To Spend or Not to Spend - That is the Question!

The iPhone is going to look this stupid to our kids.

The fun of shopping is spending money on things you don’t really need. I absolutely abhor paying for groceries, rent and utilities. A trip to the grocery store is about as fun for me as getting a colonoscopy (which I experienced at the ripe old age of 22, but that’s another story for another time. Or not.).


But as I get older and become more financially responsible, I realize spending money on things I don’t need is only okay if done sparingly, thoughtfully and only when I have extra cash (NOT credit) to spend.

I’ve nearly crawled out of the pool of debt I’ve been drowning in since college (and will be free from in April – thanks to a surprisingly large tax return!), and to do that, I’ve had to change my relationship with material items and change my mindset when making a purchase decision.

The biggest lesson I’ve had to teach myself is the true definition of the word “need”. The word need is best described by what it isn’t. Need does not mean: deserve, would be nice, would be cool, would be more convenient, would be fun, or everyone else has one. Those were all definitions I used in the past to justify the thousands of dollars of credit card debt I found myself in when I graduated.

Now that I’m back on track, I find myself truly in need of a new cell phone. I’ve hung on to this stupid little Samsung Gravity (the lame bar phone, not the smartphone version) for two years because the phone bill for it is so cheap, and it did everything I needed it to. But now, it is so beat up, that replacing it is going to have to happen sooner rather than later. A hinge has come loose and now hangs over the “O” on my QWERTY keyboard. The only way to text anything with an “O” requires the use of the new button, “hinge.” I’ve lived with the hinge button for about a year (which my mother calls me ghetto for doing). But recently, stupid little Samsung Gravity has begun randomly failing to end a call when I hit the end button. No matter how many times I hit the damn button, I resort to hitting the mute button so the caller on the other end doesn’t hear a string of cursing after hanging up with me. It also likes to randomly turn off. But now, my phone decided it can’t live like this anymore and is committing suicide – it refuses to hold a charge.

This brings us to my coveting of the iPhone. I’ve been debating this purchase for months. Armed with my newfound definition of need, I’m having a hard time justifying it. Initially, I thought only d-bags had iPhones (sorry Boyfriend). But once Boyfriend got one, and I began playing with it, I realized they are neat and have a lot more functionality and uses than my sad little bar phone.

The problem is, besides being a $200 phone, simply having one means I’ll be paying twice my current monthly cell phone bill (at both Verizon and AT&T). This isn’t a one time charge that I can forget about. This is a sustained bill I’m going to have to pay every single month should I choose to join the cult. It’s not that I can’t afford it – it just seems stupid to pay for Internet access on my phone when I already pay for it on my laptop. I’ve gotten by just fine paying $40 a month for stupid little Samsung Gravity.

But I’m finding that having a Smartphone is SUPER convenient, and could potentially be a necessity: the last time I printed mapquest directions I ended up in a sketchy trailer park on the wrong side of town, looking for my friend’s apartment – true story. So to spare myself from being faced with toothless, shot-gun wielding, confederates wondering why some chick is looking like a deer in headlights amongst rows of double wides, I’m leaning towards just buying the damn thing.

AHH! Sticks and Stoners what should I do?

The Case of the Pee-Pee Adult

Last night’s web design class brought me straight back to elementary school, when everyone avoided sitting next to the pee-pee kid – you know, that grimy boy or girl that reeks of urine and somehow skipped the personal hygiene lesson in preschool. All the kids bitch and moan about having to sit next to him or her. Since I had not experienced this phenomenon since elementary school, I assumed I would never have to suffer through it again.


Or so I thought. Last night, after illegally parking in a tow-away zone, I arrived just in time to nab the last available Mac. I was booting up, when all of the sudden it hit me – a strong wave of B.O., with power to defeat the likes of Hulk Hogan, who I imagine is a smelly man himself (he looks like he’s constantly sweating). I had never experienced a worse case. My eyes were watering and I began to cough, the stench was so overwhelming.

At first, I couldn’t figure out who it was emanating from. There was a meek, hygienic-looking woman to my left, a fashionable, hipster-looking woman to my right, and slew of nerdy males in the row ahead of me. I assumed it had to one of the nerds. Boys are always stinky.

But it kept getting stronger, and stronger, and I slowly began to notice that the wafts were correlating with the movements my hipster neighbor was making. She'd move her arms, or adjust her seat and I'd barf in my mouth a little again and again. No wonder it was the last available spot! This girl looked like she could have appeared in an MGMT music video. She was pretty and appeared as though showering was part of her daily regimen, but her armpits were saying otherwise. She smelled like she had been working on a fishing boat in the Bering Sea for six months and hadn’t yet made it to the shower upon her return. The word feces kept coming to mind. It was awful.

I sat suffering for THREE. WHOLE. HOURS and then some! I stared down the clock, trying to will 9:30 to arrive faster with my mind powers, and when it finally appeared, my instructor was STILL failing at being funny by trying to incorporate REO Speedwagon into our websites. At 9:32 he goes, “Oh! I guess I’m past my time!”

I was livid. I involuntarily smelled her armpits for two minutes longer than I should have. I couldn’t dart out of that room fast enough. When I emerged from the classroom I came up gasping for air, as though I had been drowning in sewage for the last three hours.

I thought, “Really? Who didn’t get the hygiene memo by age 30?!” It’s time to kick you out of web design and drop you back down to preschool where the real learning needs to happen.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but leave at least 15 minutes earlier than normal to avoid sitting next to the pee-pee adult.

The couple that gets healthy together, gets injured together

Because signs weren’t already pointing to the nursing the home, now my boyfriend has landed in physical therapy and we’re both going on a date to get MRI’s. Someone’s going to have to come take care of our dog because we’re getting too elderly to manage. I’m going to have to have a hip-eotomy and he’s going to have to have a back-eotomy. And they lived happily ever after…in matching hospital beds. Ayi yi!

Just Call Me Grandma

Bunch of jerks.

“A runner is only as happy as his unhappiest joint.” – Marc Parent, ”One Ugly Run,”  Runner’s World, March 2011

I read that line as I was skimming my monthly subscription of Runner’s World last night, and it hit a little too close to home. For the last four months, I’ve been dealing with hip pain that has gotten increasingly worse. Initially, it was thought to be hip flexor tendinitis. But as of late, it has become quite clear that there is something more sinister at hand. 

I’ve been going to physical therapy twice a week for three months (thank GOD for good insurance), and at one point, I felt that I was getting better. I was excited when I could finally do the butterfly stretch again - a victory over my hip joint! I would read Runner’s World in a state of hope. Still, I was envious of those that had the ability to run, pain-free, but still had confidence that I could one day join the team again – even if it was just 5ks and not the half marathons I had begun to fall for. Now, the magazine just pisses me off. It’s like dangling a carrot in front of a rabbit that can’t hop.

Somehow, things started going downhill. Positions that I was able to do when my hip was starting to feel better are suddenly excruciating. Exercises that were prescribed by my physical therapist are now painful and seem to make it worse. My hip pain has become so bad, that sitting down feels awful (I now sit at my desk slouched, with one leg extended, the other bent so I don’t slide right off my chair). I couldn’t even sleep through the night and was near tears earlier this week. 

They suspect that I have a labral tear, which is cartilage in my hip joint. Or it could be some kind of impingement – it feels like something is constantly pinched, and that my leg is jammed in my hip. I got an X-Ray done yesterday, and preliminary results came back showing that there were osteophytes on my pelvic bone and some other scary medical term I couldn’t quite understand by googling. But after googling osteophytes, I learned that they are bone spurs caused by cartilage breaking down, bone rubbing against each other and more bone forming in an attempt to heal itself. It’s an early sign of osteoarthritis, which is pretty much incurable (AAAAAH!!!!) And then I started wondering if that’s what is going on with my ginormous big toe – maybe it’s just one huge bone spur. I’ve actually had people ask me if it was arthritis. (AAAAHHH!!!!)

BUT I have an appointment to go over these results with my doctor on Monday, so I’m trying NOT to freak out before having more answers (Yeah right. I invented the Jump to Conclusions mat before that guy did in Office Space. Worry wort is my middle name).  Either way, I’m getting an MRI so they can see what is really going on in there. 

I am also going to see an orthopedic surgeon. When I called the first referral I was given, the receptionist said, “I don’t think you’re old enough to be a patient here…this doctor specializes in hip replacements,” before I even told her what was going on. Turned out she was right – he wasn’t an appropriate specialist for my specific condition, but I couldn’t believe someone would say that! Excuse me, receptionist, but there are young people roaming the earth in old people’s bodies. Rude. You can just call me Grandma from now on.

I will keep you all posted Sticks and Stoners. It is looking as though running is much, much farther off than I could imagine. It just might be time to get a permanent spot in the water aerobics class with the old folks and trade in Runner’s World for AARP’s publication. 

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but apparently, I’m growing some extras to break.