"Goddamn it!"

I knew exactly what pocket of my fabulous new purse I had placed the parking garage ticket in and now it was gone. Completely vanished. I swept my hand around the interior of my entire bag with no luck. My purse was even clean, having just transferred a limited number of items from my old handbag to the new one. It had to be there.

But it wasn't. I turned all the lights on inside my car in order to better search the front passenger seat better. Still nothing. I didn't have any pockets, so it wasn't hidden anywhere on my body. I hadn't moved it or touched it during my meeting at a Seattle restaurant. I had hardly done anything with my purse the entire time.

You know the parking garage rule if you lose your ticket, right? You pay the maximum amount. And this garage's maximum was $40. Not a lot by most garage standards, but more than the $12 or $16 I was expecting. And hey, I live in a one-income household now. I have to save that money for extravagant purchasing of unnecessary goods. Oh, and bills. After a good 15 minutes of searching I gave up a faced the inevitable and drove the plank.

"Hi," I started as I rolled down my window and extended my credit card, my mouth babbling frantically, "I lost my parking ticket. I know...I'm so sorry. I know it means I have to pay the maximum. I just, I don't know what happened to it. I put it in my purse and it just disappeared. I just had it! I don't know where it went! Here's my card." At that point I realized I had been talking at the attendant while he just stared at me so I shut the hell up.

I received a big sigh in return and, "What time did you get here?"

"I had a meeting at 11 so I was here at 10:45."

"OK. Write down your name and phone number on this new ticket and I'll swipe it. It will act like your ticket." He handed me a blank parking stub.

"OK?" I wasn't going to argue. I would have given him my social security number and the promise of my first born as at this point as it appeared I was going to get away with the downtown parking equivalent of murder. Or if not murder, at least a felony hit and run (I know, I know crime isn't a joke, you don't need to remind me). I passed back my contact information and he gave me a receipt for $16.

As I started the dance of thanking him profusely, he leaned over and grasped a stack of receipts and pulled one free.

"See here? This is the last person today who lost their parking ticket." A very clearly $40 charge printed dead center stared back at me. My profuse thanks went up a notch. I wondered if I should get out and hug him. Thank God a car pulled up behind me, forcing me to pull forward, leaving the parking garage and the attendant behind.

I'm not exactly sure what it was that prompted the parking garage attendant to give me the cheaper parking rate. It's true, I was having an excellent hair day yesterday as well as wearing a fabulous new outfit. But he could only see so much from behind the car door. And maybe he thought he was hitting on me? Although I was clearly wearing my wedding ring. Are things going to be awkward now? Does this mean I have park someplace else now even though this is the best parking garage in Seattle?

Sigh - weep - sob! /drama

Posted by: Ensie at 04:13 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 634 words, total size 3 kb.

With the upcoming change in the law (ESSB 5037 Bans driving while using a handheld cell phone without a hands-free device, starting in July 2008) regarding cellphone use while driving I contacted Bob's Hogs about providing me with an earpiece for my current adorable cell phone. I love my phone. It replaced my Nintendo 64 of phones that I carried for several years until it died a tragic death that may or may not involve a cereal bowl half full of milk and a precariously balanced phone on a shoulder.

My current phone, the AT&T LG CG225, has been very easy to use for business purposes. The address book has been especially great, allowing me to enter people in and add up to three phone numbers per person, note if they are colleagues, VIPs, or family. I also have a number of pictures stored on my phone, my wallpaper was a picture of Pharaoh sleeping.

Bob's Hogs apparently does not send out earpieces for my beloved CG225. They informed me earlier this week that I would be sent something new and Bluetooth compatible. Once the fancy, new phone arrived I would need to purchase an "earbud" myself and become one of those obnoxious people who wander around grocery stores appearing to talk to themselves.

The new phone arrived today and it's a Razr of of all hideous awful things! Seriously - a Razr!? I fucking hate these things. They're ugly and uncomfortable to use and the internal address book sucks ass. I can't believe I've got to carry one. Ugh.

I did download a couple of new ringtones - "Popular" and "What Is This Feeling" from Wicked (SHUT UP)- to make my new phone a little more likeable.

Plus there's the pink Bluetooth earbud thing I found. Which is pretty cute.

The irony of all this is that I should really be carrying a Crackberry, as I'm in outside sales for Bob's Hogs. I spend a lot more time in the office than I should because I'm tied to my computer. Bob's Hogs won't give their Sales Team Blackberries, so we get Razrs instead. According to Beet the official reasons are things like, "You can't be trusted with expensive pieces of equipment like that."

"You mean, like our laptops?"

Doh! Hole in that logic!

Posted by: Ensie at 10:24 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 388 words, total size 3 kb.

It's long been suspected that I am a bit of a shopaholic. My house would confess this sin with closets busting with too many clothes and and a large tower of shoe boxes. At one point in time I owned 37 pairs of pants of varying types, styles, and fabrics. In my defense, not all of them fit or were in wearable shape at the time. I am afraid to count the current number of pairs of pants that I own for fear I may eclipse the aforementioned number.

I grew up in a middle class family that didn't make a lot of money, but sacrificed to allow me to have a broken-down horse that was a gift from a family friend, eventually trading up to a nice horse that was moderately priced. As I grew up, my Father worked extremely hard and earned a much better income that allowed my younger teenaged sister to enjoy riding a horse that was imported from Europe. We hardly saw my workaholic Dad during the week but we reaped the monetary benefits. So I lived without money and with money.

I've held a job pretty consistently since I was 14 years old. My only unemployed periods were my first year of college and after a nervous breakdown my second year, second semester of college. In May I'll have worked for Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs for 11 years. I certainly haven't always made much money, but it's been enough. The really interesting thing is that whenever there has been a money crisis, money always shows up.

When The Jeffrey got terribly sick and we though his liver was having all sorts of issues but it turned out to be bladder stones that were ripping his insides apart my commission check was unexpectedly high.

When one of the cars unexpectedly needed the brakes done Frinklin had a random monetary bonus kick in. This has happened TWICE with two different employers who almost NEVER gave cash bonuses. Weird.

When I was 21 years old and had an ancient Ford Bronco II that insisted on breaking down every other day my Grandmother stepped up and gave me a cash infusion out of nowhere "because you need it." I was able to fix the car and take care of some other things that had been weighing heavily. She told me she had set aside the money for college or for a wedding, but at the time I wasn't in school and was a lesbian. Thanks Nana!

Anyway, back to the point.

Because I've had a fortuitous relationship with money, I've not been particularly careful with money. I've always been able to pay my bills on time, have good credit, and don't have any collection agencies stalking me. And I have a nasty habit of spending money I don't have. Even when my husband is out of a job.

Like yesterday. When I was at the new Nordstrom Rack in Southcenter after making a particularly successful sales call and meeting up with Frinklin after he had a particularly successful (cross fingers!) interview with what appears to be a great potential employer. I was looking for a Perlina purse that I had fallen in love with a few weeks earlier when we were a DINK household to celebrate our particularly successful (although potentially fictitious) fabulous day.

I found the Perlina bag, and it was cute. But then I turned a corner and There. It. Was. I heard a rushing in my ears. Frinklin spoke, but I heard nothing but the Angels singing. I walked forward, and touched It. The chorus intensified.

Finally, Frinklin's insistent voice broke through, "How much is it?"

"What?" I didn't look up. I was too busy opening pockets and noticing the cheetah print interior. So amazing!

"Ensie...how much? It's got an electronic tag on it. It's going to be a lot."

"Fuck," I said. Reality setting in, "I can't get this bag. It's going to be crazy expensive. It's Dolce and Gabbana." Searching out the tag I finally answer Frinklin, "Holy shit! It's four hundred dollars!" I got silence as an answer as I continued to fondle the bag. My heart raced.

"Honey. Buy it."

"What?"

"Buy it."

I thought my husband had lost his mind at this point. He's unemployed! We only have one income! I started to argue with him briefly, but then realized I was arguing my way out of a kick-ass Dolce and Gabbana bag that I didn't know how to quit. I quietly whispered, "OK!" as though we were getting away with some sort of crazy crime. An employee was flagged down, the bag was freed, and we were out the door with our loot a few minutes later.

The only down side was that I didn't know how much money I had saved on the bag. It didn't have an original price on it. I spent a good hour searching the interwebs for my bag (which is tan leather, oh so soft, with a cheetah print interior), only to find that it doesn't exist. There is only a mutant version currently available, priced at $2,195.00:

Perlina, I feel bad for cheating on you, but I love my new D&G bag. And if it makes me an uncontrollable shopaholic, so be it. I challenge anyone to step into the realm of really good handbags and/or shoes and then try to go back to crappy ones. If nothing else, I treat my quality items like gold so they last forever.

I'd like to give a huge thank you to my husband, who gave me the OK to buy something I love and really wanted. I told him that he doesn't have to buy me anything for my birthday or Christmas this year. I love you honey!

Posted by: Ensie at 05:30 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 969 words, total size 6 kb.