I Hate the Moby Wrap
I know a lot of people out there love their Moby wraps, and if this is you, you better skip this post now. I apologize, but brace yourself for an epic rant.
A friend of mine was kind enough to lend me a Moby wrap when I had my baby, Nacho. If you aren’t familiar with these, they are basically 87,000 yards of fabric you’re supposed to wrap around yourself in a configuration more complicated than an Enigma Machine. Your baby then supposedly fits right into the fabric without falling out the bottom or smothering to death. You can now carry your baby around with your hands free!
Here’s the thing(s):
1) There is too much damn fabric. There has GOT to be a better way to carry your child than 9 million yards of stretchy fabric. Women in pre-industrial countries wear their babies all over the place, and I have yet to see one using enough fabric to clothe the nation of Lithuania.
2) It’s hot. I was using the thing in WINTER, and my son and I were both coated in sweat after 30 minutes. I guess it’s to be expected with 18 billion yards of fabric piled on you, but it was ridiculous.
3) It’s overly complicated. I watched several videos trying to figure out how to use this thing. I got Hubby to watch and help. I prayed to both the old gods and the new (that’s a reference to a TV show, Gram, don’t worry), and I was still unable to get the thing on me how it was supposed to go. If you don’t get the tension exactly right when you put it on, you have to take the whole thing off and start over again. Lifting a wriggling baby in and out of the wrap 3 or 4 times before you get it right will test anyone’s patience, and I have very little to begin with.
Those smiles are LIES.
4) It’s not really “hands-free”. You can sit in a chair, or walk around without holding your baby, sure. But forget bending over to do dishes or laundry. My son didn’t have neck control yet when we were attempting to wrangle the 8 cubic miles of fabric, so if I leaned over at all I had to support his head. If I tried to tuck fabric around his head, I had to worry that he was smothering to death, or his head would slip out and suddenly flop backwards (which happened, and was the impetus for me throwing in the 8,000 mile long towel). If I have to keep one hand on the back of his head at all times, it’s not that useful.
5) Getting in and out of it is nigh impossible. So let’s assume you succeed in finally getting your infant into the wrap. And then s/he poops. You’re now trapped, tied to a fussy, squirming baby and a poop balloon, just waiting to explode. Have fun untangling you both from 67^10 acres of fabric in a timely manner. If your kid is anything like mine, s/he’ll choose the moment s/he’s almost free to kick you in the chest and launch him/herself into oblivion (or, hopefully, the pack-n-play). Forget trying to feed a baby you’ve been mummified with also. There’s no room to get a bottle in there, much less get a boob out.
6) They’re expensive. $50 for some fabric? Come on. I’m really glad I got to borrow one rather than drop that kind of cash on some fabric I hated.
I do know a few people that like their Moby wraps, and I have a theory. All of the women I know who enjoy them, and who are shown in the tutorial videos and websites have fairly straight waists. I, however, have an hourglass figure, with big hips, so all the fabric slides up and bunches around my waist. Without such an exaggerated anatomy, the fabric seems to stay put where it’s supposed to. That’s just my hypothesis, based on a very small sample of data.
Wearing your baby is really fun and wonderful, but the Moby Wrap is not necessarily the way to do that. I was lucky enough to trick Mi Madre into making me a ring sling. She found a tutorial and the rings online, and used fabric she had laying around the house. We’ve used it a ton, and plan to keep using it for awhile. A fellow mom-friend of mine found a baby-wearing meet-up group that rents out different baby carriers so you can try them. She tried several before finding one she loves. Search for something like that before making any purchases.
I love popping my son into his sling and going for a walk around the block when the weather is nice. He’s fallen asleep in it several times, and it’s very easy to slide him out into his crib, or just sit down and let him nap on me.
I’m Special Because I had a Baby
For those of you who don’t have kids, you may not realize they’re a lot of work. I mean, I’m pretty sure everyone knows that intellectually, but that’s a bit different from the concrete evidence that accumulates once you have a kid.
*Warning: Ranting Ensues*
Before anyone gets started, yes I CHOSE to have a baby. I chose this knowing it was going to be hard, but rewarding. When people choose to climb Mount Everest they go into it knowing they’ll be freezing cold and gasping for air, but that doesn’t mean they have to be chipper when they lose a pinky toe to frost bite. I am allowed to complain if I want. That doesn’t mean I’m unhappy, regret my decision, or don’t love my child. It doesn’t give you the right to gloat or say “I told you so”. I would still do it all again, even though teething is AWFUL.
My choice was right for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s right for everyone. You’re probably getting pressure from family and friends to start your own little brood, and I get that. I am not trying to pressure you into having kids by having a kid myself. If you keep your snarky remarks to yourself, we can commiserate about how awful people are who try to dictate your reproductive future. It never ends, BELIEVE me. We have a kid and we keep getting the “When’s the next one?”, “Are you going to try for a girl?” None of your beeswax, Nosey McRudenheimer!
*End Rant*
That was kind of a long tangent. I may have some pent-up frustration. Anyway, back to the point of this post:
The first time I went to the grocery store with my new baby, I walked in the door in amazement I had finally gotten there. In order to get the 2 blocks from my house to the store, I’d had to feed baby Nacho, feed myself, change him, get myself showered and dressed, let him finish his nap, feed and change him again, pack the diaper bag, remember the grocery bags, shopping list, and my purse, strap him into his car seat, then the car, then find a parking spot near the carts so I could easily move him from the car to the shopping cart without leaving him in the car alone and having the whole neighborhood judging me, load him into the cart, remember the diaper bag, purse, grocery bags, and shopping list, then push my already full cart up the hill and through the doors. I was almost amazed I didn’t get a standing ovation from the staff and shoppers when I made it inside. I wanted to yell “Do you people know how much effort it took to get here?? I’ve been preparing for this for TWO HOURS!”
Of course I didn’t do anything of the kind. And now I have the routine down a little better. It helps that Nacho has gotten older, so he’s not pooping every twenty minutes, and I’ve more experience handling him and his needs now.
But those first few weeks after the baby is born put you in a bubble of specialness. People bring you food, and presents, and coo over your little bundle of awesome. Strangers congratulate you, and you get all warm and fuzzy from all the attention. This helps to balance out (or is enhanced by) the sleep deprivation.
For the first few weeks you SHOULD have that feeling. You did something that is hard, chancy, and full of weird occurrences. You’re at the start of a challenging path through life, so let that happy feeling invigorate you for the bumps ahead.
Some people, however, absorb this attention and think they deserve it permanently, just for breeding. They become arrogant, demanding, and entitled. Don’t be that person.
Every person on this planet, living or dead, had parents. There are over 7 billion people on this planet right now, and they all came about the same way. Even if your birth was one in a million, there were 6,999 others just like it on this planet, just considering the current living population.
So calm down. You’re not a special, unique snowflake. You’re not forging some new path no one has ever trod before. You are not Gaia, the Earth mother. You are not the first person to have a kid, and you won’t be the last.
Enjoy your new adventure, revel in your baby, but don’t be a jerk. You know what? That’s your rule to live by:
Rule for Life: Don’t be a jerk.
Let’s all do that and hopefully together we can decrease the amount of stuff that sucks in the world, and increase the awesome. My first rant could also be cured by people not being jerks. The Golden Rule still applies when you’re an adult, people.
This whole post seems to just be an amalgamation of ranting and tangents, but I’m alright with it.
Clicking here will LITERALLY change your life
This post won’t actually change your life. This is a rant about “click bait”. Click bait is something you may have noticed. Articles with titles like “You will laugh so hard, your eyeballs will melt”, or “Watch this amazing kitten save a life!” are made to pique your interest, while the body of the piece is lackluster. Here’s an example:
“Obama got hungry, and what he did next will AMAZE you!!”
It will? Well, I guess I better click on it…
“He ordered…a SANDWICH”
What the hell? That’s not amazing! That’s tota-
“But not just any SANDWICH”
Oh, I guess I better keep reading…
“A GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH!!!!!!”
OH, COME ON.
I am sick to death of this crap. It makes me not want to click on ANY articles since they’re 90% disappointing. The first place I noticed these hyperbolic headlines was on Upworthy, so I quit clicking on that site entirely. It’s too bad, because they seem to have good intentions. Their methodology just leaves a lot to be desired. Now this trend has spread like wildfire, and it’s beyond aggravating.
If you don’t have good content, you don’t deserve attention.
Don’t get me wrong, jazzy titles are a great way to get views. I try to be somewhat entertaining myself, but blatant exaggeration leads to disappointed readers, leads to NO readers. That is not how you build a loyal following, and I hope all those websites collapse under the weight of their awfulness. What do you call it when you’re really arrogant, and think you’re better and smarter than everyone, and have a smirk on your face that deserves to be punched off of it? Well, that’s what those websites are.
I can only hope that readers become more discerning, and punish companies that do this by ignoring them. I mean, not me, though. I only did it to illustrate a point. DON’T LEAVE ME!
Things I want to rant about at work
We have a tiny kitchenette at my office, and, as with any shared space, people do not take proper care of it. I don’t know if it’s the lack of accountability or what, but people who are usually neat and polite in person, turn into complete selfish jackasses when there are no witnesses. Instead of worrying about a tree falling in the forest, the question should be “If there’s no one in the kitchen, will a person clean up after themselves?” The answer is a resounding no (unless that person is me, because I know that with my luck someone would walk in just as I was stealing their lunch, or leaving a coffee spill, so I ALWAYS hide the evidence clean up after myself).
When I see one paper towel left on the roll:
Just replace the roll, lazy ass! Don’t even start with your “But there’s still one left” crap. You know what you did is socially unacceptable. Just grab another roll, and swap it out. The new paper towels are kept conveniently in the same exact room, so they are literally within 8 feet of you, no matter where you’re standing. I even know which cabinet they’re in, but you don’t deserve that information. Hunt through all 8 cabinets until you find them. The 2 minutes you spend doing that is your punishment, and you will value the knowledge all the more for having earned it yourself. It’s even worse when they leave half a paper towel on the roll. I might turn into She-hulk next time I see that.
Cool vintage image I needed an excuse to use
When I see dirty dishes in the sink:
WE HAVE A DISHWASHER. JUST PUT THEM IN IT. You don’t even have to sully your precious hands with something as bourgeois as washing a dish. Literally set them in the dishwasher, and, like magic, clean dishes will appear. I know your excuse this time: “But I don’t know if it’s clean or dirty in there!” IT’S LABELED. There is a magnet on the front that says “Clean” on one side and “Dirty” on the other. Maybe you’d be able to read it if you pulled your head out of your own self-importance.
When the dish soap is closed:
I know you’re probably trying to make the kitchen look neat and tidy, but there is no reason to snap the lid shut on the Dawn. It’s not Pandora’s Box. When I need it, my hands are wet, and the whole bottle is slick with leaked soap, so it takes ten minutes of prying and swearing before I can hand wash my one plate. The soap will not escape. It won’t ooze out of the bottle and destroy all mankind. Just leave it open, and I won’t rip off the top of your skull to illustrate the proper soap-lid position.
When there’s no coffee:
You finished the pot, or almost worse, left a quarter inch at the bottom in a sad pretense of leaving some for the next person. That sad, cold bottom coffee is a symbol of your thoughtlessness. It is morning. You have received caffeine through no effort of your own. Pay it forward by making another pot so I can have the same glorious infusion. You wouldn’t like me when I’m un-caffeinated.
The bottom line is your time is not more valuable than mine. It is not my job to clean up after you or make your life easier in any way. If you wouldn’t do something when people are watching you shouldn’t do it at all. What’s that golden rule again? Treat others…something, something…oh wait it’s DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE.
Florida vs. Texas
Some of you may already know that I have recently returned from a week-long trip to Florida. Hubby and I had a great time, and criss-crossed the state for our vacation fun. As much fun as we had, I did not like Florida, and Orlando in particular. I just don’t get the appeal.
Part of the problem is that it rained literally everyday we were there. I know this is atypical, since the nickname “Sunshine State” had to come from somewhere, but it was still unpleasant. For the first couple days we enjoyed it, coming from the drought-stricken state that we do. We wandered around, faces toward the sky, talking about how spoiled these Floridians are with all their rain. After a couple days of this, the skin on my entire body felt pruny; I couldn’t get dry. Everything in our hotel rooms, from the carpet to our laundry, felt moist. I worried about mildew growing on me.
We also had issues with the tap water. I don’t know if it’s too hard or too soft, but it tasted terrible, and made me break out. Even though I was using my own soap and shampoo, my skin stayed forever greasy, and my hair was dull and flat. Hubby had the same problems.
Driving in Florida is a nightmare. I love to drive fast, and I think speed limits everywhere should be raised to 85 mph, like in some lucky parts of Texas. We didn’t see anything higher than 55mph the whole trip, even on highways. I don’t know if it’s because all the retirees complained, or so you can avoid running over alligators, but it’s awful. It was so hard to restrain myself to such infantile speeds.
The other huge problem moving around the state is that most of the major highways are toll roads. In order to get anywhere with paying an arm and a leg we had to take long, meandering routes through jungles and swamps. What would have taken 45 minutes in Texas took over 2 hours.
My main gripe with the state is how fake it is. The minute we landed we realized the striking difference. The Austin airport is full of shops of local companies, like Amy’s Icecream, Bookpeople, and Waterloo Icehouse. Orlando’s is full of chains you see all over America, like McDonald’s, the Disney store (which is logical), and Macaroni Grill. It looked more like a mall than an airport. Hubby and I tried in vain the entire vacation to find somewhere local to eat. For seafood we only found Landry’s and Joe’s Crab Shack; for fast food there was Chik-fila (which we did NOT eat at), Wendy’s, and Steak and Shake (they have good breakfast tacos). There wasn’t even anything regional to try, like how Carl’s Jr. and In-n-Out are out west. The whole place was inauthentic and commercial, both things that I loathe.
Now that I have gotten all the complaining out of my system (just on this one topic, so don’t get your hopes up) I plan to write several blog posts about all the fun we had in Florida. It was a great vacation, but I’m content never to return to that state.
Reupholstery No-No
As you guys are soon going to notice, I’ve been spending a lot of time on Re-Nest.com. I have a love/hate relationship with this site. First of all, they are one of those purveyors of the buy-this-super-expensive-thing-or-you-will-kill-the-planet philosophy. On the other hand, they do have some cool articles, pretty pictures, and good DIY ideas. Then again, many of their “articles” are simply links to other websites, which makes me crazy.
They have one regular article where they show “scavenged” items from around the country. Of the few I looked at, the cost was at least $100. How is that scavenged?? Someone else scavenged it, and is charging you a ridiculous price!
I saw this article yesterday, and I was traumatized. Here’s how my thought process went – see this picture:
“Hey that’s a gorgeous antique chair! Wait a sec, “Before”? What does that mean?”
*scrolls down*
“NOOOOOO!!!!”
I’m sorry, but what the hell was this person thinking? They ruined an antique chair, AND vintage mail bags to do this. The worst part in my opinion? The faux aging, where the new white paint is slightly sanded off to show the darker, original paint. You already had an aged chair!! Why would you stoop to this cheap looking, over-used style??
I’m completely exasperated. That previous chair was damn gorgeous, and I would feel lucky to have it. AND you could have had a cool purse/gift bag/remote holder/grocery bag/crochet bag/anything holder, but you cut it up to be upholstery.
FYI: most of the comments on this article agree with me, so I’m not completely bat-poo crazy.
The line in the article I most despise is “Taking an old chair from her parent’s home that were destined for the dumpster, Marianne was able to use old mail bags to make this chair look fresh and new”. Destined for the DUMPSTER? No wonder Marianne doesn’t value antiques. Her parents were going to throw it in the garbage. She was obviously raised by idiots. Have they never heard of freecycle or craig’s list? Or even goodwill? Uck, I need chocolate and a time machine. The chocolate is to distract Marianne when I go back in time to rescue the chair from her evil intentions.
Baby Names vs. Pet Names
I’m sure many rants have been written on this particular topic, but it’s on my mind today, so you get to read another one. I’m sure mine will be the most humorous and insightful of them all.
Pets are not people. Don’t give them people names. Kory, Steve, and April are people names. If you post to your facebook that “April ran in circles then pooped on the floor”, I have no idea if you’re talking about your child or an animal of some kind. A facebook post very similar to that is what started this whole rant.
I’m at the age where lots of my friends have young children. I also have tons of friends with no kids at all, but pets they view as their children. There are enough random people on my facebook that I often don’t know whether or not they have kids, or pets, or both. They could very easily be posting to facebook about their special needs child, not their dog, so if I make a snarky comment I’m the one that looks like an ass. This is not cool.
My pets names are Flapjack, Mudface, Tinkerbell, Mushroom, and Ferret. They are obviously pets. I can talk about Tinkerbell eating hairbands without fear of confusion. Naming pets is an opportunity to be creative. When naming your spawn you should stick within certain societal guidelines, unless you are a nutbag famous person. They don’t count. Apple, Prince Michael, and Moxie CrimeFighter would be teased in the school yard, and later ignored for job interviews if they didn’t have famous parents. Names like that are about the parent using the child to further their own status by getting attention. It doesn’t allow the child to develop their own identity. They are forever dismissed as the kid of that famous wack-a-doo.
Back to the pets. How freaking boring of a person are you that you can only come up with a normal, boring person name for your pet? A name not even good enough to give a plant? I have a cactus named Cornelius, which I think is hysterical. Technically that’s a person name, but it’s definitely not common, and I would never post to facebook “Cornelius seems to have some kind of fungus. I hope they don’t have to amputate!” That’s completely retarded and misleading.
Here’s the bottom line: If you gave your pet a boring person name, obviously it’s too late to change it now. When posting to any social media, start with a qualifier such as “My dog, April…” Is that so hard?
Basically, my main problem is this: I don’t know how to respond to this stuff. Should I be severely worried and sympathic that your child seems to throw up a lot, or should I laugh with you and joke about how my cat does the same thing? You are inconveniencing ME!!! I end up avoiding communicating with people to avoid potential embarrassment, and that sucks. So think ahead when you name your pets and children. Think, “How will this affect That Clever Chick, ruler of all and infinite font of wisdom?”. Actually, think about all your decisions in that way. I’m going to go get some HWTATCCROAAIFOW bracelets printed. Who wants one???
Christmas Fatigue
As I write this, it is December 23rd. People will be here for Christmas in T minus18 hours, and I’m not doing anything about it. Looking around, there’s the basic clutter like always, but the whole place needs to be swept, mopped, vacuumed, straightened, washed, dried, and organized. I want the visiting family to be comfortable and have a good time, but I am Christmas-ed out.
I didn’t buy a tree, and I don’t plan to, even though I saw them for $10 at the store. We didn’t put any lights up outside. I have a wreath on the front door, but there are still skulls on the mantel from Halloween.
All my neighbors have lights up, some to the point of ridiculousness. TONS of my friends, even the single ones, have been mailing me Christmas cards. I just don’t know what to think about all this. Hubby and I have the most thoughtful, caring friends in the world, who have sent us gifts I didn’t expect, but completely love. I generally love Christmas, but for some reason this year I just want it all to be over.
Every year the Christmas season starts earlier. Right after Halloween now, stores have all the Christmas stuff up. Wait guys, there’s still Thanksgiving, remember? But no, they want to work us into a buying frenzy NOW, so we all feel like we’re getting a jump on it. When we start stressing and freaking out so early, it’s no wonder I’m sick of Christmas by the time it gets here. I know I’m not the only one. I heard someone at the store today on her cell phone say “I’m so over Christmas”, and it’s sad, because it should be about spending time with family, instead of dragging my ass all over the city looking for gifts for people. This is the one time of year we are all pretty likely to have coinciding time off. Let’s use it to chat, drink beer or cocoa, and watch movies or sit by a fire.
I have no idea what anyone owns, wants, or needs. I barely remember what I already own. I would almost rather hand out cash at Christmas because I know for sure it would get used. I love giving handmade gifts, but afghans take forever to make, and guys don’t generally wear jewelry, so it’s not a perfect solution. Plus, that’s like handing someone a baby of mine. How do I know they’re going to care for it properly?
I hate what Christmas has become; not just the complete and overwhelming commercialization, but the constant mental battle of “Will this be adequate for what that person is likely to get me? Is this an equal gift among the siblings/spouses/parents/etc? What about this person? I don’t like them, but they’ll be there and I haaaaavvee to get them something.” It makes me want to go to Europe so no one ever has to buy me anything ever again, and vice-versa.
Right now, I need to go lay down with a heating pad on my neck, because I woke up with a horrific crick in it which is making me hold my head funny, so it’s making the other side hurt too. To any of you who maybe coming over tomorrow: if the house isn’t clean, at least it will smell good, because I’ll be making a ham. If you want ham, you will keep your mouth shut about any mess. That’s right, I’m holding the ham hostage to guarantee good behavior!
Why I Hate Wal-Mart
The dishes are running, the dryer is drying, chicken is cooking, errands have been run, and I have a nice glass of Irish Cream on the rocks. Brace yourself, people. We are heading into full rant mode!
I am not going to go into any of the “it’s a giant evil corporation that treats its employees horrifically” stuff. You probably know all about that and have already decided if you agree or disagree, so I’m not going to beat a dead horse. My issues with Walmart are much more personal, and therefore make me more violent (hence the alcohol; I self-medicate).
I went to Walmart today with a list of 5 things. I bought one of them before I gave up and left. I went to my HEB for the other things instead (HEB is a Texas chain of grocery stores, and you should weep everyday that you don’t have access to one, they’re that awesome). Here’s my problems with Walmart, in no particular order:
1. People always go out of their way to block as much of the aisle as possible. Today I had to turn around on three different aisles and head back the way I came because all the inconsiderate jerks in the area moseyed over to Wally World today. I got stuck by a woman blocking an entire 4-way intersection with her cart, herself, and her children that she was carefully ignoring destroying merchandise and beating each other. Keep in mind, I was in the store for twenty minutes.
2. I had to buy a dog crate for my darling Flapjack. The display dog crates were 6 (I counted) aisles from the purchasable crates, which were on the top shelf, and uber heavy. Of course there were no employees around to help me, and even if there had been, what use is an 87 year old lady going to be? Whoever loaded the boxes over there must have been the same guy that put the Arc of the Covenant in storage, because he obviously didn’t expect it to ever come out again.
3. The price tags do not show the cost per unit. I have to have my cell phone out the whole time I’m there to figure out what’s the best deal. How am I supposed to do the math in my head to figure out how much per ounce the 63.5 ounce container is? HEB puts the price per ounce, or sometimes per count, right on the label, so you know just what you’re getting. Maybe I’m spoiled, but if so that’s just more evidence why you should campaign HEB to open one in your area.
4. The store brands were more expensive that the name brands. I looked at dish washing detergent and light bulbs, and on both of these items the store brand cost significantly more than the name brand. The light bulbs were about a dollar more, and the detergent about $0.50. They are counting on the fact that people assume the “Great Value” brand will be the cheapest option and pick it up without looking. It is totally their right to prey on the stupidity of their customers, but I’m hoping you are too clever to fall for their schemes (or at least will be aware of it now that your resident Clever Chick has pointed it out). I just don’t want any of my loyal minions to be duped!
5. I hate it!!! Something about the warehouse feeling, the chaos of the aisles, or the over-dry air inside Walmart creates some kind of visceral discomfort in me. I can’t explain it, but the second I walk in the door my shoulders tense up, and I can’t wait to be out of there. The buildings look like they should be in the USSR, holding people for thought crimes. And (at least in the one I was in today) the aisles are short and set at right angles to each other, and nothing was in any kind of logical place. Why is lotion next to pet stuff? Why are dishes next to hardware? Why is fishing gear next to party supplies? Walmart is all the things I detest: inefficiency, fake frugality (or frauxgality, as I like to call it), and clutter.
I want you all to know how hard it was for me to relive the horrors of Walmart. I did it just to save you the effort of finding out for yourselves. Now, maybe the healing can begin.
FINALLY!
A new post! What have I been up to lately? Well, let me give you the rundown of my adventures in blogging. Maybe not adventures, more like giant crap balloons of frustration.
First of all, Hubby and I ripped out the carpet and redid the floors back in July. It took several weeks for the whole process to be completed, and to then get the furniture back where it goes. My computer, Carl, was out of commission for quite a while.
Once I plugged Carl back in, nothing happened. Would not start. It made that “Rrr, Rrr” noise cars make when they are trying to start, but to no avail. Roomie Matt, the computer expert was MIA for a week or so, leaving Carl in the lurch. I mean, what was he doing, WORKING? How dare he? Doesn’t he know fixing my computer should be his top priority? (Anytime I hear the phrase “how dare he?”, it always sounds just like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, when Indy and Elsa are trying to sneak into that castle, and Indy is pretending to be a Scottish Lord. Hahahah! …*crickets*… What, just me?)
So we finally got the new power source installed, and Carl was up and running. Huzzah! I managed to upload the entire gig of photos I’d been hauling around on my camera, and I even added a couple to the blog.
What happened next to destroy my equilibrium? Blog.com decided it hated me. Every single thing I clicked on led to a “Bad Gateway” error. Someone is probably going to read this and have a simple fix for that problem, but by then, it was too late (plus I don’t like knowing I did a bunch of work for no reason, so keep your magic solutions to yourself, smarty pants). I had witnessed the greatness that is wordpress (knock on wood!) and I could not go back to the awfulness and lack of features that is blog.com.
Even then, nothing was simple. I started my new blog here, but wordpress does not own blog.com, so I could not transfer everything over with the click of a mouse. Nope, I copied and pasted every single entry you see here over from blog.com. That meant hitting refresh a minimum of THREE TIMES on each entry before it would load, and on the home page, and through the archives. It has taken me about a week. I still don’t have everything how I want it yet, but it is definitely an improvement.
My only regret is that I lost all my comments. As far as I know, there is no way to transfer them over. I apologize to you 4 loyal readers who have followed me through the series of tubes we call the internet. I think it will be worth it though. That gig of photos is destined to be uploaded here, which will create massive entertainment for all of my minions. I hope to not have any more giant periods of absence. Thanks to anyone that reads this, and keep reading because I am highly entertaining.
Why I Love Crappy Cars
Some people believe what you drive shows what kind of person you are. I totally agree. Mine shows that I’m thrifty, and creative. I drive a 10 year old Honda with almost 200,000 miles on it. The interior is clean and I do all the regular maintenance on it (not myself, I mean I have it done when I’m supposed to). What does it say if you drive a brand new car every two years? To me it says you won’t be retiring as early as you could.
There are lots of reasons to drive an old-ish car, and I’m organizing them all together right here. In the future, when I get into a discussion about this topic (AGAIN) I can defend myself by saying “Just read my blog”, instead of having to rant at them in public. I hate having to berate people loudly and publicly, but someone has to stop stupidity from spreading!
1. No car payment. That’s right, the only debt I have is my house. I don’t want any more debt. Some people argue that with an older car you end up with periodic payments anyway, in the form of repairs, but that’s why I have a savings account. When you go to buy the car, do your research first. I always check Consumer Reports to get a good quality used car, to cut down on maintenance. I would use this when buying a new car as well, because there is no guarantee that just because it’s new, it won’t have issues.
2. Cheaper repairs. If you buy a practical car, like a Honda, the replacement parts are cheaper than those for a fancier car, like a Lexus (which is made by Toyota, by the way, so I hope you feel real fancy driving around in your super expensive economy car *smirk*). There are also less fancy options and computer chips in older cars. With the new ones (at least 5 years old and newer) you have to pay at least $80 when the check engine light comes on, just to run the computer diagnostic! I had to pay that because I needed a new gas cap, which was $20. What should have been a $20 repair turned into $100. Argh. (Yes, my car has computer parts, no I’m not happy about it. When the machines take over i’ll be just as screwed as the rest of you, but Hubby will be safe in his old Ford).
3. No worries! A shopping cart hit my car in the parking lot of a grocery store. It came roaring down the hill, hit a curb, flipped over and smacked the crap out of my passenger door. I was not happy about it, but since my car was already 6 years old at the time, I didn’t have to worry about it. When I got caught in a hail storm, I was not sitting there thinking “This vehicle just lost $10,000 in value in 5 minutes!” and having a panic attack. I was more worried about getting home safe. When the insurance company gave me a check, I left the dents and pocketed the cash for our next car. We got $5,000, and got to keep both of our perfectly functional, but ugly cars. Win win as far as I’m concerned. Now in the future, when something inevitably goes wrong, I have cash available to replace my clunker, with a slightly less clunky clunker.
4. Less maintenance. I don’t wash my car. It’s a waste of time, money, and water. My paint job has held up for 10 years with dirt and poop, and who knows what on it. It’ll last until I’m done with this thing. I get the oil changed, and the tires rotated, but if something major goes wrong, I’ll just scrap it, and buy a 3 or 4 year old car, and start over again.
5. Less depreciation. Depreciation is when an investment loses money over time. Cars depreciate instantaneously when you buy them brand new. If you buy a brand new car, and try to turn around and sell it the next day, it can have lost up to a third of its value. This is because most people assume it’s a lemon, and don’t want it. The older cars get, the slower the rate of depreciation is.
Would you put $20,000 into an investment if they guaranteed you’d get only half of that back in 2 or 3 years? Hell no! So why put it into a car? You never get that money back, and you could spend $10,000 on a used car, and invest $10,000, and be WAAAY better off. Finance is all about opportunity cost. What are you giving up by buying that shiny new car? The cost of the car is not just what you pay for it (plus interest, if you get a loan for it), it is also the loss of income on that money. Say you had bought a $6,000 (which is my ideal car price). You could have invested the other $14,000 (we’ll assume you had cash, not a loan to make the math easier). Even if you put it into CDs, you could earn at least 3% on that. That means the $20K car costs you an additional $420 just in the first year.
6. More eco-friendly. I know that sounds wrong but just listen (er, read). To create a new car, metal has to be mined, then smelted, then shaped, all of which is massively detrimental to the environment. All of the materials have to be transported, which burns lots of fuel. The plastics in the interior are made from petroleum, and create all kinds of noxious by-products. The computer chips inside use lots of heavy metals which are toxic to humans and animals (which is part of the reason why you can get lead poisoning from fish now). You may end up getting a bit more fuel economy, but not enough to counter-act all the pollution created to make that car. Plus, that new car smell is actually chemicals outgassing from your car, and posssibly giving you tumors. Fun stuff, right? Scientific American did a fantastic article on this subject, so I actually have a source this time, not just my own ravings!
Just save your money, and don’t worry about flashiness. If you’re worried someone will tease you or something, just buy a nondescript car, and surely no one will notice. Although, if you’re that worried about how people will perceive your car, maybe you need therapy? If someone makes a comment just say, “I chose to get a cheap car, and donated the rest to help starving babies in Africa. What are YOU doing about starvation in Africa?” It doesn’t have to be true, it just points out what a shallow jackwaggon the other person is being. You can also use your own pet cause, it doesn’t have to be Africa. Well I hope you all learned something today. You’re welcome.
My Attempts at Cleverness 