We fired the cable company

They had it coming.  After years of fighting with the cable company over erroneous billing, poor customer service and random outages, my husband and I gave them the pink slip.  The last straw was yet another billing increase, when we had downgraded to the smallest available cable package: Basic Minimum.  After being constantly bombarded with direct mail pieces for the latest “bundled” special, we gave them the chance to make a decent offer — then we gave them the boot.  Bye bye, and good riddance.

We did the same thing a year ago to the other quasi-monopoly services industry: the phone company.  With the dawn of Internet-based phone services, we finally had an alternative to the tele-giant.  We take great joy from telling Big Bell’s telemarketers who we have service with.  They invariably cut their pitches short, knowing that is one monthly payment with which they can’t compete.

Now we plan to test the waters of satellite television.  I must admit, I am a skeptic.  But I have also noticed that satellite TV has come a long way since the days when a few clouds could disrupt service and you had to watch the same channel on every TV.  I formed my opinion on them a decade ago, and it’s unfair to think there’s been no progress, so I’ll give them a shot.  It seems they finally figured out the mystery of how to give you the local channels, too.

The other driving factor leading us to make these adjustments should come as no surprise to anyone who’s read one of my posts before.  We are flat broke.  By changing to satellite and moving Internet from cable to DSL, we save $60 a month.  It’s not a fortune, but it’s another week’s groceries.  We are even considering getting rid of our phone service altogether.  It appears to actually be a trend now to forgo a landline in favor of using cell phones exclusively.  We only used our house phone for 86 minutes last month, and I’d be willing to bet that 20 of those minutes were spent trying to hang up on telemarketers.  If we turn it off we save almost $30 a month more.

Now, if I could only get my husband to find a way out of that gym membership contract.  No one from this house has been to the gym in two months.  I still can’t believe he signed up, apparently thinking that we were going to magically trade a lifetime of laziness for a consistent fitness routine.  It’s such a cliché.

The supersized me

Here I go, reading yet another article that makes me feel bad about myself. Not because it’s meant to crush a person’s self-esteem, but because it lists the reasons something in life is going badly for you, and I identify with the problem and most of its factors. Last time I was enlightened to the reasons (or some of them) why I am in the poorhouse. Now I can see in print many of the reasons I’ve gained 15 pounds in the past year. Sadly, I already knew this to a degree — it’s just so much more disheartening to see it in print.

The headline grabbed me: “Fast-food portions keep getting bigger,” and the article disgusted me. I feel a personal fast-food ban coming own after I recognized my own habits in the story. Of course, my ban on fast-food as a result of screening “Supersize Me” only lasted a few weeks, then slowly returned to its pre-documentary levels. In my defense, I had only gained about five pounds when I saw that, so my motivation was less urgent than it is now. This time I have to be more diligent and vigilant. My mantra: I will no longer succumb to the tantalizing marketing efforts of fast-food! Or perhaps a shorter reminder: “Don’t buy the fat!”

Personally, I love a Big Gulp, or any similarly-named cup of soda that’s so large your hand can hardly wrap around enough to hold it. I’m a thirsty girl. Diet drinks taste terrible to me, and it seems such a waste to get the combo with a water, the one beverage I always have at home. Even so, I manage to trick myself into believing that it’s just a drink — that’s not fattening. Oh yeah? The article reminds me that the 42-ounce now offered at the drive-thru has over 400 of sugar-laden calories. The upgraded Double Gulp, coming in at a whopping 64 ounces (if you really want it to sound bad, that’s a half-gallon) contributes over 800 nutritionally void calories. Still, no fat grams, but plenty of waist expansion potential, not to mention diabetic poison.

As I recoil from the horror of my liquid caloric intake, I get smacked by the burger/fries one-two punch. I never pretended either of these menu choices weren’t loaded with fat and other detestable substances, but it’s easy to rationalize the rest of my fast-food accepting behavior. Don’t feel like cooking? Drive-thru. No food in the house? Drive-thru. Low on cash and time? Drive-thru solves that, too. Kids whining for a happy meal? You guessed it. Suddenly, I’m adding up our fast-food runs and my stomach turns at the same frequency. I didn’t realize we had become such good customers. Why don’t they know us by name?

The msnbc.com article credits the fast-food chains’ marketing wizardry and overall trickery with at least a part of the nation’s obesity problems. They changed the names of the portion sizes to suggest smaller amounts, then actually enlarged the portions. Items on the menu that seem healthy, a salad, for instance, are often just as fattening as the burgers. As Americans grow in girth, fast-food chains unveil new items at increasingly unhealthy heights. On our part, we support this, because we continue to eat there.

It isn’t suggested that you should never eat fast-food; rather, the article offers tips to minimize the damage. Order small sizes, eat slowly, get a side salad instead of fries, and split your meal with someone or save half for later. All great ideas that I don’t implement. So, as I begin my latest fast-food ban, knowing that I will end up under the Golden Arches at some point, I at least promise that before I stuff the largest “value” off the dollar menu into my mouth, I’ll remember to order a water and a side salad, and to save some for later (usually it’s less appealing after a few hours in the fridge and you don’t want it anymore anyway…).

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Article: What happens when we sleep

The fine line between frightening and funny

As Halloween approaches, cable television has horror movies on a loop and neighbors decorate with fake cobwebs, half-buried skeletons, and spiders a’plenty. This holiday is fast gaining momentum in retail, falling short only of spending for the Christmas season, because most of America has a love/hate relationship with being scared.

Sure, you can dissect the underlying reasons for this love/hate feeling based on people’s psychological and physiological responses, and explain away the dichotomy. But it’s so much more interesting to just test the theory yourself. I happen to enjoy doing this.

I like to think that I don’t scare easily, but that’s not really true. For the most part, there has never been a horror movie that has truly scared me; usually I’m too grossed out or desensitized by all of the superfluous gore and violence. Occasionally, something or someone can make me jump (I don’t scream, I gasp at most), but that’s a cheat. Startling someone is not the same as scaring them. For some reason, though, startling someone is hilarious for the sneak, but less than funny for the victim. (See related story, below for a cheap scare.)

The times that I have been truly scared were usually self-induced. Even if some other person set the event in motion, it was me that made it worse. I just let my mind take off on what-if scenarios; I start seeing movement out of the corners of my eyes. It’s the mental images I come up with, like the one of the wolf jumping our back fence onto our deck at night(impossible, and I have no idea why it occurs to me), that give me the creeps. Just when I start exhibiting a little paranoia, I realize how silly it is.

Fear is often irrational; irrational is sometimes funny. Fear is funny. It’s an imperfect formula, but it holds true much of the time. There’s a subject that weirds me out so much that I cannot even talk about it. I have a good reason — I don’t want to admit or deny existence of anything, lest it feel the need to prove itself to me. To me, that’s logical. To my husband and everyone he tells, trying to make it a topic of conversation so I have to say something, it’s irrational and funny.

Halloween’s just over a week away, and I’ve noticed that the Internet has increased its spooky circulation of viral videos and e-mails. I received an e-mail from my mother-in-law a few days ago. The subject line said it was a forward, and I didn’t get around to opening it before my husband asked me about it. I confessed that I hadn’t looked at the e-mail yet, which contained a video. He told me he had seen it, and he told me the premise, which was a written prologue on the video. In retrospect, this made the whole thing more credible for me. Let’s just say that I did see what the video wanted me to see. 

To avoid ruining or influencing anyone’s response — for those who have not seen it, read the caption above the video player first, then turn your sound on and click play below — I’ll let you come to your own conclusion. Frightening? Funny? Neither or both? My reaction surprised me, but it wasn’t fear or laughter. Watch the clip, and you be the judge.

This is a car advertisement from Great Britain. When they finished filming the ad, the film editor noticed something moving along the side of the car, like a ghostly white mist. They found out that a person had been killed a year earlier in that exact same spot. The ad was never put on TV because of the unexplained ghostly phenomenon.

Watch the front end of the car as it clears the trees in the middle of the screen and you’ll see the white mist crossing in front of the car then following it along the road……Spooky! Is it a ghost, or is it simply mist? You decide. If you listen to the ad, you’ll even hear the cameraman whispering in the background about it near the end of the commercial. A little creepy but pretty cool!

Article: Attack of the genetic sheep: How not to over-react to scientific advances 

The shut-off valve broke on my money faucet

I’ve got my coffee and my laptop this morning, doing what my daughter calls “enjoining the quiet.” The girls are still asleep and I’ve been catching up on some mindless reading. I came across an article on MSN Money titled, “10 little expenses that add up fast.” I expect items such as cable movie packages, nights on the town and electric bills.  What I get is a slap in the face.

Of the 10 “little things,” my husband and I are guilty of eight, habitually. The tagline warns that these expenses blow thousands of dollars per year, and I wince, recalling our daily conversations about bank account conservation. Somehow, we attribute the fact that we are bleeding money to other unnecessary purchases, when MSN Money tactfully points out the real unnoticed “money traps.” Now I feel obligated to heed this warning, thus heightening my feelings of deprivation.

What makes the list? At number one, coffee. Seeing as how I opened this post talking about my morning java, I think it’s obvious that it’s one of my expenditures. This one is justifiable, though, as I cannot effectively start my day with a glass of water, and even if milk was caffeinated, it costs over $4 a gallon. It’s not like I buy gourmet blends or a Venti at Starbucks, which is what the article is really focused on. I’ll just have to make adjustments elsewhere. I’m not giving up my cup o’ joe.

Number two: Cigarettes. Okay, I know they’re $4 a pack and that they kill you, but what goes better with a cup of coffee in the morning? My husband has an alternate tobacco habit that also strains our budget, and he’s not keen on quitting either. Yes, we should kick the butts, thereby extending our lives and our dollars. I’ll put a check next to this one and go spend $45 on nicotine replacement aids.

Coming in at number three: Alcohol. Maybe we’d be better off if it was against our religion. Hubby’s the one breaking the bank on this one, sampling a different six-pack every other day. I think he’s aiming to be a connoisseur of the microbrews. Personally, I prefer a glass of wine with dinner. Moderation is key, and most of the time we are able to keep that in perspective. When the girls spend the night away from home, though, all bets are off. Since the article assumes the beverages are being purchased from a bar, and that we require hoity cocktails prepared by a “mixologist” who expects a tip, our purchases obviously don’t count. Most of our imbibing is done at home, with our own bottle opener and martini shaker.

The next expense on the list has made the headlines a lot lately: Bottled water. I agree with conservationists and global warming alarmists on this one. It is wasteful to buy a 20-ounce bottled water from the convenience store when you can tote your own tap water, which is really the same quality, in a reusable container. I almost never buy bottled water at the gas station. I usually buy a 20-ounce Coke, and my husband purchases at least two Mountain Dews a day. MSN Money wasn’t talking about that, so this expense doesn’t apply, right?

Finally! Number five is manicures, and I haven’t one in two years. The article estimates over $1,000 a year for weekly manicures, so I can count that money saved. I’m no princess. We avoid spending for number six, car washes, as well. That’s what rain is for. We only pay for those when the vehicles are so dirty that they’re embarrassing, or when some fool writes, “Wash me” on the tailgate.

Numbers seven and eight are weekday lunches out and vending machine purchases, respectively. While I am unemployed, I have refrained from those purchases. Of course, that savings is more than offset by my lack of income, so I don’t know if that’s saying much. Hubby still shells out for both, though he buys fast food and honey buns, and we all know that foods laden with trans fats and empty calories are far cheaper than real nutrition.

MSN gets self-righteous with its number nine pick: Credit card interest. Of course we pay exorbitant charges; if we were good at earning and saving we wouldn’t be reading this article. Short of filing bankruptcy, which would forever feed my Catholic guilt, we can’t do much about that loss at the time. If we don’t make the payments the credit companies would probably repo our kids.

The last item is the most hurtful, but it also allows me a solid “I told you” to my husband. Apparently many well-meaning people fork over high monthly charges for unused gym memberships. In an effort to boost the well-being of our family, my husband signed his life away, committing to a one-year contract with a local “health and wellness” club. At nearly twice the monthly charge estimated in the MSN Money article, we throw money away every month we don’t use the membership. I’ve never been at all and I think my husband has been twice. The saddest part is that his company reimburses over half of the membership fee if he goes just eight times a month. But we are lazy bums, just like I reminded my husband before he signed up.

This would be the part of the post where I sum up the moral of the story. Unfortunately, I’m too preoccupied with how bad my nails look. Don’t despair, I’ll go outside with my coffee, smoke a cigarette and think about it. I’m sure it will come to me. 

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Obviously, I need to make some money. If you click here and read an article about five things that kill good writing (I should know — how to kill it, I mean), I’ll earn a whole penny!

One is the loneliest number, but we are three

My husband took off for a weekend of football and beer and left me to fend for myself against the mighty power of two little girls who know they suddenly outnumber Mommy. It’s not such a big deal, except that I happen to enjoy football and beer. The reason I was excluded is because the dynamics change when you take young children to a football game — it dramatically decreases the opportunity to enjoy the beer. So I’ll just watch the game on TV, drink some sweet tea, and teach my girls how to cheer for the team. (I don’t know all of “Two Bits,” but I do know the improvised lyrics to Rock and Roll, Part 2: “Hey! Hey! Hey! We’re going to beat the hell out of you!” Don’t judge, they’d hear it at the game anyway.)

Actually, just as I begin to feel more depressed to be uninvited this weekend, my 18-month-old circles the room wearing one sock and carrying her stuffed tiger kitten, howling. That’s her answer to “What’s a kitty cat say?” It’s actually more accurate than saying “meow,” especially if we modified the question to ask “What’s an alley cat say?” I can’t help but laugh. Then, to cap off her performance, she unfolds the laundry from the table and puts a pair of her sister’s underwear on her head. Ta-da!

I know everyone needs some alone time, but I like to get mine while someone is just in another room and not bothering me. I’ve never been one to enjoy actual solitude. If my little comediennes weren’t here I would be climbing the walls. My four-year-old is my sensitive daughter; she sits beside me with her head on my arm and keeps up a steady stream of chatter.  Tonight we’ll lie in bed and giggle and girl talk about dreams and things we love.  She always sleeps with me when her dad’s gone; I pretend it’s for her sake, but I’m the one that wants company. Maybe the baby can sleep with us tonight, too, if she’ll hold still.

My hubby’s only going to be gone tonight and tomorrow night, and I’ll be busy enough chasing the girls and the puppy while trying to keep the condition of the house from worsening any more. My girls not only prevent me from being lonely when my husband’s gone, but they provide excellent entertainment. In fact, as I wrap up this post, I look up to respond to my preschooler’s, “Mommy, I love you,” and catch her little sister trying to get Elmo to drink out of her sippy cup as he and Curious George sit with panties on their heads.

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P.S. In keeping with my campaign to earn $3.oo by Sunday night, I need you to click here and read (or don’t) this article on tickling. I know it’s a riveting subject, just try to calm yourself. Like I said, I work with the titles they provide.  I just want to win the damned contest!