A Theorem on Valet Analytics

I have had my car towed 3 times now. Twice in the last 2 months. West Hollywood off Santa Monica at night is just a giant trap - I think there are actually cameras waiting for lazy people like me to park in mis-marked spaces.

I had my car towed once in college, one of my miserable roommates thought it would be funny to call my car in because I was parked in her spot. In order to get it back, I had to bribe a cab driver to take me into the nether-region of South West Philadelphia - a place HE was terrified to enter...imagine how I felt. I also had to pay $280 in cash to a very angry and large man to get it back - the whole experience was balancing helplessly on the edge of my getting raped and slaughtered in a part of Philadelphia that even shady cab-drivers fear.

Here's the problem - in WeHo, it's only $122 (chargeable on almost any major credit card) and the towing place is right down the street. They basically moved my car to a slightly less convenient location. I'm not saying that I look forward to venturing into the poorly lit office space of Johnson's Towing, but I definitely hear myself say "fuck it" when taking a chance on an unexplained open parking space.

Now that parking tickets are payable online, they don't affect points on my license and getting towed is not likely to put a dark cloud over my day, I find myself racking up the bills payable to the state. I realized I've paid thousands of dollars to the cities of Philadelphia, Santa Monica and Los Angeles. Money that clearly doesn't go toward the bettering of street quality or comprehensible sidewalk signage.

It just feels like giving into the hypocrisy of a driving city when I pull into a valet-ed parking lot and fork over 5-20 bucks to park for dinner. Granted that's nothing compared to $122 and a taxi cab but there's this unspoken pride that bursts forth with finding a spot and not paying for it/not getting caught.

The best part is I could have walked to the restaurant from my apartment, but no one outside of bums and joggers dare be seen on the sidewalks of LA after dark.

What I've decided to do to solve this problem is, I believe, the rich kid solution. (The following reasoning will likely only make sense to a spoiled such as myself)...

Say I'm willing to spend $30-$80 on dinner and plan to leave a $6-$16 tip for that...and realistically there are about 2-5 drinks involved so lets round that number to an even $75. So if I spend an average of $75 on a night out, that's still less than getting towed. I've decided to forfeit one big night out a month and put that money in my newly designated parking pouch. Every month I will allot myself $75 to spend on parking in LA. If I run out before the month is up I either get a ride from a friend or I'm not going out. If I have left-overs, that goes toward the next month's $75.

On another note, I've been looking for the perfect black work bag - big enough to comfortably carry my laptop and designer enough to not have the word 'Coach' on it. Gilt hasn't had any great bags lately, suggestions?

Savoring the Savings

I am so hungry. Though my diet may be strict, I don't believe anyone, no matter how disciplined, can curb those late afternoon hunger pangs at work. It's far too easy to venture to the nearest coffee shop and snag a scone or cookie or grilled chicken and brie panini as I have for the last few days...and that piles up - both in calories and in cash.

Today I decided to try and beat the urge by bringing a baggie of red vines to work - they are the lowest calorie to chew factor ratio candy I have found and are going for $5 a barrel at Ralphs - what a bargain buy!

So I set the sad little plastic bag next to my computer on my desk and my boss walks in and, without even thinking twice, snags the bag and 3 of my allotted 10 vines for the day. My tummy just grumbled as I typed that. 3 whole vines - that over 20 minutes of savoring I just lost.

But I veer from my point - bringing snacks to work is the best possible way to avoid those unnecessary snack expenditures.

I stopped going to Pete's for my morning latte and opted to make my own - saves over 20 bucks a week! (though my real reason was the lines are just too outrageous to be standing in before 9am - the last thing I want to do before I've had my coffee is wait in an obnoxiously long line for my coffee). By brewing my own java and bringing some red vines, pistachios and chewy bars to work I avoid the whole mid-day binge. And we have all been at that point where stabbing a co-worker in the neck with a ball-point pen for a candy bar wasn't totally out of the question...

Also, it helps me keep tabs on my caloric intake for the day - it's a known fact that people gain weight at desk jobs. I don't think I have room for a treadmill in this office, so BYO-ing breadsticks is the next best thing. As delicious as those lattes and paninis are, I feel much better about gorging on post-work happy hour cocktails and canapé's - it's a trade off.

I bought an adorable pencil skirt on Gilt that just barely fits - I've def put on that post holiday poundage (if there is such a thing?). Off to the gym!

The Kink in Kinkos.

I've been having to get a lot done at Kinkos for work because we just moved into new offices and our printers aren't set up yet. It's fairly simple, I just need to print out some of our information and have it bound, and yet, of course, these Kinkos workers think I'm speaking another language. What typically sets out to be a 20 minute trek to the printing haven turns into hours of technological difficulty torture.

I lobbied my boss today for our own binding machine.

It's shocking to me also how unbelievably expensive this stuff is! Of course most locations don't let you plug in your own computer to print, so I have to put my credit card into this machine that seems like its swallowing it whole and sending it across the street to be used for online scams. At 90 cents a minute and snail paced internet I watch the dollar number increase faster than the pages load.

The printers always jam and I find myself standing in the awkwardly large empty space in the middle of the store, angry rap music coursing through my body, on the verge of threatening the copy machine a la Office Space.

Today I have been bombarded with empty promises and worthless encounters. I had to print my stuff 3 times in order for it to come out clear, and then the copy machine wasn't working so the guy made me email my stuff to him so he could print it on the 'special machine' in the back that normal people can't use. Luckily for me though, he didn't realize when I stormed out with my printed pages and only paid for the time I spent on the computer - his binding job was forcefully on the house.

I do feel a little bad about it, but honestly that company is so corrupt with its pricing that I feel like I got out of paying for a parking ticket in Philadelphia.

Each trip for a dozen packets bound ends up costing me over 100 bucks and hours of frustration. More than a trip to Whole Foods. Of course I get refunded by work, but those hours are going to cost thousands in botoxing wrinkles down the road - and you gotta think long term.

So we are going to buy a binding machine, which, though the lovely simpletons at Kinkos seem to be able to work while bitching at their baby daddy on a handsfree, looks like the earliest version of the computer chip to me. I know it will take me weeks to figure this thing out, but I'm determined to never venture back to that world of awful again.

I feel like this blog is turning more into a rant...I will do my best to focus on more imporant rich kid issues, like how to buy things on sale etc.

Recession is not = to Recess

I know I've already blogged about travel, but I spent the last week in planes, trains and automobiles and have more to say.

On my red-eye flight over to NYC there were 2 whole empty rows in the back and I went to go lay down. As I lay my tired head to rest on an awful paper pillow I get a very angry and flamboyant red-headed face lingering over mine, "excuse me, this row is for the crew".

Oh, I'm sorry, I thought I paid to fly on this plane.

How moronic, this is YOUR JOB SIR, to serve the paying patrons of American Airlines and yet, you have the audacity to tell me - to my face - that these rows are for you and your lazy minions to REST?! Am I missing something here? No, no no, you do not get two whole rows to spread out and gossip about what pilot you went down on last week and how weird Jennifer Aniston looks in the most recent US Weekly - no - you get to push that little cart up and down the rows asking if I would like something to drink. And yes, I'll take a soda water with lime.

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE TRAVEL INDUSTRY!? Since when can we not take advantage of an empty row in coach? That's like showing a JAP a sale at Saks and then telling her it's for employees only - isn't that counterproductive? Just as I reach the age where I have to accept that I cannot afford first class on my own and that slumming it in coach is the new chic I am not even allowed to enjoy the most sacred move in economy travel?

These people should be grateful they are employed and yet they bitch and take advantage - you can bet I am writing a letter! And it's not just airlines.

I got into a cab in New York and as I swiped my credit card it wouldn't let me continue until I entered a tip - what if I don't want to tip?! What if this ass hole jerked me around the most gridlocked streets of Manhattan and almost had me puking all over his Curry-scented seats? It took me 2 tries to realize I could hit 0 for tip and when I did, the cabbie says "what about tip?"

WHAT ABOUT TIP?? Tips are meant to be earned, hence the whole concept. I worked for tips once for a summer, and yeah, it sucks, but you learn how to earn them, to entertain and fight for people's crumpled dollar bills - not flat out say, "hey, where's my tip?".

My job is to make people want to buy things from me, to make friends with strangers - I understand how to build a rapport with a stranger - that's when you get a tip from me. If you find a way to make good conversation, hit a nerve or just do a good job at your job you will get a tip.

Examples: On my way to NYC, before that horrid red-eye flight from hell I went to an airport bar for a drink. Yes I flashed my platinum amex for entrance into the Qantas lounge because typically these lounges have free booze. Not this one, because apparently the day of the free-bee in the airport is dead to America. But a married man was kind enough to buy my batting eyelashes a glass of wine and the bartender was beyond. She was amazing - arguably the best bartender I have ever come in contact with. Her name was Sherri and she was the most genuinely sweet woman. She filled me up to the brim, twice, and told me all about this new app that tells you when cops are around - like a radar detector.

She also called me pretty and made me feel special....and not in a creepy lezzy way.

Now I had no cash on me, not a dollar, and felt so guilty leaving Sherri high and dry that I called the lounge to praise her, called qantas and the fine people at Amex to thank them for hiring such a great bartender - yes, I'm that person, but it made me feel good to do something nice for Sherri.

If only there were more Sherri's in the world. I am sick of disgruntled, lazy employees expecting more out of me than they deserve - it's called a recession, not recess.

Creative Hiatus

Hello to the few of you (if any) who actually subscribed to this and said WTF, where did she go. I got a job! No excuse for leaving this high and dry but I promise I feel terrible about not making the time to at least update the blog. It's been 2 months and I have no good excuse. That being said in the last 8 weeks I have done a lot, learned a lot and been all over the place.

I am going to put in the effort to blog at least once a week.

Yesterday, I actually helped a friend paint her kitchen. I had never painted anything other than a canvas in art class and have to admit it was fun - even though I am a terrible painter. My friend had to constantly remind me to try and do straight strokes and avoid the knobs - which I of course was instantly drawn to and painted all over. Before we started we went out and bought the paint, there is so much that goes into that process!! Watching her put the little paint samples on the wall and decide which was the better 'off white' made me a little dizzy. I had no idea how involved that process actually is, "this one's too pink, this one's too grey etc."

It was overwhelming, but a great way for me to learn. I just found out I get to keep my sublet for a year and now have the freedom to alter the decor - this girl has the worst taste in paint ever. My living room actually has a 'red wall' a la sex and the city, a big bright red wall and it's awful. Now, instead of spending the hundreds it most likely would have cost me to have the room professionally painted, I am going to take a weekend to pick out paints and do it myself (maybe with my adorable aussie roommate!). I may have to bring in one of my more experienced painter friends to do the corners and 'hard to reach' spots, but I'm now dead set on doing this myself. Plus, as my friend said as she dipped her brush into a lovely pale green pot of paint, "when this is all done I will feel like I've really accomplished something".

It's just too easy to delegate these seemingly arbitrary tasks to others. Writing a check to a handyman is so much less rewarding than wiping dirt off the brow and taking in all the work I've just accomplished myself. In the last 2 months, I've pumped air into my own tires instead of going to a mechanic, I've been making my own lunches instead of eating out and I've been drinking hard cider instead of cocktails at bars to curb spending. Cider is actually delicious and makes you look more laid back at a bar! It's just a throw in, I'm sure I'll have a lot more to say about drinking as this honeymoon with the new job wears off and I realize I will never have spring break or summer vacation again : (

I know it isn't much, but for me it's like I've become a completely different person and I love the way being even remotely self reliant has made me feel. Every time I bring up a new concept for this blog I find myself bursting with pride and I am dedicated to continue it now.

Until next time....

Eating

I've officially decided that vegans are total hypocrites. I went to Whole foods today to try out some funky products that apparently taste really good when blended in smoothie form and detox and all that 'good for you' crap. A small bottle of this weird kelp powder was $20! All the organic foods are sooo much more expensive and all this flax seed and quinoa stuff gets so pricey - I don't understand how the grungies pull it off.

Most people who classify themselves as vegan, I would classify as weirdo hippies - weirdo hippies don't make a lot of money. Unless these people started Whole Foods and just work their for the fun of it, they are full of it. There is no way to sustain eating a healthy lifestyle by their standards without having over $100 to spend on food every week. Maybe there is some other vegan super-store that offers discounts on hemp milk but I actually burst out laughing at the price of some of these supplements. Whatever genius granola eating cruncher came up with the concept of vegan deserves the profits he's made - even though, if he were a real hippie, he would disregard his millions and give them to the starving hippies trying to pay for tofu with food stamps.

It made me realize why America is so fat - it can't afford healthy food! Now I get it, the poorer you are, the more likely you are going to sacrifice your organic avocados for taco bell. I mean forget about restaurants, just supplying yourself for a weeks worth of food is gonna put you back the same as a great night at Nobu - and that food will go bad before the week is up!

A friend of mine went to Oberlin and turned super grainy when she got there - no more shaving, no more uggs and her best friend was named Rain or something like that. She went totally vegan and couldn't understand why she was sick all the time. It turned out she was allergic to soy and all its products - so basically she was poisoning herself for 6 months. Healthy my ass Moon Beam, she dove right into the brisket at passover.

I don't know how I feel about how healthy these people claim to be. As I pleaded with the store clerk to explain what the hell the differences were between Omega 3 supplements she pointed one out and said "an 80 year old uses this stuff, and his hair hasn't even begun graying yet". That's not awesome that's some sci-fi crazy shit. It's one thing to stop eating fried food and loaves of challah bread - it's another to turn yourself into a pill popping, mate drinking, old ass man child.

These people hate on corporate America and yet they have a monopoly on those of us who admire the US Weekly photos of the Olsen twins eating edamame. I don't think it's wrong, I just think they are all total hypocrites. Going around buying clothes at thrift stores and riding their bikes and not shaving all while spending as much on food as 'we' do - LISTEN HERE HIPPIES: YOU ARE JUST AS BAD AS I AM, YOU ARE JUST AS BAD AS BEN AND JERRY FOR SELLING OUT TO CORPORATE AMERICA AND YOU ARE JUST AS BAD AS URBAN OUTFITTERS NO LONGER SELLING ACTUAL VINTAGE CLOTHING.

I say drink your soy protein shake and eat your creepy grains and supplements, but also realize that by spending money on them, you are just supporting the people you claim to despise. Stupid hippies. At least I am honest about how bad a person I am - there may be a circle in hell for me, but I'm going with the non-believers. You crunchies are going deep into the Sitxth circle and will have an eternity of wandering while wearing heavy lead trench coats (if I remember Dante correctly, please tell me if I'm wrong). And guess what - the lead won't be organic and your frail little pale bodies will barely be able to shoulder the weight of reality, not that they don't already.

Laundry

Those of us who went to boarding school were forced to do our own laundry (but for those highly elitist few whose maids would trek up once a week with the dry cleaning and a basket of freshly pressed linens). Considering it cost 50 cents a wash and dry, very few of us actually ventured into the basement with our mesh 'dirty' bags - who actually carries around change? We would hold out until a long weekend and either go to a friends house or take a huge suitcase home.

My first time coming home I had a huge pile of cloths that I didn't know what to do with because I didn't have a big suitcase - my parents had taken it with them leaving me only with a weekend bag. Thinking I was being resourceful, I found the clear thick plastic case my comforter came in and stuffed it full of all my soiled goods. I checked it through as luggage at the airport. My mother came to pick me up and as I tried to explain what my luggage looked like she stared back at me in horror. Not only did America West lose my "bag", it had ripped apart and my shit was everywhere. It took me three years to live that one down and replace those clothes - rich kid. real world situation. retarded response.

After that, instead of just changing a dollar for quarters I started a war with the heads of residential life and demanded new, change-free washing machines. I argued that ours were below environmental standards, and that if we had those cards that we could charge with cash and swipe, more people would do their laundry. I created a new position in student government and met with the headmaster to solve the issue. By the time I graduated the new machines were in place and the cards on their way - I was one of the most powerful people in student government, had single handedly changed the school's bylaws, and still held out for vacations to do my laundry.

In college I was even more spoiled. My parents had an apartment in the town our school was in so I just did my laundry there...or rather Mousaa, the cleaning lady did. I know how to do it, I actually sometimes enjoy doing it, but I'm really, really lazy when it comes to chores. It took a semester abroad to whip me into Maytag shape. I believe I have mastered the rich kid laundry experience so that the linens come out smelling as fresh as when they are pressed at the Waldorf Astoria.

I buy that lavender vanilla fabric softener and dryer sheets. The actual detergent is standard, I've found it doesn't really matter that much. I just use anything that isn't TIDE because they test on animals. With the added lavender everything smells sooo good and feels sooo soft I just want to snuggle in a big pile of warm fabric with a season of the west wing.

I've made the mistakes of leaving my laundry in the washer too long and it gets damp; I've left it in the dryer and come back to find it thrown on the floor because someone else needed to use it; I've accidentally dyed white clothes pink and grey a number of times because I'm too lazy to sit around waiting for seperates - I just throw them all together; I've lost zippers, ripped bras and gotten bleached out white spots on my purple sheets - - but nothing compares to my stint as head of wardrobe on an indie movie set.

Long story short I was given this awesome opportunity and didn't really know what I was doing (it happens a lot). I had to wash the lead actresses' clothes every other day. Well, I didn't fully understand what bleach was and in an attempt to remove a few spots on a green skirt I made a few permanent white ones. Then, while washing a pair of white sneakers (they were really dirty) a red sock was stuck in them and I didn't know - they turned hot pink. I sat with a clorox bleach stick for 3 hours re-dying them white and the whole crew, including the director, hated me from then on.

I've learned my lesson and now take pride in my laundering skills - just never use bleach unless you want to strip something of all color. Oh and if you run out of dryer sheets you can throw a tennis ball in there and it has the same affect - my dad taught me that one.