Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

Oh Hi. Um, how are you doing? Me, I’m fine. Just have been a bit overwhelmed with, well, living, I guess. I never meant to go so long without calling you. I just, I don’t know... it just slipped my mind. You mean so much to me, I am so sorry. I am embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me.

When last we talked, I posed a contest. A How Long Does It Take Fianna To Be a Lobster Contest.

No one guessed it right! There wasn’t even a closest without going over winner.

Which truly, does not surprise me. At all. Because can anyone even count that low?

The answer to how many minutes did I, the redhead, stay in a tanning bed on her first visit to a tanning place ever. How many minutes did it take to turn me to a pretty pink pink, is . . .

4 Minutes.

Oh how pale I am of the Palest variety of the Pales.

I have gone a total of 3 times so far. I did 4 minutes, then 3 minutes, and 4 again. The last 2 trips, I wore SPF 4 tanning lotion and have not turned pink pink again.

And! Lines!

I has tan!

There is clear and convincing evidence of a tan. Now… look at a piece of white paper. That is before, now, go look at a sheet of ivory paper – like resume paper. That is now. Well, maybe a bit optimistic, but I really really think there is a slight change of color to this white soul.

And if my mom Kaytabug Sophie is reading this, don’t worry, I am taking SPF Forty Bazillion with me to Jamaica.

Winner!

We have 2 winners. Because I said so.

BEV AT SAUNTERING SOUL! She guessed the closest with 5 minutes. I have thought about going 5 minutes…but am skerred. Of the red.

KARMYN R! Karmyn gets first and a half place because she was the closest winner on the first guess.

Ladies! Email me at fiannafiannafianna AT gmail DOT com and provide an address where I can send super cool Jamaican stuff. The supercool stuff that doesn’t get confiscated or end up with me in jail. Sorry. I may love you, but I have been watching Locked Up Abroad. Red is not the only thing I am skerred of.

Operation Jamaica

Our efforts to look like Adonis and well, Adonisa, I guess, at the beach continues.

Tonight I got off work late, ran to the gym, killed myself there, ran home for a quick shower, went tanning again and came home. Once home, I cooked a grilled cheese sandwich and now, minutes after eating it, I sit here typing at 10:30. Whew.

I apologize for not being more responsive on the tanning contest. It does continue as no one has guessed the right number. I will leave it open awhile longer, at least until I get a chance to properly draft a blog post about my tanning adventure.

In the meantime, here is some training for you:



I go bed now.

An Amazing Shade of Red

Facts About My Weekend:

We spent a fortune on booking and buying crap and preparing ourselves for Our Big Vacation. We are going to Jamaica, bitches.

Snorkel! Cannot wait to snorkel. Wonders if I must have flippers. I do have water shoes, for the corals and stuff. Anyone? I am not a lover of the flipper, the shoes, not the dolphin. Dolphins are ok, I guess. Except kinda dumb for swimming with Charlie the Tuna.

I ran another 3 miles without feeling quite like I was going to die. Just kinda sorta. Would have been much easier if I wasn’t wearing shorts that insisted on crawling up inside my body during the run.

In addition to snorkels, and clothing and water shoes purchased for the vacation in Jamaica, we joined a NEWER, BRIGHTER, PRETTIER, THINNER gym. Because if we go to a gym that has skinny, pretty people, maybe we will become skinny and pretty, by osmosis. To me, if it means that I can run the treacherous 3 miles indoors as opposed to outside the doors, I am happy. Even if I have to watch anorexics wander the gym. Although, I could eat them I am so hungry, so they better stay clear.

On this super fast track to looking awesome for Our Big Vacation which is happening in like minutes, we also went to a Tanning Salon.

Hi, my name is Fianna, I am a freaking redhead.

However, I am ever so grateful to have accepted the ribbing from Not Craig about wearing my tightie whities to the tanning salon. I am ever so grateful for the tightie whities. ‘Nuff said.

Today, I am pink. With shades of coral red! This is my first ever visit to a tanning salon. Between Mr. Abercrombie and Mr. Fitch at the front desk talking like retarded valley girls and the Pink Skin, an interesting experience. We are doing this under a free 2 week trial membership so at least I am not paying to burn. And yea, no lectures. I am the one that nicknames her friends, Mela-Noma. I am trying to prepare for spending long hours on the beach. In Jamaica. Bitches.

Let’s have a contest! How many minutes was I in the tanning bed in order to turn a wonderful shade of coral?

The winner will get a prize from Jamaica. But you must be prepared to be patient. When I say I am going in minutes, I mean more like weeks.

I may be an exaggerator. But this exaggerator? Is going to Jamaica!

Preparations for the Tropical Storm.

I wanted to post this last night. You know, in case I woke up dead. Or with the power off. Or hung over with no ambition for blogging.

Blogger hates Tropical Storms apparently. Including any freaking out! Respect The Storm!

So, anyhoo, I prepared thoroughly for the Tropical Storm.

I looked through my cupboards. Found granola bars, green beans and Vodka.

I was nervous. I was out of red wine. I seriously considered venturing out for red wine. However, the news was reporting that lines at Wal-Mart reached to the back of the store, I felt that I could do with vodka. I know. I am taking my chances. What if I am unable to get out of the house for days on end. The closest gas station that may sell a really cheap wine or Shiner, which could serve as a substitute, is a full 2 blocks away. TWO BLOCKS!

So, if you don't get another update, send a nice Shiraz. K? Thx.

With plenty of alcohol and canned goods, I then ensured that all outdoor items were secured. Well, items that were under my control and not icky like the trash cans. I pulled all my plants inside.


I would like to bring everyone's attention to 2 things in this picture. Look at how well my plants have recovered from my murder attempts. Second, see the cats. 14 hours later, the damn cats are in the exact same location, eating leaves.

I am off from work today, due to inclamate weather. It sure is clammy weather.

The Sweet In Between

It isn’t that I am at an in-between stage anymore. I am in a completely different stage.

The problem is, I haven’t quite figured myself out in this new stage or even exactly what stage I am in, or how to meet and make friends with others in this new stage, whatever it may be.

A stage beyond the last one. A stage where I have left a good friend of mine.

It sucks to notice the different settings we are in. To look back and wish her the best. But know that I am not there anymore and I don’t want to be. She does. This creates a rift.

It might be easier if I had more friends in this new stage. If I could just say, sorry, too busy, can’t do what you want to do.

Instead, I say naaahh, not interested. And stay at home. Because I haven’t quite figured out where I am and how to meet other people that aren’t sure where they are at either. So at least we could be at a spot unknown, together. So I won’t be alone in this in-between.

My Boss Thinks I Am Crazy. Again.

I was late to work today.

Not because I slept in or played too long on the computer this morning or because I couldn’t figure out what to wear or because I had a flat tire or because of traffic or because of any other plausible excuse.

I was late to work this morning because on my way into the office, just as I hit the downtown streets, the downtown streets of the fourth largest city in the U.S., at 8 A.M., which is rush hour, in a huge metropolitan city, there was a frigging horse in the road. A HORSE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION IN DOWNTOWN HOUSTON.

What was a horse doing in the middle of a freaking intersection in the middle of rush hour in Houston?

The Horse was surrounded by large buses and a bazillion cars in the middle of an intersection, because the Ass that was riding it was pulling over someone.

A mounted cop, took his horse into the middle of an intersection, causing traffic to back up onto the freeway, causing people to slam on their brakes in order to avoid hitting a HORSE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION in order to pull someone over.

I can’t come up with a good reason to pull over someone that involves taking your HORSE INTO THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION. Can you?

/Rant

Houston Music Fetish

I have been trying for some time to sit down and tell ya’ll about my Sunday. It was a most awesomest Sunday. But then I had the most awesomest Monday, which will or will not be featured another day. Now that it is Tuesday, Kaytabug is bugging me to Plurk and I am being stubborn. I won’t do it until I get this wordy and Youtube intensive research project done. Amen. Word to my Mom.

For many a year now, I have gone to the thingy ma bobber that I went to on Sunday. While out and about, I saw a tee that said 1997, so the event has been going on forev-a. Almost as long as I have been out of high school, which is an eternity. There isn’t a wiki page dedicated to the deal, so I can’t say how long exactly. And, um, could we get a wiki page going, because that is the only place I get my facts. Help a girl out.

Every July, Houston’s “alternative” press paper throws this huge event in downtown. At 17,000 clubs, there are 70 billion different bands playing. You pay a pittance to get into all these venues and see all these bands.

They have every genre imaginable playing at these assorted venues. For the diligent sort, here is a long-azz review of the bands that played this year.

Without further adieu, let’s see who I saw:

At 5 P.M., we started off with Brian’s Johnson (We really did start at 4, but we totally did not like the band that was playing at the venue we selected as a gathering point, so let’s just pretend we were late and started at 5. K? Thx.)

Brian’s Johnson is an ACDC cover band that one person in our entourage had seen the night before and declared them “awesome”. I will say they were good. Not freaking amazing, but strongly good, bordering on great. . . . (youtube search break) . . . Apparently, I will not qualify as an ACDC fan, because it appears that someone in ACDC is named Brian Johnson, hence the name, how clever, Fianna had no clue. Moving on.

I couldn't find a video for your listening pleasure. So here is an ACDC video, imagine other guys up there playing, and fewer people, and you are nearly there.



6 PM – Once it was 6, I was rocking with Mighty Orq. The lead singer, Orq, is freaking awesome. He is a nice guy when a mic isn’t in his face, so he gets extra points. I have seen him many times over the past few years, but the first time I saw him was at the Press Awards years ago, and my ass was shown shaking it on the evening news. The next day, one of the partners came into my office first thing in the morning and asked me about it. Yea. . So yea.

I couldn’t find the song I wanted to link to, but if you work with me a bit, you can hear a small portion of it by going here, and then clicking on Carry Me Home. One of his chillax songs. Not booty shaking. The news didn’t show me while this song was on.

It coulda been this song that introduced my shaking azz to the Houston Lawyer's Association.



The Seven O’Clock special, Fondue Monks, is another repeat that I saw at the Press Awards a while back. We later met the lead singer, “Denver” who was very nice and appreciative and maybe a bit drunk.





8 PM – Skyblue 72 rocked. I saw them for the first time a few months back at my beloved Mucky Duck. When I saw the lineup for the Press Show, I only called this band. I let the others decide on who else we saw as long as I got my Skyblue 72. Girl power, Rwwaarrr.



At 9 P.M., nicely soused, we saw another redo, Lonestar Pornstar. I saw them a couple years ago, and then went to them again the next year and lookie here, they are back again. Awesome band. Awesome way to end the night. Bouncing around to some badass rock.


Their brand of music does not translate well to handheld video cameras or cell phone recordings. I found the following video, but it is totally Milli Vanilli'd.



I hope you guys enjoy a bit of this music. I had a wonderful time seeing some great live acts. If you think I have horrible taste, check out this review of the bands and find somebody better and then come back and tell me about it.

(And let me apologize if this post makes no sense. I know the grammar-ly issue is worse than most of my non-grammar-ious posts. Mama is tired. I have been having lots of fun and my old bones are screaming for sleep.)

Girl Schmirl or The Pugilist (Because I Really Wanted to Use That Word Somewhere)

I am not a girlie girl. I am pretty close to the opposite of one. From what I remember, it has always been this way, which given my upbringing, is odd. I grew up with a sister, my best friends were 3 girls, one of which had a sibling – a girl. There were no boys around when I was growing up, until, of course, they were an object of lust.

For some reason, these girls, my 3 best friends, my sister, and my friend’s sister, I would hesitate to call any of us anything other than tomboys.

Sure, we played with dolls, had a list of boys that we thought were cute, with some convoluted system of rating said cuteness (K – do you have these anymore? Because that – total blog fodder), took home ec, sewed, cooked, etc. and so forth.

Even though now, I won’t go anywhere without painted toenails and lipsticked lips, these are probably the only things that make me a girly girl. If there was a club or an organization of girlness, I would be on probation all the time. Or more likely, banned for life.

For example:

I prefer steak and potatoes to … well anything.

I have had one pedicure in my life, and that was only because the wedding party I was in, all got pedicures. Which just as an aside, the bride, just to point out the type of girls I get involved with, announced loudly while we were getting ready that she needed to go to the bathroom. #2. And she went #2 in her wedding dress. I am pretty sure that she is quite proud of this to this very day. She probably farted really loud walking down the aisle and blamed someone else, too. I know there is a video with her belching into the camera extremely loudly. Again, in her wedding dress. I love that girl.

I have never had a professional massage. I despise chocolate. I hate diamonds.

Friday night, I could have watched either While You Were Sleeping or Pulp Fiction. No way in hell that this was even a contest. Pulp Fiction, even though I have seen it 72,821 times. While You Were Sleeping? I don’t believe I have ever seen it. Nor do I have any desire to do so.

I do have a couple girly friends. Ok, one. She lives in another state – (not Kaytabug). This friend was wishing that we lived in the same area the other day. She commented that if we were in the same city, she would like to go have some coffee and then go see Mamma Mia.

I am not a good friend.

Because I could not stop myself from immediately busting out laughing. Um, Mamma Mia? Do you even know who I am? I would rather go see Batman, X-Files, Step-Brothers, Hellboy or even Journey to the Center of the Earth. Honestly, if I had to choose between Death Race and Mamma Mia? The previews for Death Race make me want to vomit and then fling the vomit at the screen, it is so bad. But if I had to choose between that stupid flick and Mamma Mia, I think I would choose Death Race. At least people would die in Death Race.

Most of the time, my girliness or lack thereof, isn’t on my mind, or considered in any sort of fashion, but between the above movie discussion and my day yesterday, I was quite intrigued by my failure as a chick. Intrigued enough to actually sit and write a post which is something that I have really, really sucked at recently. Although if you knew how exciting my life has been recently, you would so totally forgive me.

Yesterday, we went to a Gun Show. And I totally enjoyed it. And then we went to a friend’s house where they have 2 TV’s. I had a choice between hanging out with the wife watching old X-File episodes(which is a hell of a lot better than any other potential chick watching item) and with the guys and the TV with the PPV boxing.

You know what I chose, of course you do, we are cool like that.

Music Friday - Journey

As soon as you start the video, close your eyes. Halfway through open them. Just trust me on this.




Did he fool you? Here is a small portion of the story behind this.



How cool is that! Thanks to the Houstonist.

Name This Post.

I feel that it is important to accomplish something every day. Big or small. Although the big accomplishments should, of course, outweigh the small on the grand scale. So I live my life that way, curing polio one day, taking a shower the next. Big and small.

Today - I did not punch out the dentist. It took great strength to hold back, yet I did it.

Big or small? Who knows, but now, I can go back to bed.


And if you were wondering where I have been, I blog all the time over at Twitter. Do you have any idea how hard it is to create posts that require over 141 characters? Nearly impossible, folks. I have found just enough strength and not utterly boring stuff to blog at Twitter. One day, I may do better. But today, I didn't punch out anyone. Work with me here.

Oh and think positive thoughts as my sis rides out a hurricane. A baby hurricane, but those things are powerful. 6 hours north of her and we are getting rain bands. Rain bands, much like rubber bands.

(Is this really a blog post or just the mad rantings of an idiot. It is hard to tell sometimes!)

Rhetorical Thought Patterns

I need to start carrying a voice recorder with me. I have some amazingly funny thoughts. Yet I never get them written down and when I remember, hey, you had some unbelievable hilarious stuff to tell the internets, it never fails, my memory falls short.

Yesterday, I had numerous instances like that. There were some very funny things to tell ya’ll about my trip to the downtown grocery store. The one where you park beneath it and you ride an elevator to get to it.

And the bus barn? Or bus stop? Oh wait, terminal. Greyhound has a huge terminal (that is right, right?) in downtown Houston. This area is not for the suburbanite, non-city dweller, not used to seeing people peeing into the gutter. The area frightens me sometimes, me, the one with a crack house on the corner of her street (it is being remodeled now, but I reminisce to the days of yore), the one who recognizes all the panhandlers around her neighborhood, and says hello to them. Transient folks circle the place, I have no idea if they are planning on hijacking a bus or what, but there is a bus/homeless person problem off downtown.

On the way home, again, lots of funny crap swirling in my brain-o, yet I forgot to write it down. There was the caddy with spoke type rims and protrusions from said rims. It reminded me of cowboy spurs or that stupid movie they are showing previews for, Death Race, I think. It is so bad I don’t want to even bother looking it up to get you a proper title. But, this caddy, if it got too close, or if I wandered out of my lane at all, poof, my tires would explode due to his protruding rim thing. Now it is morning, the time when I typically write my ramblings, and I have no idea what my thoughts were. Because the recall I just gave you – not funny.

The actual thoughts last night – Funny with a capital F.

I do recall one not so funny thing. Not nearly as funny as the things I was going to tell you.

When I was doing this carousing downtown yesterday, mid-day, which I am not wont to due typically, I realized I have a lot of those tag things on my keychain. The ones you get from stores.

These things.

I either have my priorities straight or I have a serious drinking problem. (Don’t answer that.)

Two from Spec’s.

You don’t have to laugh, it’s okay. I know my other stuff was freaking hilarious.

Now if I could only figure out where I placed those thoughts.

My Greenery

This is my makeshift patio.



I only know what the 2 right pots are - tomato plant and rosemary, and the front rectangular holder, catnip and basil. The others, mmmeerrr, not a clue.

I took the picture to capture the gross bug on one of the pots. See it?

And yea, I am too lazy to actually go out and look at that little tag on that pot to identify it.

The above photo was taken in early June.

I still have not been able to get those tomatoes to grow. This is my first year trying tomatoes.

The first year I even ate fresh tomatoes.



They really aren't doing well. Really really not doing well these days.



Apparently, even though it rains every single day, the plants didn't get all that water.

I feel such guilt.

I am a plant killer.

I loved my little garden. I used the basil quite frequently.

And my cats, they were developing a bit of a 'nip habit.

Maybe it's all for the best.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!

I hope everyone had a wonderful 4^th. I sure did. We live on the edge of downtown. Very close to city center, very close to where the fireworks are shot off. The nation’s largest firework display – in Houston. I figured if we could watch the fireworks from our place, it would be awesome.

You know what is so much more awesomer? Being invited to a new friend’s house that is blocks from the actual launch site of those fireworks where you are at a perfect eye level just above the tree line, you can feel each firework go off, they feel like they are exploding within just a couple feet from your face and you are drinking the best mojitos gay men can make. I heart living downtown.

We will be moving when the lease on this place is up. There have been weeks worth of discussions and internet searching for where we go next. Do we buy? Do we rent? Where? The ultimate consensus after all these talks is that we will continue living down here. No suburbia for our future.

With the move (in 5 months) in mind, my Type A personality has been freaking out about downsizing our crap stock. I closed shop on my Ebay store a month or so ago after dismal sales. I have pulled all my Ebay stuff together and plan on sorting and selling it in lots, most likely to other sellers.

I have gone through my closet pulling things to get rid. I have gone through the cabinets with the same intention. All in all, I have only 2 garbage bags full of stuff to get rid of outside of the Ebay piles.

This really surprises me. However, I have downsized considerably each time I have moved over the past 3 years. I am now at the point where there just isn’t much more to go. I have quit buying unnecessary knick-knacks and I get rid of clothes as I buy more. And if anyone dare chimes in that a Wii and a Roomba are unnecessary, you are off the Christmas card list. Well, you would be if I ever sent Christmas cards.

I am quite pleased with myself that my consumerism ways have been checked. My savings account reflects it and my closets reflect it. One more way, my Frugal McFrugalitis is working in my favor.

How did you spend your long weekend?

Go Go Gadget!

When I went to my sister’s for a family get-together this past week, I really didn’t mean to spend a fortune on gadgets.

Ok, that is a lie.

I totally planned on buying a Wii as they are known to be quite populous in that area. And where my parents live. Yet Houston, nowhere. Houston, we have a problem. Well, not anymore because I have a Wii now, but we did. I guess…

I did not plan nor expect nor even ponder buying a robot floor cleaning wizard. It was a decision thrust upon me by my pushy big sister.

That’s my story.

And the store was going out of business so it was a steal.

And I have always really wanted one.

And with the recent death and resulting thoughts surrounding wasted time and pointless arguments that I would always regret, over all things, housework… I needed a Roomba.

That may be the real story, although my sister? Really good for the economy. Dubya may want to give her a call.

The Roomba? I lurve it. With all my heart.

It works wonderfully, sucking up all the stray cat fur, litter and various crumbs that 3 cats and 2 humans shed.

It has caused me way too much happiness for being just a simple cleaning tool.

My love for the Roomba Vs. the Wii?

A close race.

I Got My Hair Did!

It started as simply as not feeling comfortable in Oil Field, New Mexico. I didn’t trust my locks to someone whose sister couldn’t serve me a cheeseburger without making me want to cry.

Before last week, the last time I got my hair cut was before moving to BFE, NM, 19 months ago.

Somewhere along the way, I got an idea in my head.

There are 2 organizations (that I am aware of) where I could donate my hair. Locks of Love, the well-known organization that creates wigs for needy children that have suffered hair loss due to a medical condition and Pantene’s Beautiful Lengths program which has partnered up with the American Cancer Society to provide wigs to women with cancer.

The big difference between the two organizations is the length requirements for donated hair. Locks of Love requires 10 inches while Pantene’s requirements are 8 inches.

I am donating my 11” ponytail to Locks of Love.

It may have started with a bit of anger and hatred towards the circumstances of my living situation, but has turned into a wonderful gift to a (presumably) cute little kid.

Now if I could just get used to that stranger in the mirror.

What I Have To Say Now

Thank you to all for the kind words in response to my last post. They really put a smile on my face when it was hard to stop crying, much less smile. I have wondered exactly how much to tell as it is not my tragedy. It is a tragedy belonging to a family I love very dearly. To a friend I call a sister, to her mother, who I call Mom.

The best I can come up with are just some things I really want to say.

Don’t take life for granted. It can end in moments.

The little things count. Make an impression on someone by simply being friendly, considerate, just there. No matter what.

Get your finances in order. Don’t be caught unexpectedly in an emergency. Have some cash stashed. Have a way to pay for expenses that you never ever ever thought you would have to pay.

Work in a job where they care enough to let you leave at a moment’s notice and for as long as necessary for a friend.

Get a will. Also get a living will. Making your family make those decisions… …. Just don’t make them think about it…. Discuss the undiscussable.

Spend more time with people and not so much time online, cleaning, sleeping, and working.

No matter what you say, you can’t say the right thing to make someone who has lost their dad or their husband feel better. There are a lot of wrong things you can say. Don’t say those.

And never, ever forget to wear sunscreen.

Spent

No matter how many emails you read about capitalizing on today, about living life to its fullest, to appreciating every last bit of life, no matter how many, you won’t do it. Laundry, headaches, bad days will get in the way.

And then, It will happen.

The day that those emails allude to. The Thing You Would Rather Not Think About.

So listen to those cheesy emails that your Great-Aunt from Poughkeepsie sends you. Read them, take them to heart.

Because when It happens, you shouldn’t regret the day that never came.

Fianna will be gone for a little while because It happened to a dear friend of hers. Hug your closest loved one, remember those dear to you, cherish today and tomorrow and 2 weeks from last Wednesday.

Because you won’t have it again. No matter how much laundry has piled up, no matter how many times he left the toilet seat up, no matter what. When it is over, you won’t have another chance.

When Slamming Your Car Into Someone's Bumper Is a Good Idea

I have been driving a rental this week after my new (to me) car had to have some work done on it.

First of all, let me just advise the first time callers, as well as remind the long time listeners that my last car was a dearly beloved 10 year old Toyota Corolla with nearly 200K miles on it. I bought it from a rental car company. No hassle, no frills. No floor mats.

On Monday, when I called to let the dealership know that I needed service, they bent over backwards to make sure I was ok, not freaking out and overall, just mildly annoyed. (We had suspected a slight problem when we bought the car, so we figured this was coming.)

A tow truck was called (although one wasn’t really necessary). The tow truck driver, for reals, was there in 20 minutes.

I get to the dealership, where I am offered coffee, water, and chilled virgin ovaries. I was placed in a rental car in 5 minutes and sent on my merry way.

The rental car, the 2008 model of my car, is a space-age rocket ship.

It senses my mere presence, detects what moon it is and has 8.2 million horses. It has advised that I will name my first child, a girl, Sarah Marie. My cat Yoda, she is a hermaphrodite. The real shooter WAS on the grassy knoll while Oswald was merely a pawn, AND on top of all that, it has leather seats!

I received a call later that day from the service manager who advised that it was the caliper, (which I totally knew) and that the caliper, rotors and pads for the rear brakes would all be replaced. He apologized for the inconvenience and threw in an oil change which was nearly due. I, against my original best judgment (and loudly voiced opinions which usually end up being completely wrong), had bought the extended warranty, but rotors and pads aren’t a part of the warranty. I asked the manager if there would be any cost for these repairs and he quickly responded, “Oh, no, ma’am”. I said that I just needed to check, because I didn’t want to be surprised and have to argue with them later. He quickly said, “oh, ma’am, I will never give you a reason to complain”.

So…. The next day around 4:30, I hadn’t heard from the dealership. Knowing the time it would take, in rush hour, to drive to the dealership, I called to check on the repairs. I spoke with unknown positioned, Dana. After giving her just my name, she says “I am sorry” approximately 27 times for not calling sooner. Folks, I am in a rental spaceship that tells me how many miles it is to Mars and what freeway to take. I am doing just fine, Dana. I was just calling because I was curious if I have to return the rocket or if I could drive to Jupiter this fine evening! She explains that it will be another day, says “I’m sorry” 21 more times and asks if there is anything she can do for me. Um….tell the rental to stop telekinetically communicating with the neighborhood cats, I guess. Although them fanning me on my walk to the car – Sweet.

Today, I receive a voicemail from the sweetest kid in the world, advising me that my car is ready and to please call and advise when I will be picking it up so they can award me with Ms. Most Beautiful Car Owner of the World. Me, little ole Fianna!

I am a bit frightened to pick up the car tomorrow. I am wondering if there will be 17 studly men waiting to walk me to it, a pony sitting in the backseat and 10 Wii’s in the trunk.

Lesson to be learned: Buy the absolute cheapest, used car a luxury car dealer has on the lot. You will be treated better than Prince Charles in a gay bar. Wait, I am not sure what that means.

Frugality's Image Problem

I don't know if anyone pays attention to my not-so-frequent additions to the right side section of this blog titled, "In Case of Boredom..." I not-so-frequently add links from around the bloggy world of various things that have caught my eye/attention. Many of these have to do with personal finance of some sort.

I don't write about money, but I work quite hard at saving, scrimping, and frugality of all sorts.

I do this for several reasons: I find it fun to figure out ways to save money, I like collecting cash, I want to buy a house soon, and I want to retire early so I can tan on my patio nekkid on a Tuesday morning when, if the pool boy just happens to walk up on me, he won't scream out of fear.

I catch a good amount of ribbing from a few friends of mine and from Not Craig for my habits, what they consider my cheapness. They don't get my thrift store habit, they don't know why I don't want to stop and get Starbucks daily, or go out to eat several times a week.

Trent over at The Simple Dollar, (hands down, my favorite PF blogger), has written an excellent article that I want to tape to Not Craig's and my silly friend's foreheads. Instead, I will post it here. I would rather not waste the paper.


Check it out!

Wordpress or Blogger??

I have been playing with Wordpress today and have done what I can to create a page there.

Check it out: http://fiannas.wordpress.com/

My big question is, I do not like the standard templates provided by Wordpress. I would like to use the many random skins available online, but it appears that I must pay for the premium CSS components. In fact, just in order to change the colors on their standard templates, it appears that I must pay. It seems nuts. Tell me it is not true.


For those Wordpress fans, please let me know your favorite things on Wordpress v. Blogger.

Right now, my comfort level is with Blogger, but I am a fickle sort.