I am so poor I applied for a new credit card just for the free coffee

This morning, after only 3 hours of sleep and battling it out on 285, where semi trucks dominate the road and every minute I feel will be my last, i came into work only to discover a paycheck made out in the amount of pocket change. Sipping on horrible office coffee, i attempted to pay my bills online. This isnt the first time Ive realized I live WAY above my lifestyle or the first time I've made broken promises of changing my spending habits, but it is the first time I have accepted the fact that I am going to be in debt for a very, very long time. It would be alright if I was spending money on something fun and exciting, like on makeup or a new wardrobe. But the sad reality is all my money goes to food, school, Kinko's, and energy drinks to help me stay awake at night.

I need a second job to help pay for school. I need 2 Grand before the new quarter begins. Considering this goal may be a little unrealistic (Im not on student loans thanks to a Sicilian mother who doesn't understand the concept of borrowing the government's money), I decided to apply for a new credit card strictly for 5th quarter's tuition. I already have an Apple credit card, a Chase MasterCard, a Capital One Visa, a Circuit City credit card, a Bloomingdales credit card (which will be closing this afternoon, A Victoria's Secret Angel card (my favorite), and a hardly-used Niemans. What's one more? I considered getting a Delta Visa card for the free flights program. Reading the very thin, almost invisible, black print, I learned that the only way to receive the rewards is if I pay an annual fee. The annual fee is just as much as a round trip somewhere. Scandalous. So, I've applied for the next best thing, a Starbucks Visa. I get $25.00 in Starbucks money after my very first purchase. Every time I spend a $100.00, I get additional Starbucks credit. With the tuition increase and the cost of Bob's Radio class next quarter, I'll be swimming in Starbucks. I am sure there is a catch somewhere but my eyes are too tired to read anything further. I cant wait until the day I am out of school, out of debt and living a much more riveting lifestyle, like one that will have me living in a rat and cock roach infested studio in NYC. Now that's worth every penny.

loves,
mer

Crazy career always getting in the way

It seems like every time I answer my Razor these days, one of my girlfriends is on the other end screaming about getting engaged. How did this happen? When did my friends suddenly stop being sex fiends and start sucessfully having serious relationships? When did they trade in their crazy, drunken late nights for early, sober ones? And most importantly, when did all my girlfriends suddenly turn into these scary things called Brides-To-Be?

Don’t get me wrong, I think one day I would like to settle down. But that one day is not any time soon. I figure, what’s the rush? I would really like to establish myself in the career world and become financially independent before signing away my single life, forever. What I really question is, why do so many women feel like they have to trade a career for a man? Why cant women have both? We don’t live in a Leave it to Beaver world anymore. Unfortunately, divorce happens in 1 in 2 marriages. Women should prepare themselves for that. I am no feminist by any means but women should really stop relying on men for all their financial support. Its 2007- it’s about time women start taking control of their own fortune and happiness in life.

I recently read a darling article (atleast at first thought) in the July issue of Skirt. It was written by a very intelligent Columbia graduate. At first, I thought it was written beautifully, witty, and gave the whole prenuptial agreement a whole new light.

Wife For Hire
Sure,” I tell my fiancé the first time he mentions a prenuptial agreement. I’ve always assumed he’d want one. He has money and that’s what people with money do- they protect it.
“I don’t really care about it,” he says with an apologetic grin, “it’s just that my financial adviser…”
“It’s ok,” I interrupt him, “I’d love to.”
A couple of days later, on a warm early May evening, as we sip wine on the porch of his Cape Cod summer house, discussing what music to walk down the aisle to, he brings it up again. What a romance killer! The last think I want right now- two months before we vow for better or worse, till death do us part-is to be dragged into a debate of who gets what in the event of divorce.
“Just draft the damn thing with your lawyer and I’ll sign it,” I say and get up to prepare dinner.
The third time he invokes the prenuptial is to tell me to get a lawyer. Unless I am legally represented, the contract is invalid. It isn’t enough that I have to plan the wedding and arrange the honeymoon, but I have to look for a lawyer too?
“Don’t worry,” he says, “my attorney recommended one for you. Just call him and tell him that Mangold referred you.”
While I admire the Manhattan skyline through the floor-to ceiling windows of my lawyer’s midtown 19th-florr office, he gives me a brief review of New York State Marital Law.
If an asset is acquired after the marriage, he says, it is considered marital property unless it is a gift or inheritance. In the event of divorce, marital property is equitable divided between the spouses.
It sounds pretty fair to me, and I nod.
“You understand, don’t you,” he says, looking into my eyes, “that with the prenuptial agreement your fiancé is asking you to waive the rights granted you by state law?
I snap to attention. “Waive my rights?”
“He’ll specify in the prenuptial agreement what he wants to give you instead of what you the rights to have under state law,” he says and explains that these kinds of agreements are usually structured around the number of years the marriage lasts.
“Does that make sense?” he asks.
“It sounds just like the contract I signed at work.”
I get it now- my fiancé is hiring me for a wife: “Here’s your contract, honey. If you quit or I lay you off, say, in two years, you get this much, in twenty years, this much.”
And it’s up to my attorney to get me a fat severance check.
Just as I’ve become comfortable thinking in the plural and planning for our future, the prenuptial forces me to revert to thinking of my interests. To protect myself for the man I am marrying.
Call me a hopeless romantic, but when did divorce become as inevitable as death? Sure, shit happens, but I don’t want to be thinking at the alter, “till divorce do us part.” What bothers me most though is the feeling I am assigned a price tag. And a low one at that.
Later that evening, when my fiancé thanks me for dinner, I force a smile before I reply: “that’s why you pay me the big bucks, boss,” I say. He looks at me in dismay.
“Wait, you havent even hired me yet,” I go on. “I’m jus the intern, busting my ass for free in hope of being prompted to Wife.”
He doesn’t find it funny. And he’s right. What’s gotten into me lately. I’ve turned bitter, and as he points out, we havent even discussed the money yet. But that’s because it’s not about the money.
The prenuptial had made perfect sense to me when I thought it was mean to protect the assets my fiancé would come with to the marriage. Now that I know it safeguards the money my husband will make while I am at home taking care of our children, I am no longer sure.
After three years together, we have figured out that-surprise! - he has a comparative advantage in bringing home the bacon while I’m better at cooking it and cleaning up afterwards. As long as we’re both happy with the labor distribution as such, it sounds like an equal partnership to me. And should there be a divorce, both parties-according to the state law-walk away with half of the bacon accumulated during the marriage.
I can see how it might seem unfair to have to divide what he makes. After all, housekeeping and babysitting, which we both agree would be my share of the deal, are not the most profitable jobs. And should we make a numerical comparison, my contribution would seem pathetic at best. But how about all the money I will not be making because instead I’ll be changing diapers and cooking dinners?
I picture us divorced in 10 years. He- a successful gray-haired professional in his early fifties, behind the wheel of a convertible, a twenty-something chick next to him. I- in my forties, an out-of-shape divorcee with two kids and no job. He’s only gotten richer, while my value (professionally and physically) has decreased faster than his car’s. What’s so wrong with sharing the money we’ve made for these 10 years? And I mean we, for I would have built no career, secured no highly-paid job.
The more I think about the prenup, the more I worry. Wouldn’t it allow my future husband an easy way out? Wouldn’t it turn our marriage into a risk-free deal that can be easily broken should a younger-than-me stray woman show up? I shouldn’t be distrustful of my fiancé, I scold myself. But, then again, would he need a prenuptial if he trusted me?
But that is what marriage is all about. We are both taking risks by undertaking a life together. He risks losing money and I risk losing a career. And it seems to me-if we are to keep score-that the latter is a lot more valuable. It provides money but also fulfillment. I’m willing to give it up for our future family but if we are to divorce one day, a forsaken career would be worth more than money can buy.
We married in July, sans the prenuptial.

So, like I said, I first read this and I thought it was super cute. Then a couple hours later, I started getting bothered by this woman's thought process. If the woman is so worried about losing a chance at a career then why doesn’t she just have one? Why cant she have a family AND a career? And why does the woman already envision herself as an old hag at the age of 40? My mother is 65 and still looks like she is 40. That’s certainly not by luck. It's because she takes very good care of herself.

I just think women are worth more than just being a man’s slave, so to speak. If a woman is happy becoming a housewife then more power to her. I don’t think I could do it, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with being one. Just don’t bitch about it like the woman in the essay. She is making a conscious choice to give up a fulfilling career, as she states it. She could have both, the family and the career, but she chooses only to peruse one path, not both. I don’t know, just seems like this marriage thing is worth more trouble than not. I am sure one day I’ll be ready for it but as of right now, I am definitely enjoying playing the field.

LOVES

mer

Comedy Hour with 2 men named Dave

I remember sitting in Emotive Writing when Tania read a story about a man finding poop in a foreign toilet. At first I was extremely disgusted. I am not a big fan of the toilet talk. Sex talk, yes. Ebarrassing bodily functions, not so much. A couple months down the road, I found and purchased a penny book on Amazon. I didn’t know anything about the author but the reviews sounded great. A week later, Me Talk Pretty One Day came in the mail and instantly became obsessed with David Sedaris. When I discovered Tania took the poop story from this very book, I reread it and to my surprise actually found it quite amusing the second time around. David has a way with words that would make any writer envious. He writes so simple yet his stories are always engaging and always entertaining. Comic genius.

For the last couple of weeks Ive been struggling to keep my spirits up. Something mean recently happened to me and it’s just been hard to swallow. I’ve had no motivation to blog or to be around anyone because I’ve been consumed with all these negative thoughts swimming in my head. My best friend, knowing how much I love Sedaris, sent me some of his sound clips this evening. I instantly feel a million times more inspired. I am seeing him perform live in October. Can’t wait!

I posted 3 David Sedaris readings below. I highly recommended reading Me Talk Pretty One Day. Easily, one of the funniest books ever written.

Also, I added 3 Dave Chappelle jokes to the playlist. He’s an exceptional storyteller as well.

Hope u like

mer

Gold Digger in training

One week into my new job and I've already met a man who offered to pay for my gym membership, car payments, 4 Dave Matthews tickets, my recent car accident, and next quarter's tuition. He said I could take the money with no strings attached but lets face it, when it comes to money, there's always strings attached. Naturally, I said no and had no regrets. Then, this evening, while I was at work, guess who offers to buy me 4 front row tickets to Dave Chappelle? Each ticket cost like 200.00 but it would totally be worth it. I am a HUGE fan of Chappelle and dying to go to that show this weekend! As much as I wanted to say yes, I said so sorry but I cannot. I wonder what he'll offer me next?

Tool Time in Hotlanta

There are few places in this world (outside Corporate America) where a woman finds herself in a room outnumbered by men. There is China but it also takes about 2 days to get there and jet lag is a bitch. There's Saudi Arabia but I don't see a long line of women dying to go there. Then, there is East Andrews(www.eastandrews.com), an European-inspired cafe/bar located in the stylish boutique district of Buckhead's West Village. Live music accompanied by the peaceful sound of a waterfall fills a courtyard with good looking men and women. Sexy bartenders shake up extra strong concoctions which in turn, makes it easier to approach large crowds of boys hungry to play the flirtatious game. The only catch? The place is filled with tools.

When Chrissy and I strutted up to East Andrews around midnight, there was already a line wrapped around the corner. We waited near a red-carpeted entrance for about 15 minutes until a very impatient valley girl ran up to the line and demanded to be let in. 5 minutes later, Chrissy and I would be weaving in and out of men (and some women) dressed in very trendy garb. As Chrissy and I made our way to the bar, 2 unbelieving Global Warming Texans approached us and did their very best to impress. From bragging about being high school baseball coaches to attempting Bush comedy, the two men, dressed in oversized blazers, failed miserably at sustaining our attention. We walked away and strolled into a very muted light room. A man, looking identical to Horatio Sanz from SNL, immediately started hitting on Chrissy. He was extremely nice but just tried way too hard. After 5 minutes of bragging about his sister working for VH1 and Scott Bayo, Chrissy and I disappeared into the courtyard. Surrounded by Prada-clad gals and clean-cut chaps, we met 2 new boys, Mr. Shorty Short and Mr. Tooly Tim. In the course of our conversation, we met another man who would be sporting a flamboyant man purse. Mr. Man Purse claims he founded Nascar and owns about 1/3 of Atlanta. I wonder how many women that line works on?

Overall, East Andrews is fun if you are into people watching and something very chill. If you are looking for a date or someone to spend the rest of your life with, I would head somewhere else. Unless you are into tools. And then in that case, hammer away.

Next week, No Mas! (or maybe M lounge)
Loves,
mer

Beer's a bitch

The rebound girl never wins. Especially if the man she's dating just ended a 4 year relationship- with beer. Daniel loves beer so much he would sell his soul for just a sip. And naturally, I have it bad for him. At first I thought I had complete control over the situation. The bitch would pop up in discussion from time to time, dazzle his head with lustful thoughts for a minute or two, but for the most part, I was winning. And then last night, after literally 30 seconds of dog on dog action, she showers him with shame which causes him to force quit. AA meetings teach you to wait a year before getting into a relationship. Daniel waited 3 weeks. Evidentially, the bitch got to his head last night and stopped what very much could have been the best sex ever. I got the, it’s not you, it’s me” speech. I’ve never gotten this line before but I am certain it almost always means, really it’s your fault. Daniel thinks he’s too sick to get emotionally attached to anyone right now. He says I am too much of a temptation and although he wants me, “we” must be patient Naturally, it makes me want him more.

I am constantly finding myself with men dilemmas. I have a habit of falling in love with all the wrong men. Recently there was Mr.I Love Live Porn, dude. His thing is watching friends fuck his girl. However beautiful he may have been, that is a menu order I would never choose. Then who could forget Mr. Big, who NEVER wants to settle down, Mr. I love to pee on women and then fuck them, and of course, Mr. I am so beautiful lets spend the entire date talking about it. Freshly added to the list is Mr. I have an addiction and it’s not you. I know I should probably walk away, so says my head. My heart says I need to tough it out and put the bitch in her place. Plus, last night, my “number” increased. By a half. For nothing else, I need to finish what I started. Even if it means riding the rebound ride a little bit longer.

25 SIGNS YOU HAVE GROWN UP

With my birthday fast approaching, I am dreading getting older. At the end of September, I will be 27. Not looking forward to it at all. My friend sent me this list the other day and sadly, I answered yes to most of them.

1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them.
2. Having s-x in a twin bed is out of the question.
3. You keep more food than beer in the fridge.
4. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed.
5. You hear your favorite song in an elevator.
6. You watch the Weather Channel.
7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and "break up."
8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14.
9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up."
10. You're the one calling the police because those %&@# kids next door
won't turn down the stereo.
11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling s-x jokes around you.
12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore.
13. Your car insurance goes down and your car payments go up.
14. You feed your dog Science Diet instead of McDonald's leftovers.
15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt
16. You can't take naps from noon to 6 PM anymore
17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the beginning of one.
18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 AM would severely upset, rather
than settle, your stomach.
19. If you're a gal, you go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not
condoms and pregnancy tests.
20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good stuff."
21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time
22. "I just can't drink the way I used to" replaces "I'm never going to
drink that much again."
23. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real work.
24. You drink at home to save money before going to a bar.
25. You read this entire list looking desperately for one sign that doesn't
apply to you and can't find one to save your sorry old butt.
BONUS: When you find out your friend is pregnant you congratulate them
instead of asking "Oh S*$# What Happened?"

Hotlanta gets Freaky

Often referred as the buckle of the Bible Belt, Atlanta is best known for her Gone with the Wind, Coca Cola, Hip-Hop, and one very poetic Blonde. Since 1965, Atlanta has been rocking out at the Clermont Lounge (www.clermontlounge.net). The legendary Blondie, a stripper known for crushing beer cans between her gargantuan, sagging rack, lures in spectators from all over the country. Located in the dingy basement of the Clermont Hotel (which is rented out by the hour), this notorious dive bar is home to half a dozen 40some (and some 70), seedy, heavily cellulited, aging strippers. There are even rumors that a couple of midgets have stripped at this joint at one time. Having only been there once before, Chrissy and I revisited this scandalous, squalid bar this past Friday evening. The first time we went, a man waiting by the hotel asked how much I was charging for sex. Apparently he thought I was a prostitute. I was hoping our second time there would be just as memorable. And it was.

Upon arriving, Chrissy and I walked straight to the bathroom where we met a 70 year old, white haired stripper wearing a Little Miss Riding Hood dress and blue eyelashes. She was lecturing another striper about STDs. “Never let toilet water splash your coochie.” Very educational. Little Miss Hood asked us if we wanted a dance. We kindly declined. After our field trip to the bathroom, we headed up to the cash only bar where we met Mr. Hunchback, an ex Clermont bouncer. In the course of the evening, Mr. Hunch shared multiple stories and secrets, secrets I could share but it would be more fun if you witnessed them first hand. He bragged about the different celebrities who party at the lounge when in town; everyone from Kid Rock and Marilyn Manson to Bubba Sparks, Chris Rock, and Outkast have played within the Clermont walls. The only downfall of the evening was when a very shady clown walked in. I am deadly scared of clowns so when I first saw the longhaired, red nose freak, I began to panic and almost broke into tears. Clowny didn’t stay very long, but long enough to tell that he was wearing flame covered contacts and had sawed down his teeth. Nasty.

So why visit the lounge? Other than being voted as one of the best dive bars in Atlanta by Maxim Magazine, the best bar in the county by Esquire, and recommended as the place to visit before you die by GQ, it is a staple in Atlanta history. Few other places have sustained Atlanta's attention quite like the Clermont. This lounge is really one of those places that you must see at least once, even if it is just for the mer shock value. Like Maxim says, “Clermont is, like aged spirits, appreciated by some but likely to make uninitiated eyes water.” Just don’t look anyone directly in the face and you'll be fine. And be very weary of the clown.

Damn! I wish I came up with this!

Since taking Paul's Branding class, I've been paying closer attention to car advertisements. My group is working on Audi and running into every problem you can think of. Today, as I was watching Tiger win another PGA title (honestly, cant someone else win for a change?), I saw this commercial. So simple and yet so amazingly good! I really wish our group came up with this. And if you listen to the song one of the lines goes-how much does it cost? I'll buy it- Genius. Now I suddenly have an urge to rush out and buy a Jeep. And they say subliminal messages don’t work. I beg to differ.

If I had a million dollars

We live in a world of extremes. Our culture screams more, more, more. The majority of rich people living in our country thrive on bling bling. I have comprised together a list of the most extravagant items you could buy if money was no object. Kinda sick when you stop and think about it- there are dying children who go for days without food but many rich people would rather spend their money on a Victoria's Secret diamond bra. Go fig.

If you were a millionaire, you could possibly buy...


















The most expensive house in America.
Three Ponds, Bridgehampton, N.Y.
$75 million
It has a U.S. Golf Association-rated golf course with its own pro shop, a 75-foot-long swimming pool with pavilion, grass tennis court, orangerie and three fish-stocked ponds, and 14 gardens.







a $30 Million bikini. The bikini features over 150 carats of D Flawless diamonds, including a 51 carat D Flawless Pear Shape, a 30 carat D Flawless Emerald Cut, a pair of 15 carat D Flawless Rounds and a pair of 8 carat D Flawless Pear Shapes all set in platinum.










How about a $1.6 million bed? It magnetically floats in thin air. Dutch architect Janjaap Ruijssenaars created this comfortable and alluring bed. The bed floats about 40 cm off the floor and can hold up to 900kg of weight. (I secreatly want one)









Nicknamed Le Million. This cell costs $1.3 mil

















$14,000 for a Tea Bag


















Tequila Ley, Platinum and White Gold, sells for $225,000 a bottle.






















For $1.5 Mil, you could buy Elton John for an evening
















Only $50,000










The Yalos Diamond LCD TV costs $130,000, but its really worth it. You see, the LCD TV is plated in white gold and encrusted with 20 carats worth of diamonds

Hotlanta finds fun in unexpected places.

Living in a city often referred to as Hotlanta, I question just how hot Atlanta really is. 20 years ago this town had nothing but a lot of greenery. Today, thanks to Donald trumping his way into Buckhead, the ATL is becoming a major Metropolitian player. However our night life, at times, is dwindling on boredom. Therefore, I have created a new weekly feature. With so many new restaurants, lounges, and clubs hitting the scene, I have decided to visit a new place every week and critique my experience. Tin Lizzy's will mark my first of many reviews.

Hidden on the corner of Roswell and Piedmont Road hosts one of Buckhead’s best-kept secrets, Tin Lizzy's (www.tinlizzyscantina.com). A very chill, cheap bar packs this intimate watering hole with good-looking people. Chrissy and I arrived Friday evening, a little before 11, just after her roommate made the recommendation. At first we had our reservations; Buckhead is known for entertaining a very young, very inexperience crowd. Pushing almost 27, I try to avoid all places in which the majority of drinkers are underage.

We found the place by pure luck, almost driving right past. Parking however did not come as easy. Forced to park and walk about a block away, we choked it up as just being able to savor in more alcohol. As we were entering Lizzie’s, 3 very good looking and tipsy men were walking out. They flirted with us, we flirted with them, and the evening started off great. Live music from a quant patio echoed inside as table of men watched Barry Bond on one of the 3 flat screen TVS. I discovered the best way to meet men is by standing by a flamboyant baby blue and pink jukebox pretending to pick out a song. In the course of about 25 minutes, a tall dirty blond with piercing blues, a charming brunette with adorable dimples, and a salt-and pepper cowboy that proved age is always kinder to men than women approached me.

By 1, everyone had pretty much cleared out, making this place a great place to pre-drink. Instead of eating dinner, Chrissie and I went straight to the $15 pitcher of margaritas. However, after speaking to many regulars, Tin Lizzy’s has a killer Mexican menu. Supposedly, this little cantina marks one of the best in Atlanta. And an extra plus, it’s dirt cheap

Overall, if you are looking for a chill, laid back evening, perhaps a place to also meet good-looking people, I recommend Tin Lizzy’s. And with all that walking you will do to and from the car, imagine how much more you can drink.

Pros: Small place makes for cheap drinks, cheap dates, and a high chance of scoring more
Cons: Although I didnt eat here, I did glance at the menu. TL charges for chips and salsa. Not cool, TL. Not cool at all.


Grade= C, as in Could be better but fun all the same

So Sweet

I am having 2 extremely wretched weeks. Without getting into specifics as of yet, let's just say everything bad that could possibly happen, happened. And just when I thought I would break down at work from all my new found stress, my friend sends me these pictures and totally brightens up my day. Meet 'Heart-kun', a Chihuahua puppy who has been born with a perfect heart-shaped pattern in his fur. The breeder, from Japan, has never seen a similar mark on any of the 1000 pups she has bred in the past. The Chihuahua was born in May. So sweet.