Mind on my money and my money on my mind...

Yesterday was a good day. My tax refund hit my bank account AND it was extra paycheck month. I nearly pooped myself with glee when I saw my balance.

Anyone who has been paid on a biweekly basis is familiar with extra paycheck month. Right? If not, you are really missing out.

Generally speaking, people on a biweekly pay schedule are paid twice a month (you know, four weeks a month, divided by two) on, say, a Wednesday. This year, there are five Wednesdays in April, July, September and December. Two of those months, your paychecks will grace your bank account three times instead of two.

It is glorious.

Of course, extra paychecks usually leave your account as quickly as they come. Sigh.

Mine paid for my semi-new, shiny, refurbished laptop, the new Adobe design software suite, some basics at gap.com, my boyfriend's bday present (Rockband 2), my mom's bday present (shiny new jewelry making supplies) and my little brother's bday present (clothes).

An aside: what is it with April birthdays?! The one ex I'm still good friends with also had his birthday, as did my grammy and ultra awesome cousin. And don't even get me started on all of the Facebook birthday reminders that kept popping up. Yeeeesh.

Before you get mad at me for making too much money in a recession, my paycheck wasn't what paid for most of this stuff. It was the tax refund. The huge tax refund. That's what paying for school out of pocket will get you.

Benji the hunted ...

just cut off at the knees.

My little low rider Ginger in the Montana snow storm:

I miss my puppy doggy.

Reasons why I'm happy to be in California

#1,003,294,298,335,682

This is what my parents' house looks like today:

Now imagine the opposite of that.

Throw in some smog.

Voila! You have LA!

Let them eat exhaust...

Imagine, if you will, a commute home along Santa Monica Boulevard. Palm trees. Angry drivers. Pinkberries.

Now conjure up in your mind the image of a pink Marie Antoinette costume:


Now add a little old Chinese guy wearing said outfit. Riding a pink scooter.

Yeah.

That was my drive home on Thursday.

Sha la la la

Fridays really are for daydreaming. Well, working AND daydreaming.

For just $10,000 per month, this modest apartment in my old neighborhood in San Francisco could be mine: http://sfbay.craigslist.org/sfc/apa/1133474511.html

FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE.

Screw it. I'm just doing it now: http://catwendt.blogspot.com

Now you officially know my last name. Anonymity lost. Scary.

It's my "slightly more professional" blog. Now to spend too much time creating a good looking title/image and playing with the color scheme. Thoughts?

Where to go? Up.

I need some direction. In terms of my blog, that is.

I'm still struggling with what I want this thing to be. For now it will remain a sort of brain-vomit bucket, collecting my thoughts and spilling out onto the carpet of the blogosphere. Yummy.

I'm determined to put up something more professional soon. Maybe not here, but I promise to link you elsewhere if I move or start leading a dual blog life.

It would probably be easier if my goals didn't include being a Jane of all trades.

No sympathy for the rich ...

This article from a self-proclaimed CEO wife bemoaning her financial predicament disgusts me:

“We traditionally celebrate with about 30 friends … [N]ot hosting a birthday dinner would have spurred rumors that we were broke…”

Those are some good friends you have there. Anything less than 30 people at a party thrown in a multistar restaurant would be a disgrace? When did spending an intimate evening at home with your wife and kids become gauche?

“We still live in relative luxury, we can afford almost everything we need, and we aren’t facing the prospect of losing our home or having to turn to our families to support us.”

You can afford almost everything you *need*? I think you mean you can afford nearly everything you *want*. There’s a big difference. Choosing between food and your heart medication is vastly different from choosing between Bergdorf Goodman’s and the Gap.

“Meanwhile, retirement is like a rainbow, a beautiful mirage that we’ll probably never reach. To some people, these may seem like luxury problems, but to us they are painful.”

Boo fricking hoo. Virtually all of the older folks I know are still working because they HAVE to. Because retirement can be unaffordable even to the most frugal of hard workers. If your idea of retirement didn’t include the Bahamas and biweekly spa treatments, you could have retired a long time ago.

“The good news is that Americans have short attention spans.”

Not this one.

Happy Earth Day

The whole "green" trend thing is nice and all, but I really hope it lasts. My family has been recycling, using reusable shopping bags and eating organically grown/raised whatever as long as I can remember.

There are a lot of beautiful creatures and gorgeous places in this world. We need to treasure them.

Reduce, reuse, recycle and all that jazz.

Reappearing from the void ...

Hello again, all!

I had been so diligent about posting frequently that I now feel guilty about my absence these last few days. I gave myself a three day weekend to rock out with my superfabulous cousin for her 21st birthday up in San Francisco.

Highlights and general debauchery are below (as documented by my mobile phone. My real camera pooped out on me):

These are my biker boyfriends. Ooor I was trying to get a picture of the gorgeous stream of fog hugging Alcatraz. But I failed. At least you can see Coit tower.

The fog stream totally reminded me of Falcor from the Neverending Story. After Googling, I found this:
That's right. Falcor is Jesus' homeboy.

I spent a lot of time petting Buffy the cat.

Buffy the cat spent a lot of time using me as a heating pad during the night.

My attempt to find the old familiar dim sum place failed miserably. I can't remember the name and my parents can't remember exactly where it is. All I know is that it had a very high ceiling and balconies with dining tables. We resorted to takeout dim sum, then hiked up to Huntington Park to sit in the grass.
In the park, we found this. It's an art installation that is supposed to look like a giant metal heart. Nope. Definitely not a heart.


I also saw the seals at Pier 39, ate a ton of homemade chocolate chip cookies and went to another cousin's band's gig in Fairfax. I'm really looking forward to my next trip up.

The QZRZ@@T is silent.

I'm enjoying discovering the many ways in which Fedex butchers my name as I'm going through invoices for work. Either I can't write or they can't read.

"Cat Wonek" - Almost like wonk or wonkette.

"Crit Vurdk" - Hmm.

My personal favorite:?

Git Vent.

My new crack-cocaine.

Curse you, Jozee! I'm addicted to this thing.

You lie.

I'm tired of the happy people on TV and in magazines who are thrilled about having lost a ton of weight. They talk about how good they feel, how fantastic an active lifestyle is, etc.. Ditto to the health experts that talk about exercise and endorphins.

My bullcrapometer goes wild when I encounter them.

You wanna know how working out everyday makes me feel? Like poo. Working out makes me tired, sore and more than slightly cranky.

It's not so bad when it's accidental exercise - like a day at the beach, battling the surf and running around in the sand with friends. But when I hop on a bike or a treadmill, I always end up wondering if it's really worth it.

If you can't tell, I've been working out like mad for the last couple of weeks. Ibuprophen has become part of my daily routine. Of course, the scale hasn't moved ...

Sigh.

Your heart is made of stone ...

If this video doesn't make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Today ...

Happiness would be turning up the music and shutting out the world by closing my door.

Instead I'll work my 9-5. And maybe let my thoughts linger a little too long on things like this:

Infallible

I feel like I'm especially vulnerable to lazy finger syndrome. With urls in particular, my typing goes to pot. I have two favorites that I'd love to see turned into real websites.

www.google.om
For those seeking the yogic path. If they don't mind the whole technology = materialism thing.


www.google.zomFor the tech-savvy undead.

Escape

Me on Jaunary 19, 2004:

"There's always that inner angst you can't get rid of. Or maybe it's just something I can't get rid of. That desire, that drive, that bit of you that can't keep still, that's straining and pushing and crying and hurting and burning and killing you. Absolutely killing you. It never goes away. I really, really wish it would. And yet I don't. What if it dies and I die with it? What if I become boring, dull, grey, khaki? What then? Then there is no purpose no point no reason."

Wow. That me really needed a hug. That was me in the middle of what was probably the hardest time of my life.

It's always interesting to dig back through old journals and blogs of one's own. It gives you insight into who you were and how you've changed. If you've changed.

Luckily I'm a lot happier than I was then. There's still the pain from the past, but it's healed from a screaming wound to a dull ache that acts as white noise.

To hell and back ...

It's late. I'm bored. I decided to poke around Etsy for awhile. It turns out they have a *lot* of weird stuff on their site. Because I'm incredibly generous, I will now share my discoveries with you.

A stuffed animal spork, for your enjoyment:




Have you ever wanted a porcelain tooth jar?

Yeah, me neither.



Chuck Norris cross stitch speaks for itself:
And it probably boinked your mom last night.



All spermies go to heaven?



Zombie Bracelet:
Ick.



Looks like this necklace is going stag. HA! I'm clever ...
:/



To me, this one screams, "Pay attention to me. Hey. Hey you! I'm quirky! HEY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THINGS HOLY, PLEASE JUST NOTICE ME ALREADY!! I'M DIFFERENT!!!"



The Creepiest Doll Ever:

They call this a "reborn" baby.



Speaking of a disturbing baby theme:




A "feminine hygeine" cozy. If you're under 18 or easily offended, don't click on the picture. It links to the original page.



I suppose you can call this pop art - Britney Spears is a piece of (art)work:




Britney Spears not your style? How about an Obama coffee table?




Tassle shoes. Just in case your feet ever wanted to become strippers:


P.S. Anyone who gets why these irk me gets a gold star:

Let the geekitude commence...

(Photo from Google Images)

It's not my best work, but my very first game review was just published. I haven't read through to see what changes the editor made yet, but I do know she left in the term "venereal disease." Heh.

Now I have two whole game-related articles to my name.

I will not burden you with April Fools pranks.

So here's a bunny instead: