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Last week I walked passed a booth of volunteers trying to get people to register to vote. A gal jumped in front of me and asked with her biggest smile, “Are you registered to vote?”
“Of course I am,” I said politely. While I saw no need to be rude, this was a conversation I really didn’t want to participate in. Being completely exhausted with work and having a newborn to worry about 90 percent of my brainpower was focused on something else. I was on autopilot: barely aware that I was even talking to her.
“That’s wonderful,” she replied. “Would you like to volunteer your time?”
And without realizing what I was doing, I blurted out laughing, “No.” I feel a little bad because I respect what she was doing…but volunteer work is just something I don’t believe in. Kinda like charity and the Easter Bunny.
I hate fees. I don’t think this a word that makes me cringe more than fees. I know some things have a price; other things have a cost. But there’s something about fees. Name something–anything–that you ever paid a “fee” for–was something you actually wanted? When you get a parking ticket, you hafta . . . . .
Leftover pizza presents an interesting challenge for me. There are so many different factors and options that there’s no clear-cut obvious answer. Don’t finish Chinese food? Save it for later! Can’t finish a salad? Throw it out. But pizza is more challenging.
Probably the biggest obstacle leftover pizza presents is there doesn’t have to be leftover pizza. I might be full after two or three slices–but that doesn’t mean I have to stop eating. The only time I truly have to stop eating pizza is when there’s no more pizza left. My ability to continuously (and gluttonously) eat pizza is slightly short of being remarkable (probably because it’s disgusting to see a guy eat slice after slice of pizza for three hours). Back when I was a teenager Pizza Hut started to roll out all-you-can-eat pizza buffets. Now they’re all gone. Why? Because they all lost money when I came in through the door. A lot of money. Why, I think it’s safe to say I am solely responsible for Pizza Hut’s disappointing third quarter in 1996.
I like to eat–this is no surprise to anyone who knows me. I’ve often said eating if my favorite hobby–and pizza is perhaps . . . . .
This is part two of a story I set out to tell the other day. Hopefully this time I’ll stay awake long enough to finish.
I recently moved into an apartment that put me in the ideal situation to steal cable. See, stealing cable is no easy task. You need to find the right conditions to make it work. By my rough (uneducated) statement, it can probably be done in most apartment buildings. Unfortunately, I haven’t lived in any of those apartment buildings until now.
The important thing to remember about stealing cable is that you can’t be picky. You might not get 200 channels. You might not get HD. You might not even get a perfect picture. Luckily for me, I’m willing to settle for what I can get (look at my car, my job, my wife, my life). I don’t need the finer things in life. I don’t need BET, Bravo, or HGTV. Heck, I don’t even need 50 channels. As long as I get ESPN, ESPN2, and Fox Sports I’m a happy man. Anything else is cake because the only reason I want cable is to watch baseball (that and the sheer joy of stealing cable).
Once . . . . .
One of my goals in life has been to steal cable (either I have low ambitions or I’m more morally ambiguous than I realized). Free Cable is like the Holy Grail to this cheapskate. I like the idea of having cable, but I can’t fiscally justify it. Cable bills run north of $60, and I simply can’t see getting $60 a month of entertainment out of television. If I had an extra $2 a day to spend on something, I would blow it on food. A supersize here. A soda there. Maybe even upgrade from London broil to rib eye. Mmmm….rib eye.
I also take great joy in the idea of stealing cable. I hate the pay-TV services. Satellite, fiber optics, cable–they’re all the same. They toy with packages and plans–trying to outdo each other and market the lowest price. But the truth is, they’re all the same. Because $19.99 might seem like a great deal for television. But then you need to add a $10 box rental fee, another $10 for HD–oh, and that $19.99 price only includes local channels (ya know–the free stuff you get with an antenna). If you want TBS, ESPN, or USA that’s a different . . . . .
So it turns out I’m no hero. Apparently my marrow just isn’t good enough. That’s a shame. I do hope that 13-year old girl does find a match–it just looks like it’s not going to be mine. Does this mean I have to give back my cape?
My job is a colossal waste of time and taxpayer dollars. There–I said it. It feels good to get it off my chest. Then again, it also feels good to get a paycheck, so perhaps I won’t say it too loudly or to the people who pay me.
Not that I’m the problem. I’m actually quite good at my job–the problem is the position itself. I work for an after-school tutoring company. The program is designed to help students who possess below-grade level math or reading skills and are struggling to keep up. The school identifies students who might benefit from the service and offers it–at absolutely no expense to the parents at all. The theory behind this free program is to help bring those students up to grade-level skills. Students work with tutors in order to boost their skills and (hopefully) catch them up to their peers. My job is to oversee . . . . .
Even though we are just two, The Wife and I have three cars. As much as we have tried, it has been proven to be physically impossible for two people to drive three cars simultaneously. One of our cars is frequently neglected…and its battery dies. That being said, I’m a man’s man–or at least manly enough to jumpstart a car battery.
The thing about a dead battery–in most cases–it can be resurrected. A car battery is like any rechargeable battery. If it goes long enough without being charged it will drain; however, if you start the car and drive around for a half hour the battery will recharge. I’m not saying anything here most guys don’t already know: this lesson in automotive electronics is for the women (and maybe my youngest brother).
I went through this ritual on over the weekend. Car battery died. Jumpstarted it. Needed to drive around for a half hour. The Wife and I opted to go to the library because it provides cheap entertainment. I had been driving for about 20 minutes when I was five minutes away from the library. Wanting to stretch my drive an additional five minutes, I made a couple extraneous . . . . .
I haven’t had much to be proud of lately. I work at a job that suits the financial needs of a teenager. I haven’t had a good haircut since 2008. I’m a burden on society and take more in government aid than I pay in taxes. But I can proudly proclaim I had a gas-free October. I filled up my gas tank on November 2nd. The last time I bought gas before that was September 23rd–meaning I did not buy gas for the entire month of October. Driving a highly fuel-efficient Honda played a big part in that, but I’ve had the car for almost four years and I’ve been getting 35 miles per gallon from the beginning. I was able to go six weeks in between fill-ups thanks to a perfect storm of events that left my car at home more often than not (no, it didn’t break down–it’s a Honda). Since I’m only taken one class, I only go to school once a week. October was filled with rainouts and byes, so I had only a couple softball games all month. And since work is a mere four-minute walk, it’d be wasteful to drive there. I typically go . . . . .
When text messaging was first introduced to the world, I thought it was an absurd concept. I mean, why take the time to type someone a message when it’s much easier to verbally tell them? Cell phone companies tried to tell us how useful texting was. I remember a commercial that showed two people at a party who were unable to talk to each other because the music was too loud. Being hip and smart, they used their cell phones and communicated via text messaging. Seemed foolish to me. If a party is that loud, go outside. And who goes to a party with music that loud? Plus, it cost something like 10 cents a message. Nothing I ever had to say seemed worth 10 cents. I stayed away from text messaging like Tigers Woods stayed away from controversy. But that was then…
…this is now. Today, I’m a big texter. The Wife gets angry ’cause I spend way too much texting other people instead of talking to her. I’m glad I’m on an unlimited texting plan ’cause if I wasn’t, I’d probably spend a full month’s unemployment check on text messages. I send and receive more texts than you’re . . . . .
With my full-time return to school, I feel older and wiser than all my classmates (that’s probably because I am older and wiser). I bring about one third more life experience to the classroom–not to mention a BA in creative writing. I’m not afraid to speak my mind or do my homework because I know I can do so without thoroughly embarrassing myself (except when it comes to analyzing poetry). My wisdom really shines in Groupwork. I think because in Groupwork students are left entirely on their own with little teacher interaction. Since I am the oldest, I become the pseudo teacher of the group and often its leader.
When unaccustomed students are thrust together for the first time there’s a brief, “getting to know you” phase with an exchange of information. How old are you? What kind of music do you like? What’s your major? Since I refuse to answer the first question and name bands they never heard of (is 1995 really that far in the past?), my academic history proves to be the most topical. The majority of classmates are impressed when I tell them I already have a BA and I’m currently a graduate student. Usually . . . . .
Now that our car quest is over and The Wife has a suitable vehicle, I am in the process of trying to unload her car on some poor, unsuspecting sucker. Not that I’m trying to scam anyone–I’m very clear about the process and have no intention of hiding the blown head gasket (it’s not like you can hide a blown head gasket anyway–the car shakes like a earthquake when you drive it).
In the past, I’ve always used Autotrader to buy and sell cars. But about a dozen years ago something called the internet got invented (by Al Gore) and launched all sorts of wonderful free services–most notably, Craigslist. Craigslist has been in the news an awful lot lately. For those unfamiliar with the service, Craigslist offers more than overweight strippers and dirt cheap hookers–you can also buy and sell goods. So instead of plopping down 50 bucks on Autotrader, I opted to try posting a free ad on Craigslist.
They say in life you get what you pay for. Perhaps that’s the attitude of Craigslist shoppers: they figure since the ad is free, the product should also be available at a significant discount. I can’t believe the riffraff I’ve . . . . .
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