DAY 195: Financial Freakout.

Tonight, one night before my self-imposed deadline, I sat down to finally do my taxes. I was very excited about seeing how much money I was going to get back.

Usually (I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this) my dad does my taxes. Last year was that first year I did them all on my own, and it wasn’t even that hard. Thanks Turbo Tax!

This year seemed like it would be even easier since Turbo T. remembered all of my information. I thought I would be able to breeze right through it, punching in some numbers and hitting the “next” button over and over. It didn’t matter that I was watching Cannibal the Musical with Jeffrey, Jeannie and A.Rod, and that I had eaten a 1/4 of a pot cookie, right?

Well, when I got to the end, the little box that last year had a three digit green number that started with an 8, now had a red number. Why is it red, and why does it only start with a two? That can’t be right. Wait, why is it asking if I want to pay by check or credit card? WHAT????????? I OWE MONEY???????????

This has to be some sort of mistake. I never owe money on my taxes. I mean, come on, taxes already take almost 1/3 of my paycheck, there is no way that they are coming after me for more, right? RIGHT???

So now I am freaking out and I don’t know what to do. If I don’t get any money back I will be very, very upset.

Looks like I’ll be calling my dad tomorrow, and once again, asking him to (re)do my taxes.

DAY 194: Strange Passings.

This morning was supposed to be my first Saturday working my new Mon-Tues, Thurs-Sat schedule.

Last night, after a few brewskies and a vigorous game of Celebrity with Jeffrey’s friends, I was so tired that, although I managed to set my alarm, I never turned it on.

I was supposed to be to work at 9am. I didn’t wake up until 10:45am when my co-workers finally texted me, asking me if I was alive.

As if my normal routine wasn’t already thrown off-kilter enough by having to work a Saturday, I was now also three hours late.

Really, it was the perfect beginning for an an odd day that ended up being filled with strange happenings, including:

*As I was rushing up 8th Ave to get to work, some random guy leaned into me as I passed by him and whispered, “Nice pants.” He definitely wasn’t gay, so I know he wasn’t hitting on me. And I was just wearing my normal Levi Slim Straights, so I doubt he was actually impressed by my pants. My only other two thoughts was that he was either trying to sell me drugs, or that he was an undercover agent and he mistook me for his contact. Man, he must have been awfully confused when I didn’t turn around and whisper back to him, “The eagle flies high over the Hudson River.“

*Tonight I went and saw my dear Shalisha in a reading of an Alan Ayckbourn play. It was at Gentlemen’s Club on the East Side that was full of stuffy old men in tweed jackets and their long, dangly-necklace-wearing wives. Seriously, everyone looked like retired professors and I’m pretty sure that the smell of mouth balls permeated through out the room. I felt quite underdressed in my jeans, which has been a reoccurring theme in my life lately. The play itself was not bad, except it was a bit strange to see my sweet, innocent, cherubic Sha, stuck in a love triangle with two men who are definitely eligible for the senior discount at Dennys. Woof!

*This is more annoying than strange, but on my way home tonight, it took me 45 minutes to get from Union Square to Lorimer on the g.d. L train. (For all you non-New Yorkers, they’re only 4 stops apart.) What sort of mystery track work is going on and 12:15am on a Saturday night, is beyond me.

DAY 193: A Savings Plan.

Today a miracle occurred, I opened up a savings account. I’ve only had a savings account twice in my life before.

My first savings account, I started when I was in high school. I used to be very good with money. Besides baby sitting, I also started a lawn mowing service on my block. I hated moving the lawn. More than anything. But I loved making money.

By the time I went off to college I think I probably had about $1,000 in savings. However, I blew that Freshman year when I went off to Ecuador for a month. After that, any financial responsibility I previously had, was out the window. I became one of those people who thought balancing their checkbook, meant getting a receipt from the ATM machine.

After college, instead of having a savings account, I transferred all of my money to the bank of Mom & Dad. I owed them for car and college payments. Thank god they didn’t charge interest.

My second savings account I opened once I was out of debt. I was working yet another job I hated, at yet another pharmacy. I told myself I couldn’t quit my job until after I had $5,000 saved up. That $5,000 was also going to be my money for moving to New York.

After I had the money saved up, and after I quit my job, I still stuck it out in Minneapolis for another year. During that time I work worked at a coffee shop, a cafe, and was unemployed for a few months. And even though my rent was ridiculously cheap at the time ($285!), I was forced to dip into my savings.

When I moved to NY, I only had about $3,000 left. But luckily, that was just enough to keep me afloat until I got settled. Now, for the past 2.5 years, I’m not exactly sure what I have been spending my money on. But at least I know I’ve had a lot of fun doing it.

However, it’s now time to put a stop to that. I’m finding myself at a point in my life where I want to make a big change again. I want to quit my job and try to start to support myself as a writer. But before I make that leap, I want my safety net of money to catch me if I fall.

My goal was to quit my job before my next birthday. At first I told myself $5,000 would be enough. But considering I live in NY, and pay almost 3x’s the rent, I feel like maybe that 5 should be a 10. $10,000 is six months? I’m gonna have to suck a lot of dick for that.

And actually, the only reason I was able to open up a savings account right now, is because Jeffrey and I have stopped paying rent.

Hopefully, a few more months rent-free + tax refund + 3 pay period in May = $5,000 by summer.

But how I’m going to get that next $5,000 is beyond me. That’s gonna take quite a few more miracles.

DAY 192: Other News.

Tonight I had a very productive evening of grocery shopping, doing laundry, doing the dishes, cleaning my room and baking. Of course, I also managed to squeeze in a good 3-4 hours of TV wacthing. But I like to put a positive spin on that and say that I did a good job of catching up on all my shows.

In other news, my co-workers wanted me to come out with them after work tonight for drinks. I can’t decide if it’s cute that they still don’t understand I will never like them, or annoying.

In other, other news… Jeffrey talked to our landlord twice today. Once on the phone and once in person. It seems that someone isn’t too happy about his tenants not paying rent. He threatened to take us to housing court. Hmm, it’s funny that he’s finally contacting us now… 5 days before rent April’s is due.

DAY 191: How I Plan To Meet My Future Husband.

We meet in a bookstore. Lord knows why I’m in a bookstore, maybe it’s raining outside or I’m shopping for a friend’s birthday present.

I find him browsing in the History section. He’s tall, dark, handsome and 45. He’s well dressed in a casual way that says, Yeah I have lots of money, but clothes aren’t that important to me. He is wearing jeans, not slacks. He doesn’t even own a pair of slacks.

He smiles at me. Embarrassed, I advert my eyes to the nearest shelf, except the nearest shelf happens to be the Gay & Lesbian section, which only embarrasses me more.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he says with a smile, “but do you have any good recommendations for a book on Victorian society?“

“Sorry, only movies,” I tell him.

He smiles again and his eyes get all squinty, almost Asian, like mine.

“I’m trying to find a good book to read at my country home upstate,” he tells me.

“Doesn’t your boyfriend have any recommendations?” I ask, almost too sarcastically.

He is silent for a moment.

“No,” he replies, blinking his eyes rapidly to keep the tears back. “He dumped me, and as a result, I now have trust issues.“

He’s standing in front of me like a sad puppy dog, and it’s at that exact moment, I know that I’m in love with him.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I have trust issues too.“

As he wipes the tears off his cheek we have a good laugh about how ridiculous we just sounded. We decide to go get a cup of coffee together and talk about our insecurities.

For fun, on our way out he grabs the nearest book off the shelf and sticks it in his satchel… not because he can’t afford it, but because he likes to be spontaneous every now and again.

AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER…

DAY 190: Fun With Money (That Was Already Spent.)

Well, it looks like I’m finally starting to turn things around for myself financially. Today I was able to pay off my credit card in full, for the first time since November. And the good news is that I haven’t even done my taxes yet or used any of the money that should have been my rent money. I plan to take my should-have-been-rent money and open up a savings account later this week. Isn’t my life exciting!?!

I’ll tell you what is exciting though, I got my 2007 Summary Report from my credit card! I love these things.

Here are some fun facts about my spending last year:

*February was my most frugal month, spending only $462.78.

*I want balls crazy in September and spent $2,498.87. (Most of this was on new IKEA furniture and a shitload of paint.)

Also, I spent:

*$1,000 on improv classes. (That’s actually an improvement from the past two years.)

*$488.91 on airfare.

*$398.67 on iTunes. (Yikes.)

*$459.00 at American Apparel. (Double yikes.)

*$839.86, not counting tip, on my hair. (Yes, I’m very ashamed.)

The odd thing is, looking at this report, I figured out that only 35% of my yearly salary is spent using my credit card. That seems low. And if only 25% is spent paying my rent, then what happened to that last 40%?

Sadly, I think my answer is taxes. Thanks US government. You suck.

DAY 189: Last Supper.

Today was my parent’s last day in town. With Jeannie in tow, I took them to the Macy’s Flower Show (which was a real claustrophobic nightmare), gave them their daily does of NY exercise by walking them from Midtown to the Chelsea Piers, and then took advantage one last time of getting a free meal out of them.

We ate at Tortilla Flats where I consumed way too many chips & salsa, the world’s cheesiest enchilada, and a third of a pitcher of margaritas. And then, as if we weren’t stuffed enough, on our way back up to the subway we stopped at Chelsea Market for some ice cream.

I said good-bye to my parents back at their hotel, and then pretty much spent the rest of my evening complaining about how full I was.

Even if I bitched about having to entertain them constantly, I had a good time with my parents. However, at the same time, I’m happy to have my life get back to normal now. Except for the going back to work part. And for the not eating for free part.

Although, I’m still pretty full. So I’m not missing that yet. In fact, I ate so much these past five days that it might be time for me to go back on the Master Cleanse. Just kidding, my mom brought Girl Scout cookies for me. I can’t go on the MC until those are gone. So like, tomorrow then.

DAY 188: A Drunken, Homosexual, Pescatarian Easter.

The title pretty much says it all.

Our Easter Sunday drinking started off early this year. After a nice leisurely stroll through Central Park with Jeannie and Adam, we stopped for drinks at some dive bar my dad found earlier in the week, and was just dying to go to. His main objective for going there was to watch the golf tournament and embarrass his family by shouting at Tiger Woods on the TV.

Two beers later we were off to meet up with Sha for dinner at 44 1/2 in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s a tre-gay restaurant that I took my parents to the last time they were in town. They liked the food, and I liked watching them trying to act comfortable while being surround by a bunch of homos. For dinner everyone ordered fish. Score one for the pescatarians.

Two bottles of wine later, we hopped a cab and headed down to the Blue Note, to listen to a Minneapolis-based jazz group, The Bad Plus. We almost didn’t get seats, but they managed to cram us in at two separated tables: Me and Sha at one, my mom and dad at another. My dad managed to embarrassed us from far away, by yelling out “Thank you, Minneapolis!” to the band.

Two Gin & Tonics later my parents grabbed another cab, and Sha and I parted ways to our respective subway stations.

It was a very fun day, and a true Easter miracle occurred: My parents didn’t force me to go to church with them! So I guess you can add “Heathen” to my list of adjectives.

Happy Easter Everyone!

Me & My Peep.

DAY 187: Yes, I’m A Bitch. But Only Because You Made Me One.

Today was another long day with the parents: Brooklyn Botanical Garden, Brooklyn Museum, and Brooklyn’s #1 Pizza Spot Grimaldi’s, where we waited in line for an hour (or an hour and 5 mins to be exact, according to my dad) for a table.

It was a good day, but a bit tiring. I got home early-ish, took a shower to wash the pizza-stank off of me, and put on my sweats and a hoodie. I was sort of looking forward to crashing early with some Netflix, but my Boo, Robert, was coming over for ladies night out with Jeffrey. They wanted to go check out the new Billyburg Gay Oasis, Sugarland, and this is one little alcoholic homo that never says no to drinks and hot grunge boys.

We called a car service and took a strange ride through the Hasidic Hood, where traffic was backed up, thanks to a bunch of rented out RVs full of teenage Hasids celebrating Purim.

At the bar (which is literally the only building on the block amongst much construction and rubble) we ran into a bunch of people Jeffrey knew, and grabbed a sunken alcove of seats that gave us a little person’s view of the dance floor.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not always good about being sociable, especially with new people that I don’t know. It’s a problem. I’m aware of it. I’m trying to work on it.

Had I not been so tired tonight, I probably would have tried harder to present myself as a warm, friendly, conversationalist. But instead, I was just content to sit back and people watch/ogle.

I know that the new gays mistook my silence for bitchiness, grumpiness, and/or judge-y queeniness… and that I should have done something to rectify the situation. But honestly, when that happens, it’s just easier to play the part that has already been assigned to me. So instead of being all flirty and feeding people’s already inflated egos, I decided to just chill in the corner and do my own thing.

Also, in my defense, it’s hard to carry on a decent conversation with someone who starts by saying, “Oh my god, I swear, BlackBerrys are like, the worst invention ever!” Paris Hilton, I am not.

So to review: I’m a bitch, but it’s not my fault. It’s yours. Now leave me alone. I hate you.

DAY 186: Three Days.

Three days. That’s how long it took for my parents to get in to a fight. My parent’s have a very loving relationship, but they also drive each other crazy sometimes… which in turn, drives me crazy and makes me swear to myself that I’ll stay single for the rest of my life.

I took my parents to the East Village for dinner tonight, in search of a good fish restaurant. My dad found one that had a fish on their sign, looked at the menu outside and decided that we would be eating there. When my mother looked at the menu, she declared that out of the 8 fish plates, she didn’t like any of them. Honestly, I think she was just mad at my dad for deciding that was would eat there without consulting with us first.

Trying to keep the peace, I told my dad that maybe we should go elsewhere. After being married to my mother for 35+ years, and knowing how stubborn she can be, my dad should have been smart enough to agree. But instead, my father is just as stubborn, and he had already made up his mind that we would be eating their no matter what.

It wasn’t until my mom said, “Fine, we’ll eat here,” in that all-too-familiar tone that clearly translates to: “I’m not gonna be happy about it, and I will make this visibly obvious through out the entire meal,” that my dad agreed to go somewhere else. But by then it was too late, and my mother had already decided to just be miserable for the entire meal.

It was at this point that my dad called my mom a martyr, my mom blew up at him, and I wanted to die. And then we entered the restaurant…

Most of the meal was spent in silence, which was extremely unfortunate since we were seated next to three loud-mouthed girls who thought they were just like the gals on Sex and the City, because they talked openly about sex, pooping, and said fuck a lot.

My (least?) favorite quote came from their out-of-town friend who said, “Oh yeah, I take Miralex. It’s great. I poop at least once a day. Sometimes twice. I haven’t pooped yet today, but I knew I wouldn’t because I’m in a different place.” Classy.

I thought for sure by the time we got through the bottle of wine, everyone would have loosened up a bit. (Pun intended for the girl who couldn’t poop.) But my parents were still pretty silent. Although, that could also be because we’ve run out of stuff to talk about. Three is also the magical number of days that it takes for us to have nothing left to say to each other.

After dessert, I sent my parents on their way back to their hotel, and I met up with Jeannie and Jeffrey for some much needed drinks.

I’m sure by tomorrow my parents will be fine… until they find something else stupid to fight over. But hey, that’s married life for you.