Posts Tagged ‘Money’

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TMI in da house

Saturday, March 6th, 2010

My gift to myself for my 32nd birthday was an IUD. Being reasonably sure there will be no surprise babies  is the gift that keeps on giving, because surprise babies are like ninjas. One day you’re just minding your own business, and the next you’re all, “Oh, hi there, surprise baby. Did the doorman let you in?”

I was fucking up my birth control enough during stressful times that it will be worth every bit of the $589 I paid a woman in latex gloves to punch me in the cervix.

They had to do it twice, since it didn’t take the first time, so I got punched in the cervix a total of four times.

If you are ever in a position to get an IUD and they tell you that it might hurt a little if you’ve never had a baby, bite those lying assholes on the face. Still, no regrets here. Other than not biting those lying assholes on the face, of course.

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Wake-up call from Chase Bank

Saturday, February 13th, 2010

A conversation about Dad’s bank account that I had with a rep from Chase at 8:30 this morning, three seconds after being  jolted awake by the phone:

Chase guy: I would like to speak to yadda yadda about his account.
Me: Yadda has dementia and is deaf and doesn’t do well on the phone. Can I help you?
CG: I need to speak to someone authorized to speak on his behalf. May I speak to his wife?
Me: His wife is dead.
CG: I’m very sorry to hear that.
Me: You can speak to me. I’m his daughter and should be listed as a contact on his account. (We went through that process the last time I needed to speak to someone on Dad’s behalf. I gave him my name.)
CG: You are not listed as an authorized contact.
Me: I don’t know what else to say.
CG: May I try calling back this afternoon?
Me: Dad will still be deaf and have dementia this afternoon.
CG: Well, I can’t speak to you without authorization.
Me: OK, bye, then.

As hard as it is to believe, I’m not usually snarky with strangers. Dude was just doing his job. I guess my social filters need time to kick in when I first wake up.

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Why is it never promiscuous sons?

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010

“It’s like living under a mountain with a dragon. Some years it’s your virgin daughter they take. Nothing personal.”
– Devon, after the City of New York towed his car

You know what I didn’t want to spend $800 on this month? The list is pretty damn long and includes spider anti-venom, but I most definitely didn’t want to pay $800 to reclaim our own car.

The car was towed because, according to the DMV, we owed $400+ in parking fines. Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t. Devon says he paid online, but he doesn’t have any proof, so the DMV has essentially told us to suck their tail pipe.

Even if we hadn’t paid, $400 for an unwanted tow and storage for half a day is bullshit. Somewhere, somebody said: “You know what we should do to people who don’t pay their fines? Make them pay an even BIGGER fine.” And then a whole bunch of other people laughed maniacally and twirled their mustaches and jabbered on about installing FREAKIN’ LASERS at the toll booths to keep traffic moving swiftly.

The part about the lasers is true.*

Anyway, Devon presses on with wanting to own a car in New York, and I press on with not wanting to pay $800 in fines, so life is back to normal.

* The part about the lasers isn’t remotely true. Sucker.

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iPad: Not the Apple of my i

Thursday, February 4th, 2010

Dear Apple,

I remember a time not that long ago when I was in love with you. You were so young and pretty. And I could drop my first love, the iBook, from a billion feet in the air with no damage. In geek parlance, I admired your constitution score.

Times have changed. With the release of the iPad, it’s like I truly see you for the first time in all your soggy douchiness. You tout yourself as “magical.” No, you are not “magical” — you are an ordinary device in an increasingly crowded field, and a shortsighted one at that. You allow publishers like that other douche nozzle, Macmillan, to jack up the price of ebooks and milk your customers. You’re pissy at Google for having the nerve to compete with you in a free market. You make using iTunes with non-Apple tech like looking for a Cheerio in a cow patty. And lastly, how did your marketing monkeys not see the MAXiPad jokes coming from space?

I am so disappointed in you, Apple. I feel used — used like the 10-cent media whores Steve Jobs has to suck off to get the fawning press he does.

I am ashamed to admit that I still dig my iPod, but I suppose we can be fuck buddies until something better comes along.

Sincerely,
Dirty Hooker

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We are nerds, hear us roar

Monday, January 4th, 2010

If you’re cruising for a new podcast, check out Tyrannosaurus Regina, where I and three other women talk about all things nerdy. You can find it on iTunes by doing a search for Tyrannosaurus Regina, or go directly to our site.

The site is a work in progress, as is the podcast, so suggestions are welcome.

Topic #1: Why aren’t there more female nerds? Topic #2, to be recorded this weekend, is about those supreme time wasters we call Facebook games. Are they really games or Facebook’s evil attempt to get us to spend real money on virtual money?

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How to score with (boy) nerds

Friday, December 11th, 2009

I qualify “nerds” because there was a terrific post about scoring with female nerds at The Park Bench, which inspired this one. After speaking* with Devon, I put together this primer on dating male nerds.

Be interested in his obsession
And he WILL be obsessed with something, whether it’s Battlestar Galactica, forensic science or making chess pieces out of recycled yak dung. Being genuinely interested makes life easier for everyone, but “fake it ’til you make it” also applies.

Be aggressive
Boy nerds have taken a lot of rejection since high school. A LOT. He may not recognize you shoving his head into your breasts as flirting, in which case you’ll need to come on stronger. Nerds are very smart and very, very dumb.

Have breasts
Nerds are still men, and men like boobs.  Anything that emphasizes your breasts (say, shoving his head into them) will let him know you are a woman and that he should consider the possibility of having sex with you at some point in the future.

Build a World of Warcraft toon now
The good news is that you won’t be trapped watching football on lazy afternoons. The bad news is that you’d better be ready to part with $15 a month for a World of Warcraft account. A toon is a WoW character you control, and you will need one if you want to spend this time together. Start building now, because your level-15 noob just won’t cut it when he’s doing level-80 raids. It’s OK. While this seems lame now, you will TOTALLY FUCKING LOVE IT BECAUSE IT’S AWESOME.

Feed him
The average nerd isn’t so dense that he will die of starvation, but he may consider Whoppers and beer a balanced meal. If you encourage him to eat real food and take care of himself, you might prove invaluable in keeping him alive.

Be prepared to make bizarre abstract arguments
Like, who would win in a fight, Caprica Six or Megatron? Q or Elminster? This is nerd philosophy. Embrace it and your nerd will embrace you.

Wooing a nerd helps if you are also a nerd. Odds are, though, that your nerdiness will have a different flavor than his, so it helps to brush up on the basics. Your learning curve will be steeper if you are not a nerd, but it can work if you are committed and persistent. Go get ’em, tiger.

* Nerds don’t speak. We IM. Even ones who live together.

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How do spoiled brats do it?

Monday, November 30th, 2009

I must be the only chick in the world that people have to scam into accepting gifts.

Don’t get me wrong: I like stuff, especially nice stuff. But there’s something about expensive presents that makes me want to give them back and tell people to save their money for the inevitable apocalypse, when the cost of sulfur-proof umbrellas will skyrocket. This isn’t a “problem” I can share with people. “Oh, your birth mother gave you a thousand dollars with instructions to spend it on something diamond-y? You poor thing. How ever will you cope?” No, people are more likely to be all, “Go die in a fire, skank.”

So the super-awesome pearl necklace I got over the weekend is a result of Devon expertly timing whipping out his credit card as I looked through my bag. He’s a gift ninja.

He objected to me spending only a fraction of the money Maureen gave me, so now I “have” to go buy something shiny. Maybe shiny new ironic quotation marks, since I’ve clearly blown through my share in this post.

My necklace is pretty sweet. I fantasize that I am Audrey Hepburn*, navigating through a sepia world where people do things like dress up for the theater and sacrifice true love so Czech resistance leaders can save their country. In reality, I spent Sunday playing World of Warcraft in shorts, a t-shirt and pearls.

Close enough.

*Ingrid Bergman co-starred in Casablanca, but Audrey Hepburn rocked pearls like no one else.

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Dead chick walking

Thursday, November 12th, 2009

Like I needed to give Devon another reason to kill me.

I was updating my medical insurance info, and I got to the part about “insurance beneficiary.” My company offers 1x base salary in life insurance at no charge to employees. Let’s just say that, should I accidentally shoot myself three times in the back of the head, Devon stands to make enough money to…throw a slammin’ pizza party. Maybe.

In other news, my future killer did me a huge favor by driving my dad’s car, which we animated temporarily by putting in a new battery, back to Queens. It can die a horrible death there for all I care. Good riddance.

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Road to hell paved with good intentions

Monday, November 9th, 2009

Since my dad is never going to drive again as long as we can keep car and keys from meeting, I decided to try and sell the thing. Lo and behold, it is actually a piece of shit. It is 16-years-old, so that shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it was fine last year, and I was led to believe that it was in pretty good shape.

Since my friend is not going to buy this piece of shit after all, we decided to bring it back to Dad’s and let it rot in the driveway, since one of Dad’s meltdown triggers is this car. Unfortunately, the car decided to make its last stand next to a curb in Jersey.

It is dead. Not mostly dead, but completely and utterly dead, dead, dead.

I was going to have it junked, but now dad is melting down daily because the car isn’t there. So I’m going to have to pay several hundred dollars to have a dead car towed back to Queens so my dad can see it from the window and calm his shit down.

This is what I get for taking initiative. Initiative: bad.

When my responsibility to my dad is over, I am going to crawl into a hole with a stack of books and some yarn and crochet hooks and never come out, because I never want to be responsible for another person’s well being ever again.

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I am a capitalist dog

Friday, October 30th, 2009

You may have noticed the Reading List on the side of the page and the Amazon ads at the bottom or top of some pages. If you click on one of those ads or on the Reading List and buy something from Amazon, I get a small percentage of the sale price. I get the referral fee even if you click to Amazon from DirtyHooker and buy something else.

The Reading List contains books I am currently reading or have just finished and think you might like. No pressure or anything.

I decided to become an Amazon Associate when I realized that one big difference between me and actual hookers is that they make money. I didn’t want to have to rename the site AGAIN to Dirty Slut.

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