83% of Crimes are Committed By People Who Are Bored

FACT: I just made up that statistic.
FACT: I ripped off my random percent from Barney Stinson- fictional character and my hero
REALLY TRUE FACT: Nothing good happens when you are bored (I grew up in a small town. I know this.)

Today started off like any normal day at work. But, instead of 500 check outs we had 86 and instead of 600 check ins we had 65. So after about the first hour of going through reports, crossing our i's and dotting our invisible t's (i just realized i might be mentally dyslexic. hmm. weird) there wasn't a whole lot going on. Did I mention that we have two hotel tours? Yep. North and South. The South Tower is the main tower and the North... well, let's just call the North Tower BFE. (Does that age me? I'm a cougar, OK?!)

Haha, but seriously. So Gray and I set up in the North Tower for 8 hours of hospitality bliss. Like I said. 7am-8am--- breeze. Next 7 hours, a little trickier. We managed to fill thirty minutes taking an idiot test online- yah, I know. Gray made it to "brilliant" status. After I was booted back to the beginning about 8 times for answering incorrectly (hey, clicking the lightest blue square was hard!) I said FUCK THIS and accepted my idiot label. I'm not sure how I made it to 12:30, but I did and off to lunch I went.

When I got back to the desk after lunch, Chris was there. I explained to him that I wanted to gouge my eyes out because I was sooooo bored. And, that dear friends is when everything went downhill.

Chris: "Oh! Man! You should totally check out this website. I wasted like an hour and a half on it the other day just perusing." (He moves to my terminal and types in the link: thisiswhyimbroke.com-- I'm not effing kidding-- and yes, you can bet your bottom dollar (hehehe) I was intrigued).

Now, what do you think is greater than my love of spending money on essential things like coffee? Yes, that's right...spending money on things that are awesome... and this website... well this website is the KING OF AWESOME. I'm not even joking. I want to spend $10,000 right now. Ok- not really- but yah, cool stuff.

Exhibit A:
Glow in the Dark Toilet Paper!!!! AHHHHHH!!!! I know! Are you freaking out right now?! Because I totally am! Whoever invited glow in the dark toilet paper is a genius! GENIUS! I mean come'on, how much does it suck when you have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom? You have to turn the light on or you risk stubbing your big toe. But once you turn the light on you know there's a chance that you are not going back to that sweet, sweet peaceful and/or sexy dream. Am I right? Of course I'm right. Which is why Glow in the Dark Toilet Paper is the BEST IDEA EVERRRRRR.

Word.

That's not all either. I also found a really cool shark sleeping bag for only $300-- you sleep between its Jaws. Obviously. And then there was the minime bobble head. Yes, custom bobble heads. You can put your huge head on your little body, again. True story. Or how about the Coffee Table Aquarium or Plastic Walk on Water Bubble? I feel like I'm having a heart attack and falling in love all at the same time..... I can't breathe, too many coool things. GASP.

Wait... there's even Caffeinated Soap?! Just kill me now! I will never feel more whole than at this moment. (Insert angels singing HERE).

xoxo. Jildo

P.S. Currently holding strong. I have not purchased anything yet... however, please find my wish list at www.thisiswhyimbroke.com. My half birthday is March 11. Thanks :D

Pink Drinkkk Epidemic

Ok Gents this ones for you... and no I did not mean to title this post Purple Drank.

So we all know my blog is about saving money. Obviously as a single woman or I guess as a woman in general there are certain perks- or assumed perks I should say.  The main one being free drinks. Its common knowledge, everyone knows it... Guys buy girls drinks because they want to be our *cough* friends. There's just one reoccurring problem: the Pink Drinkkk Epidemic.

I didn't really notice the epidemic till this past December when I went to Vegas- probably because prior to this I had been in a relationship forever with a guy who knew what I liked to drink. But this past December when I went to Vegas with the sister wives, it became obvious all too quickly that these days FREE drinks suck. Ok, thats being way too harsh. Alcohol is alcohol and FREE alcohol is FREE ALCOHOL!!! WOOO!

Nevertheless, yes, I am going to bitch about FREE alcohol. Our first night in Vegas, Jes, Lisa and I made friends with a cowboy- what can I say the rodeo was in town. He had the googly eyes for Lisa, but because he was a cowboy and a gentleman he bought us all drinks (really this was the perfect set up for Jes and I, free drinks and no forced, awkward conversations. Have I told you lately that I love you Lisa? haha) Anyways, our cowboy friend asks for our first drink order. TEQUILA!!!! We're simple women and we know what we like.

The cowboy returns from the bar with three pink drinks with sugar on the rim and a cherry floating in the bottom. We tried to be polite and sip our drinks, but really?! I'm not sure in what world TEQUILA means crappy, sugary, pink drinkkk. This happened over and over that night and the following nights as well. I chalked it up to midwest charm. He just thought, because we were ladies we didn't really want TEQUILA we wanted cute pink drinks. And it was totally cool with me, because he was able to track down my wrislet with ALLL my credit cards, cash, id and phone in it that I had left in a cab. Very nice guy.

Unfortunately, it wasn't just Midwest charm. Last week when I went out with a couple friends here in Atlanta the same thing happened... well sort of. While we were at a club some guy told me he wanted to buy me a drink. Ok, if you insist. He asks what I like- TEQUILA or BEER. He does the fizzle face. Nahhh!!! You don't want that! Lets do shots of Grand Marnier. I'm 110% sure that Grand Marnier is not TEQUILA or BEER.

Ok, I realize I sound like somewhat of a bitch. But really? Really? Come'on guys! My faith in men's drink buying abilities is going out the door.

Here's to spending my own money on drinks- to get what I really want! Some things are worth bending the budget for.

xoxo. Jildo

P.S. Just so you know this blog has been in the works for like five days. I wasn't sure if I should post it, because here in Atlanta without all of my alcoholic California friends and with Baptist churches on every corner I kinda feel like a bad person. I don't want to go straight to hell :(

Snow Jill and the Seven... Frat Guys?

"You need to be able to get your goose on, not care about our random sexual encounters or occasional blazing." The ad went on to say something to the effect of "If you live with us you will become a more AWESOME person."

I love being awesome and I thought the ad was HILARIOUS (coincidentally I love funny people), so I responded. Three days later I was driving to Buckhead to meet one of my potential roomies. When I get there the house is dark and dead quiet. Not the best sign, but I wait a few minutes and the guy shows up... with another guy.

So I follow them into the house to get a tour. Sitting on the couch is another guy. Ok, three guys. Plus the guy that I'd been talking back and forth with about the house. Four guys. Ok, I think to myself they seem really nice, they aren't douchey. The house isn't shee shee, its in the heart of Buckhead, walking distance to bars, the price was right, I'd be closer to work and have instant friends (because obviously they would want to be my friends- right? haha).

The longer I'm there the more I like it. This may or may not have to do with the glass of red wine they instantly put in my hand- but seriously it was really cool. One of the guys was even from Santa Barbara, which made me miss it a little less (I mean because we could laugh about the Shitty Kitty or Joes- not because he was an asshole). Anyways, so it's all going great and then the door opens and two more guys come in. Now we're up to five guys physically there, the one out of town on business and another one they mention that actually owns the house.

I cough. Come... uh come again? I mention the ad and how I thought it was funny- random sexual encounters, blazing yadda, yadda, yadda. One of them perks up, their luck hasn't been so good lately. Maybe I can be their wing woman they suggest. Pause. Yes, I could definitely help them meet girls... but what about me?

Now of course I don't want any random sexual encounters. But seriously, if I were the only girl living in basically what was a grown up frat house with two handfuls of guys is anyone EVER going to want to date me? NOOOOOO. My love life would be shot. I weigh the sides on my invisible scale instant friends vs. zero second dates.

Am I shallow because I decided against living in a frat house, because I want to go on dates. I think not. Def, def, definitely not.

xoxo Jildo

P.S. I am happy to announce that I will be moving in with a friend from work, the apartment is closer to my job and the price is better. Oh and I'll be living with two girls- so yah. Both friends and dates are now possible.

The Price of a Smile

I'd say within an hour of updating my location to Atlanta, GA back in December I had about ten new friend requests on Facebook. God! Southern hospitality rocksssss. Ok, so most of them were Devantes, Tevarius' or Shayquan's and all of them were originally from Kenya, but friends are friends! Right? Haha.

Please know I am not racist at all. I just thought it was completely hilarious that all these black guys were hitting me up on Facebook as soon as they saw that I was in the ATL. --It was a sign of good things to come. When you move to California, people give you the stink eye and tell you you aren't a local until you've lived there at LEAST 15 years... and thats them being generous (California, you know I love you, but it's so damn true).

So I move to Atlanta. I don't know anyone, but family and my new homies. I get my breeze card to ride MARTA (as you all know if you read my blog) and low and behold on my first ride I make two new friends. Aaron the PT who asks me to be his sister after we bond listening to Lil' Scrappy and Femi the 40-year-old engineer who tried to walk me to work from the train station (apparently I don't age discriminate either- although I did turn down his offer- come on people! Safety first!)

MARTA seemed to be the place to make friends. I was very optimistic that I wouldn't have to volunteer for some tree planting extravaganza pretending to be a hippie to make new friends or shell out kaboodles of cash to go on a wilderness adventure with a bunch of strangers and sing kumbaya. But then this morning my world view shifted and I realized maybe I shouldn't make eye contact or smile at people on MARTA anymore, mostly because they could be INSANE. Yes, this morning I met an INSANE person waiting on MARTA. He was a homeless person, so I thought all the more reason  to share some sunshine and smile. Right? WRONG.

I was mid smile when I realized that he was certifiably insane and would probably be a prime suspect to kill me in my sleep. ERRR. I stopped the smile dead in its half curved lip tracks- I'm sure I looked like I was having a stroke.

"Hey hunny. Where do you live? Are you going to work? Where do you work? Do you work at a bank? Or maybe a hotel?"

Now I pride myself on being a very amicable person, but if I think you could kill me at some point that kind of changes things.

"I don't feel comfortable talking to you." Is what I said. Although looking back, I'm sure it made no sense to him, as things that make sense to you and me do not make sense to people that are INSANE.

He moved closer to me and kept asking me questions. AHHHHHHH. FUCK. I turn away from him and dig into my purse. Where the FUCK is my phone. I see a beacon of light at the very bottom and I grasp for it. I swipe my finger once, twice. WORDS WITH FRIENDS. WORDS WITH FRIENDS. AHHHHH. I suck in my breath and let it out and let my shoulders sag. I start looking for triple letters that I can layer to get a mega score. I relax. WORDS you make me feel so safe. I start to smile again and then I suck it back in. NO MORE SMILES... at least not around homeless people. I'm sorry I can't do it any more.

I was so excited when I moved here, because everyone I met was so kind. I thought wow you really can make friends without spending money on weird community activities. I might have been wrong. Maybe this is God's karma for me since I don't like planting trees or sorting my recycling. GAHHHHH.

xoxo Jildo

P.S. Incidentally I am quite aware that you can meet normal people at places other than nature activities. But, unless you are in a boot camp, who's going to want to be my friend when I'm sweating buckets at the gym? And, lets be for real. With a 3 hour commute each day, the only place I meet people is on the train or at the gym, because I don't have the time or energy to do anything else.

MARTAY Pantsss

Last Tuesday I got offered a job at the only four diamond hotel in downtown Atlanta. I was ecstatic, until...

No parking? Heh? Come again?

Ok, ok so it would suck to pay for monthly parking, but honestly I was more concerned about getting off work at midnight in downtown Atlanta and having to walk half a mile to an empty parking garage. Let's just be for real, I haven't unpacked yet and I have no idea where my rape whistle and mace are.

I may have had a minor panic attack and maybe I cried like a little girl. Who can really say? All I can say for sure is I was freaked the fuck out. Questions like: should I not have moved here? what am I doing? definitely crossed my mind for like a second and then I realized I was just being silly. Atlanta kicks ass.

So, I started thinking. How can I get to and from work without being robbed or raped? Obviously very valid questions. My stepmom mentioned using MARTA, Atlanta's public rail system. My step brother flashed his breeze card at me and dared me to take MARTA to work on Thursday. Heh... Heh. I kinda wanted to, but at the same time the thought of it made me want to pee my pants and throw up at the same time.

It's not what you're thinking. Ok, I don't know what you're thinking. But this is what I was thinking, because I am an anal, anal person. Well... at least about punctuality. How could I risk taking MARTA on my first day of work? Without a trial run? Without a barf bag? What if I got on the wrong train? What if I got off at the wrong stop? AHHHHHHHHH!!!!

But somehow when I left for work the next morning, I drove to the North Springs MARTA station (got off at the correct exit, despite the lies my GPS was telling me) and made my train... And then my connecting train. I'm happy to report I didn't pee my pants or throw up in my mouth, not even a little.

I decided a might even use MARTA for pleasure. Although I hafta say... I'd like MARTA way more if I could drink on the train. "Totes my goats".

Xoxo, Jildo and self proclaimed MARTAY Pantsss

P.S. I almost forgot. Riding MARTA is also tres responsible, as it is safer and cheaper than public parking (there is a station inside where I work) and I will save gas money since I won't be driving. Oh, and I won't be stuck in that hellish Atlanta rush hour traffic. Hallelujah!!!

Fawkward in Georgia

You know when you are growing up and you have those damn school presentations? You read Indian in the Cupboard or studied up on Western Civilization in the 1800's and now you have to get up in front of 20 to 30 of your peers and tell them about it? There were always people that you did not want to get up. Not because they were boring as shit, but because they were sweating like primates and the odds were in their favor of passing out right there. No one wants to see that shit. Why? Because watching nervous, awkward people is uncomfortable.

I am not guilt-free of this. In high school I tried to keep it together-bless my soul- but come'on when you get up to do a presentation dressed in a homemade Greek tunic ensemble, with notecards up the wazoo and you drop ALLLLLL of your notecards... thats fucking awkward. In college, I got way better. I can get up and present with my eyes closed and my tongue sticking out- no wavering, wobbling voice. Thank GODDDDDDD.

Anyways, I swear there is a point to this. And this is it: I have not been writing blogs to spare you FAWKWARDNESS. I know, super nice right? Seriously, lets look at the facts:

1. Girl bitches about being broke
2. Girl quits job and moves ALL the way across the country- without a job (Hmmm. Ok? No, fucking weird)
3. Girl gets speeding ticket on roadtrip
4. Girl owes $600 to Cornell  Jan. 1 for classes. HAHAHAHA
5. Girl goes to fill up gas two rocks hit her windshield and create two HUGE cracks (really? really?! what are the fucking odds? After having my car 6 years with no problems, the windshield gets cracked twice in one week?! Anyways....)
6. Girl lives at home with step mom (lets qualify this- girl is 26. However, step mom does make amazing homemade tamales- so, in my mind I rationalize that it is ok to stay at home till I figure shit out. Tamalesssssss.... YUMMMM)
7. Girl watches 2 Broke Girls and wants to barf (thinks OMG if my blog is anything like this, just shoot me now)

So in conclusion, I thought it was best to refrain from excessive broke blogging. Because, while funny at times when you kinda have your shit together, when you throw your shit to the wind it ain't so pretty. You can guess where I am right now.

Over and Out. Jildo