. Then I bite into it... I'm in heaven. I'm in heaven and my heart beats so that I can barely speak... Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were obviously talking about Bagel Seduction made possible by the Daily Grind in Cheek to Cheek. God, the title is so obvious.
I drive home in peace. Who knew happiness was so cost effective? Damn at $2.30 I could probably overdose on happiness. So pumped.
Xoxo. Jildo.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Locked Up Abroad... in My Backyard
Yesterday, unintentionally, I found a new way to save money. All you have to do is lock yourself out of your house without ANYTHING. Yes, true, it can become quite boring, but you literally have no way to spend money.
While Camille and I are home we usually leave our garage door to the house unlocked. Why wouldn't we? We're home. But yesterday, as I am headed out the door to the grocery store a handy man comes by to do some work in the back yard. He already has the code to the garage, so I decide for safety reasons to lock the garage door. Makes sense right? And, then for good measure I lock the sliding door from the dining room to the backyard.
Now when I get back from the grocery store do I think to unlock these doors? Nuh uh. I'm in the middle of making an apple pie- so, obviously I'm consumed with making sure the dough for the crust is good, yadda yadda yadda. I put the pie in the oven, throw some clothes in the wash and settle down to watch some TV. Fifty minutes go by. I check on the pie. It could use ten more minutes. I check on the laundry (the door closes behind me- I of course think nothing of it)-- ready to go in the dryer.
After transferring my clothes to the dryer I turn to head back into the house and my yummy pie. I grab the door handle. FUCK. For about 5 minutes I jangle the door handle hoping that it might just pop open. Yea, no such luck. Then I think hey! I have my tool set right here, I can just pick the lock! You can imagine how this went. Two minutes later: New plan- I will take the door off its hinges! I have screwdrivers and needle nose pliers to pull the pins out. This will totally work!
It totally didn't work. The pins must have been glued in. New plan- I'll check the perimeter- maybe I can get in through another door or window. After sweeping the perimeter, I discover why we don't have an alarm system. Our house is inpenetrable, unless you physically break a window. All the door hinges have rusted so much that they won't budge an inch. And windows are apparently just for show as none of them really open.
At this point thirty minutes have past, I've given up hope for my pie. It's dead. I sit down outside beside the sliding glass door. Angel, Camille's dog, comes over and stares at me from the inside. In my head I half hope that Angel has super powers and can reach the lock, turn it and let me in. She nudges the curtains with her nose. Is she gonna do it?! Of course not. FAIL. Angel gives me a sucks for you look, and returns to her cushy seat on the sofa.
There was nothing I could do, but wait for Camille to get home. So I grabbed a towel out of the dryer and snuggled up for a nap on our backyard furniture. And, thats exactly what I did- nothing- for 3+ hours. No money was spent- no damage done- save a sad little pie.
Here's to stupid actions that force you to save. Ugh.
xoxo. Jildo
While Camille and I are home we usually leave our garage door to the house unlocked. Why wouldn't we? We're home. But yesterday, as I am headed out the door to the grocery store a handy man comes by to do some work in the back yard. He already has the code to the garage, so I decide for safety reasons to lock the garage door. Makes sense right? And, then for good measure I lock the sliding door from the dining room to the backyard.
Now when I get back from the grocery store do I think to unlock these doors? Nuh uh. I'm in the middle of making an apple pie- so, obviously I'm consumed with making sure the dough for the crust is good, yadda yadda yadda. I put the pie in the oven, throw some clothes in the wash and settle down to watch some TV. Fifty minutes go by. I check on the pie. It could use ten more minutes. I check on the laundry (the door closes behind me- I of course think nothing of it)-- ready to go in the dryer.
After transferring my clothes to the dryer I turn to head back into the house and my yummy pie. I grab the door handle. FUCK. For about 5 minutes I jangle the door handle hoping that it might just pop open. Yea, no such luck. Then I think hey! I have my tool set right here, I can just pick the lock! You can imagine how this went. Two minutes later: New plan- I will take the door off its hinges! I have screwdrivers and needle nose pliers to pull the pins out. This will totally work!
It totally didn't work. The pins must have been glued in. New plan- I'll check the perimeter- maybe I can get in through another door or window. After sweeping the perimeter, I discover why we don't have an alarm system. Our house is inpenetrable, unless you physically break a window. All the door hinges have rusted so much that they won't budge an inch. And windows are apparently just for show as none of them really open.
At this point thirty minutes have past, I've given up hope for my pie. It's dead. I sit down outside beside the sliding glass door. Angel, Camille's dog, comes over and stares at me from the inside. In my head I half hope that Angel has super powers and can reach the lock, turn it and let me in. She nudges the curtains with her nose. Is she gonna do it?! Of course not. FAIL. Angel gives me a sucks for you look, and returns to her cushy seat on the sofa.
There was nothing I could do, but wait for Camille to get home. So I grabbed a towel out of the dryer and snuggled up for a nap on our backyard furniture. And, thats exactly what I did- nothing- for 3+ hours. No money was spent- no damage done- save a sad little pie.
Here's to stupid actions that force you to save. Ugh.
xoxo. Jildo
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Blacked Out
Usually blackouts follow excessive shots of tequila or sake bombs, but my computer doesn't have any valid excuses. Ok, so she's by a window that gets a lot of sun and I hardly ever turned her off- but come on! Who doesn't love the sun? And, powering down?! I'm sorry my computer is my night light (it's ok to still have a night light at 26 right? I mean so much better than hiding under the covers- breathing is way more essential than feeling safe-most of the time).
So maybe I haven't been the best computer parent, but I loved her dammit! Now whether it's due to my bad parenting or natural aging, my computer has decided to black out. I went to the Apple store today to access the damage- $500 to fix the display. Computer, I love you, but I don't know if I love you that much. If my computer could bark and lick my face in the morning to wake me up, it would be a different story, but I'm still waiting for that to happen.
I walked out of Apple defeated. Should I put her down? Was it time for her to go to computer heaven? She's still aware of everything around her- in my efforts to get her screen to come back to life she'll sporadically start playing episodes of How I Met Your Mother or jam to my iTunes playlist. Thus, I ask you, knowing that she is still in there am I a monster if I trade her in? Remove her hard drive and start over? Will she still be the computer I know and love if I give her a $1,100 facelift?
Sigh. So bummed.
Xoxo, Jildo.
So maybe I haven't been the best computer parent, but I loved her dammit! Now whether it's due to my bad parenting or natural aging, my computer has decided to black out. I went to the Apple store today to access the damage- $500 to fix the display. Computer, I love you, but I don't know if I love you that much. If my computer could bark and lick my face in the morning to wake me up, it would be a different story, but I'm still waiting for that to happen.
I walked out of Apple defeated. Should I put her down? Was it time for her to go to computer heaven? She's still aware of everything around her- in my efforts to get her screen to come back to life she'll sporadically start playing episodes of How I Met Your Mother or jam to my iTunes playlist. Thus, I ask you, knowing that she is still in there am I a monster if I trade her in? Remove her hard drive and start over? Will she still be the computer I know and love if I give her a $1,100 facelift?
Sigh. So bummed.
Xoxo, Jildo.
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