Priceless

Wiper blades (2)..............................................$25

Full Tank of Gas for Trip Home......................$57

Speed at which yer travellin' when the Man decides to slap ice off wiper blade........65 mph

Replacement Wiper Blades from Small Town off Interstate Auto Parts Store..............$40

7-year-old Voice from backseat saying, "Daddy, that was really stupid"...............PRICELESS

An Agonizing Death

My lovely printer. My absolutely wonderful printer. The fantastic thing.

Died.

I killed it.

Apparently, it's not intended to make a bajillion copies in 10 months.

Oops.

However, it IS still covered under warranty. And what a wonderful thing that is.

In a matter of days (excepting the holiday and the weekend) I should have the parts-n-pieces needed to make it fab again.

I can't wait.

And I plan on telling Kodak--after my stuff arrives, btw--how absolutely fab I think this little techno-marvel is.

(and I get Sweetie points for actually saving the receipt (which he bet was long-goooone), finding the papers needed, and getting the call done.

Yea, ME!

Kill Me. Kill Me RIGHT. NOW.

Yet again, I'm on vacation...and in Hell.

Why am I in Hell? I am apparently not doing enough (read: everything that needs done) to see to it that the 19-year-old Toad begins college classes next week. How it works out to be MY responsibility is anyone's guess.

No. Really. I want to hear others' guesses on how it is the mother's job to do everything annoying and inconveniencing the Toad doesn't want to do?

Lately, I'm getting this crap from two fronts: my mother, of course (because only she really truly sincerely loves him) and my aunt (who is, just now, totally insane.)

Neither of these women seems to understand these basic facts:

For years now, I have been unable to motivate, threaten into motivation, cajole, coerce, demand, pout (not that I actually pout, mind you, but apparently, I'm supposed to), guilt, or otherwise force the Toad into having some ambition and work ethic.

Nevermind that for longer than the years of unmotivated unmodifiable behavior, my mother has been undermining my decisions, my goals, and my ability to threaten, etc., the Toad. She's encouraged him to lie to me...and is majorly pissed off since he's now using that particular avoidance mechanism on her.

My aunt, on the other hand, thinks that I should call (or go) to his workplace and "talk with his manager yourself about them working around his class schedule."

Is it just me or are these people beyond "lost touch with reality"? Am I the crazy one to think that when I announced, four years ago, that I cannot and will not make myself physically (or mentally) ill in order to give THEM what they demand from the Toad (read: if he won't do it, I should for him)?

And now, on top of this insanity, it's my job to figure out how to get extra 15% off coupons for this aunt. Who can't drive. Who seems to live and die for the $1.00 she'll save on a clearanced blouse for a 5 year old next week.

I'm not making this up. I saw her Monday night, when she called and demanded that I bring her up the used and void coupon of that day to her. RIGHT. NOW.

At that time I informed her that we would be leaving on Tuesday, and we'd be home on Thursday. She called yesterday, an hour and a half after we got home, and wanted to know if I got those coupons yet. She wanted me to get online RIGHT. NOW. to get them.

She called this morning, at 10am, to ask if I had them yet. She wanted me to get online RIGHT. NOW. and get them.

I'm about to blow up at the woman, recuperating from surgery or not. I'm about to tell her that I think it's stealing to print off more than one coupon after taking that stupid survey. I want to tell her that I'd rather *gasp* pay full price for everything I ever buy again rather than listen to her incessant demands for more coupons that will save her, at most, $5 per purchase--purchases that aren't for her, and aren't needed, not by me, not by the dozen other people she's buying them for.

Oh, and with the price of gas (even if it is under $4/gal locally right now) is costing her every blessed penny she's saving with these coupons.

I want to call her up and tell her I'll bring her my unusable receipt and she can fold it three corners and stuff it...RIGHT. NOW.

Wheeeeeeeeeee-HAW!

I have triumphed against Fate and the e-machine*.

Due to the old POS computer giving up the ghost, I no longer have access to my newsletters, photos, templates, saved documents, and/or secretarial stuff-n-nonsense.

We purchased the above mentioned e-machine for slightly less than $500. Then had to purchase a $127 Microsoft Office suite (it was the cheapest, home & student use set) in order to rebuild my templates and use the word program.

Do I think it's a rip off? Yes. I think, cheap thing that I am, if I paid for programs pre-loaded, then I should have full access (and authentication ability) for said programs, and I shouldn't be swearing like a truck driver on my way to Staples at 5:30 on a Sunday afternoon to purchase the programs that are listed as pre-loaded on the machine I just paid for. Perhaps I'm naive.

I've also hear horror stories about Windows Vista, and if it does turn out to be the nightmare I've heard, I'll be getting rid of it--or I'll be choking the life out of the IT dude who convinced me it would be fine. (I'm still wondering at the reliability of said IT Dude when he didn't know that Vista would not like my previous programs and I would be trying to figure out how to retrieve, at a minimum, my photos. Photos of the Howler and various hobbified Bees necessary for my sanity and creativity.)

But I digress.

I have triumphed over the e machine's determination to stop me in my tracks. To make me cry. To make me clench my teeth until they crumble into dust. To make me swear like a truck driver in the privacy of my own home.

HAH! I may still be Pictureless-Man, but I have a template for a newsletter, and may begin preparing for the next issue.

I win! I win! I win!

*my personal judgement on the e machine remains to be decided. I hate it and I like it...the final verdict remains to be seen.

The End

So, this is the End.

The End of the IRS ranting.

The letter came, has been duly copied, filed, and fire-proof box secured.

Hallelujah! There was a light at the end of the tunnel--and it was not an on-coming train.

Everybody, sigh in relief with me.

More More More

Cried the attention whore.

Sorry, but yet again this month, the newsletter arrived and I am astounded (ASS. TOWN. DED.) by the unadulterated whine for money and attention.

This month's included a Treasurer's report for his parish. I'm sorry, but something like that is, to me, PRIVATE. As in, this particular congregation's business--and if need be, the council, committee & bishop's business if things are truly THAT bad. But in general (and I know he's been stomping through the diocese making noises about how little money he and his parish have got) I don't believe that this is information that should be printed and sent out to THE ENTIRE DIOCESE.

To me, it's bad taste and it screams of "Poor, pitiful ME!"

My Sweetie, I'm sure, thinks that my seeing it this way is more a reflection of what I think of this parish priest, and not so much an objective view. I get that. I know that at least on some level, my disgust with this has EVERYTHING to do with who this man is, and not just feeling embarrassed for this congregation who has him.

But, on another level, I can't help be breathe a sigh of relief that I left this parish ages ago, and don't have to feel violated by this man's total lack of social skills. And I don't have to feel embarrassed that he's representing ME anywhere, for any length of time.

Today, I also, coincidentally, got to see what this parish is "encouraging" it's people to do with their tax incentive checks--it seems that they all received envelopes to "tithe" part of that money to the church. Now, I understand the concept of the tithe. But I also know that it is NOBODY's business what you give (or don't give) to your church. AND I know that a tithe is Time, Talent, and Treasure...and it includes ALL charitable giving you do--not just what ol' Father Attention Whore knows about.

It's horribly presumptuous of him. It's also pretty creepy.

Is it any wonder he skeeves me out so much? I don't think so.

Hold Your Breath

My Sweetie talked to the IRS today--yes, a real, live, breathing and thinking person.

It seems that since it wasn't actually INCOME, and we did not (please! do I look like I make a profit at anything?!) actually profit, they could "take it off."

As in, make it go away. As in, it no longer exists. (The money was imaginary, but the stress I've lived is NOT.) And now, this whole thing is banished into nothingness.

While I, personally, believe it's too early to be too jubilant about it, and I'm certainly not counting any chickens (or anything else) until the paper arrives from the IRS stating that it's been removed, I can breath a sigh of relief.

My Sweetie, God love him, has learned something from me--get a full name, and write down as much as you can. He also got the IRS person's ID number.

It's ironic, though. A letter from the IRS set this off, and now, I'm looking forward to a letter from the IRS.

Color me mumplized.

Those Meddling Kids

Part of the whole IRS fiasco, for us, is that my Sweetie did honestly believe (and I did too--silly us) that the worst thing was going to be his credit in the crapper For Ever And A Day. Today, after church, he mentioned "I'd have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for those meddling IRS kids!"

We are finding the humor in it. Today, my Sweetie also asked me what I wanted for Mother's Day and all I could do was laugh. But even so, it's difficult to not have this suck up the whole of our world.

The clock is down 7 days and that means we have 23 days left.

Still getting no where with "professional help." The Booby Hatch may be the only professional help I reaquire soon.

I just hope that, in the end, we can get it settled and that his exwife gets hauled away (or worse.) I'm not holding my breath though.

We can prove that she is responsible for 1/2 the debt. We can prove that she lied to everyone (except Domestic Relations when she wanted child support from her love-child's daddy). But is that enough? Ugh.

The letters I and R and S seem to wig out EVERYONE. Even people who haven't done anything wrong. Geez. How do you justify being this stupid? How do you deal with how embarrassing it is?

Do you know how hard it is to not just curl up in a dark room and concentrate on breathing?

Leprosy

Great. Just great.

I finally found an accountant who will look at what we have, listen to what we're saying, AND give conditional advice.

He says, "You need a lawyer who can help you get the information you have about the debt (and the other party who owes it with you) to the IRS." (We already have what we believe will suffice as legal proof.) And he gives us the name of who he would use.

So, I call them. I wanted to cry. (I didn't even want to cry on Monday, when the letter actually came.)

I understand that the legal secretary is the Gatekeeper. I understand she has a responsibility. I realize that any lawyer is going to be busy. But, to be told then, that "we don't handle that kind of thing. You need to talk to the person who did your taxes that year."

And when I explain (I've already told her who suggested I call them) that I've talked to "my people"(HAH! Do not let their ads fool you--they will deal ONLY with the quickest and easiest way to get it away from them) about it; AND I talked to a specific lawyer who suggested a CPA; AND the CPA I did call before talking to the accountant who recommend their office STILL hasn't returned my call....

Basically, the CPAs/accountants say it's a legal matter and the lawyers say it's a tax matter for the CPAs.

Somebody strap on a set and HELP me. I'll do it my own dammed self, but I have to know where to begin! For fuck's sake, I'll PAY YOU any amount of fucking money. Just HELP me. I know I'm in over my head. I know that I'm paying something, and I'll pay it--I just refuse to pay that nasty exwife bitch's half. It's THAT simple.

Hell, it's not even my fucking debt, and I'm willing to pay it.

I'm to the point where I'm trying to figure out if I qualify as a stupid person for marrying My Sweetie and this unholy problem.

Luckily, my mother was with me, and after I was almost in tears over the most recent lawyer refusal, she suggested I call the accountant back.

He called and left a message for the lawyer (they've worked together before) so he can try to explain that it's more of a legal matter involving taxes than a tax matter.

I'm afraid that part of why they don't want to deal with me is the last name. I swear to God, if it turns out that this is part of it, I'm staying married, but taking back my maiden name straight up.

Flip It

At the close of Day #3 in the IRS drama, we've discovered the humor in it.

We're sick, I know.

Actually, when you think about it, discovering that the IRS wants $14,000 is quite liberating. "How so?" Oh, ye of little faith! Listen up!

It puts everything, and I do mean EVERY. THING. into perspective.

Howler throwing a tantrum? No problem. It costs nothing except a few nerves. (and maybe an eardrum)

Toad being a jerk? No problem. It's just a few extra blood pressure points.

Work problems? No problem. I need the job to pay the IRS, so it's a whole new ballgame how much ankle grabbing I'm willing to agree to.

See? It's a win-win-win.

Oh, and most importantly, we don't have a Citibank Visa, so the enjoyment of the cardboard box we'll all soon be living in will be totally interest free, too.

Howler tantrum: FREE
Toad Jerkdom: FREE
Work: FREE for all (plus appliance boxes)
IRS letter: $14,008 + continuing penalties and interest

Nightmares

No matter who you are, at some point in your life, you feel powerless. Powerless. Children, I imagine, feel this way quite often--the Howler, feels it to the extreme every blessed minute of every day.

I've seen movies that made me very uncomfortable because of the overwhelming powerlessness of the characters in the face of the enemy. Terminator 2 comes to mind--how do you stop a monster that simply will not stop?

In real life, there is very little that frightens me--but I have seen the Enemy, and it's name is IRS.

Understanding the motivations, even having a smidgen of comprehension that it's all legal, does not help the feeling of overwhelming powerlessness.

When the IRS knocks, EVERYONE is afraid. Attorneys and CPAs listen politely until you get to the part where you want their advice (paid? HAH! Keep your money--you're gonna need it! The IRS is gonna take it!)

It's frustrating. There's no place to begin. There's no explainations--and no one wants to offer any. The IRS "Help Line" is a series of "press one now," but even taking consolation in the fact that it's in English, there's no real help there.

The best part? Knowing that if you're lucky, you're gonna get out with your skin (and maybe your firstborn--although, all things considered this past year, I might be willing to trade them...) but no one cares.

Mention the IRS and NO ONE wants to know. Don't ask, don't tell, don't listen! It's like being an entire leper colony.

So, on Day #3 of this particular ordeal, we're still breathing, reeling, and most likely, deluding ourselves into thinking that this will EVER be over.

Infinity

The Toad has yet another job. I'm trying hard to be positive, but I have no faith in him on this. It's sad to say, but it's the truth, and I'm not the kind of person (or mother) to put a happy face on something just because it will make others feel better about my relationship with my son, or my skill/competence as a mother.

We also got a nice shocker today.

Kevin opened the cable bill, and yet again, we got whammied with $72 in charges that we had no idea what they were. Of course, the back of the bill itemized it all, and I must say, that "All Sex Soccermoms" and "Asian Delight 7pac" certainly sound like they'd be worth $11.99 a piece.

So far, his porn fetish has cost ME upwards of $300, and can I take a moment to just say, "WOW." All this porn in my house, and I'm not enjoying one lick of it.

Kevin informed him that the $71.94 would be paid to him by the time he paid the bill--this Friday. Toadwort had to call his grandmother and ask her to lend him the money. Of course, she wanted to know why...and why his mother couldn't lend it to him.We made sure we were listening, and he explained that he hadn't yet fully paid back the previous $267.50, and "it's the principle of the thing."

Kevin was worried that it was going to come 'round and bite us in the ass. I'm fed up with this whole life the boy is living, and I assured Kevin, in no uncertain terms, I was putting a muzzle on the dog and it was NOT going to bite anyone--except perhaps the smelly beast it's been feeding behind our backs.

My mother called us back about 20 minutes later. She was fine about it--as far as she goes, anyway. She was curious as to how the Toad managed to find a way 'round the block we put up. (He discovered that Virtual Adult channels are not blocked. Lucky us! We found out so cheaply!)

Anyway, Grammy is going to cover his ass--and I'll be waiting with baited breath to see if she really does bust his chops for the money to be repaid.

He's a smart boy--he just don't have the common sense God gave a stick.

We'll also be gone for at least 4 days between Christmas and New Years--you can bet your ass the cable will be unhooked and he won't have access to anything, not even PBS. If he wants porn, he's gonna have to go Blockbuster, and they make you pay up front.

Me & Muhammed Ali

I am the Greatest!

I had a box stuffer today. I usually get the liars, tag-switchers, the out-and-out thieves (knows as walk-outs or push-outs) and today, I had my first ever box stuffer.

Guy comes in. He asks where we keep the shop vacs. I tell him. He goes away. He comes back, barely 10 minutes later, carrying this bulky shop vac box. He holds it up over the counter so I can scan the UPC (he already knows where it is). I scan it, then move to deactivate the security strip.

I stand the box up on the counter. It seems heavy, but, in all honesty, the tension in my shoulders makes everything seem heavy, so I just look over the box. (I think this *Spidey-sense* I have for crooks is a subliminal or subconscious thing). The box has been opened and taped heavily.

Before I can say anything about reopening the box to check that everything that is supposed to be in there is actually in there, he says, "Hey. I have to go get my wallet." and walks out the gate, leaving me with the box.

I begin to open the box. When I spin the box to cut the tape on the other side, it beeps to deactivate again. Hmmmmm. That's unusual, too.

I cut open the top, and instead of a blue and gray shop vac, I see YELLOW with black writing.

Dude is nowhere to be seen.

I pull out the yellow box, and VIOLA! there are two more of the same in the box.

Dude ain't coming back.

I saved $1257 - $59.97 in merchandise. (The cost of the rotary self-levels totals $1257--3@ $419 each; the shop vac box rang up at $59.97.)

At a reward of 10% of the stop, that's roughly $120 for me if it's verified and approved as good.

Yee haw! The next highest stop I had was 3 years ago (2 chainsaws) for $999 total. And that was a walk-out.

I made the calls; I wrote the details. Management (Frodo & Useless) verified. Information is left for the LP who will do a reverification and write up the info to send on to the Powers That Be.

I am the Greatest! (and I hate thieves!) I also got 2 hi-5s and several pats on the back.

Add that to the fact that I got a haircut a week ago, and every body seemed to notice today.

It was the best day I've had in a long, long time.

I am NOT Cheap!

I may be easy, though. You'd have to ask around 'bout that, though. I'm not admitting nuttin'!

Seriously, I found this at Lords of the Manor, followed through to beingfrugal.net , and thought, I can DO that--you know, tell the difference between cheap and frugal. So here we are.

Here's what I'm discussing (because everyone else is too):

Re-using plastic margarine tubs to store leftover food.I don't currently do it myself, in part because when I did, I found it annoying--I still have issues getting the lids of Gladware to match during the holidays (yes, straight from the package). I used to sell Tupperware, and those products still serve my food storage needs just fine, thanks. (I had to pay/earn the kit to begin with, and the butter tubs don't stack well in the cupboard with the T-ware; they're also 100% guaranteed and replaceable). Besides, some fool keeps bringing Miracle Whip to my house in small butter tubs, and since I can't see what's in it, I've ruined many-a toasted cheese thinking it was butter. Like I said, annoying, but not cheap if it's your thing, and you don't haul it to my house.

Taking extra ketchup packets from a restaurant, so you don’t have to buy ketchup for home.
This is just cheap. If you end up with too many in your bag, that's one thing. But taking them just to save the cost of buying ketchup? Cheap cheap cheap.

Taking an old rocking chair out of a dumpster to re-finish for use in your home.
I don't do dumpster diving, because it's creepy, and while I'm not a germophobe I do think that it's going through someone else's garbage--and that's not an adventure, it's just icky. Garbage Pickin' though, is a sport in Western PA, and picking up something curbside that someone else has obviously discarded, IF I can use it, is okay. Bleach and Lysol are easily available. In our area, people will knowingly leave things at the curb, unbagged, in hopes that someone else can use it, saving the cost of a classifieds ad (and the ensuing weirdness that always shows up with the words "FREE" in said ad). Qualifies as smart AND frugal in my neck o' de woods.

Re-gifting a wedding present.
I did it with baby gifts too. Duplicates, not-our-thing, whatever. Pass it along--and everybody's happy. If it makes me cheap, so be it, but I honestly believe that if it isn't used, it can be gift wrapped and passed along. I buy a lot of gifts for various occasions from the clearance racks too. Only person to complain ain't getting gifts no more.

Leaving no tip for a waitress, because you can’t afford to tip.
Mr. Pink, I am not. If I can't tip, I don't go. Even if the service sucked, the waitress is still earning less than minimum and has to make up her wages in tips, and sometimes I have a bad day too, and my customer service skills suffer. Deal with it, and accept that someone else is doing the dishes tonight. A few more bucks isn't going to make-or-break the bank if you can afford to eat out.

Serving leftovers when you have people over for dinner.
Uh, cheap. Unless it's what I planned anyway and someone drops by and is invited to stay, make the meal. (Frozen entrees do not count as home cooked, either, no matter what the Gator says.)

Shopping at Goodwill for your children’s clothes, when you can afford to buy brand new.
Yard sales, Goodwill, clearance racks. It's frugal. If you have the time and patience, it's worth it. For myself, though, Goodwill smells bad, and is usually staffed by some of the grumpiest people on the planet. No thanks.

Asking family members to chip in for Thanksgiving Dinner.
Unless everyone is contributing their *specialty dish* or someone offers to cough up the turkey, it is cheap (and ranks right down there with inviting people over for leftovers). Of course, in certain cases, such as my one aunt, it's better to decline any offers of *chipping in* and just tell her we don't need anything and pray she's on time!

Buying a second-hand carseat.
I may be lacking in some parenting areas, but skimping on a carseat is like giving your toddler a fork and asking him to find something to do with it--it's dangerous and stupid. Unless I personally know the history of this car seat, my child will not be in it--no matter what it looks like, or how much it's original retail cost. I offended more than one relative in stating the obvious; they got over it. My precious cargo's safety in your minivan is way more important than your cheap ass.

Buying only loss leaders when you go shopping.
Unfortunatly, I'm not entirely clear on what you mean by loss leaders. If you mean buying popsicles in abundance when they are on sale, then yes, we do that. But if it's a name brand and the off-brand is loaded with salt and fillers, the answer is I buy the name brand. If it's something that we use and is storageable, then we buy it in abundance (10 for $10 is terrific when we're talking about spaghetti sauce or canned veggies--especially the low sodium brand name). If I'm shopping the sales flyer, using my club card, and coupons, I can save almost 1/2 my grocery money for more important things, like that car seat.

Picking tomatoes from your neighbor’s garden when it’s apparent they have far more than one family could use.
Apparent to whom? We had a plethora of tomatoes and peppers. We offered them to family, friends, neighbors, unsuspecting passersby...and still froze or canned many a veggie for later. We still had more than we could use. BUT if someone I didn't invite to help themselves was in my yard, digging through my garden, I'd be more than a little pissed. It's not frugal, it's not cheap--IT'S STEALING. Period.

So, what are your skills, Napoleon?

Whatever I want them to be, GOSH!

I am not an incompetent person. But the fact is, balancing and maintaining a checkbook seems to be beyond my skills.

Oh, I can do math. I can add, subtract, reason, and occasionally, calculate. But it seems to be beyond my skills to balance and maintain that sucker. Even when I try, even when I seemingly succeed. It's all a sham. The Checkbook Karma Gods are out to get me.

I am now in the position of having to trust my husband with that last great vulnerabilty--allowing him to help me, habitually and regularly, balance and maintain my checkbook.

It's hard for me, in part, because it's the last great vestige of control issues I have--it has come to symbolize, for me, my last stronghold of total and complete (albeit abortive) autonomy. How pathetic is that? I'd almost rather pay the fees imposed when I fail (amounts to between $60-$100 yearly) than allow this man, whom I love and trust, to balance the damned thing on a regular basis.

I worry that he will nag me. I worry that he will judge me. This is a man who doesn't judge and only occasionally nags. This is a man who loves me, cares for me, and trusts me. And I can't bear the thought that he will have weekly (at least) access to my checkbook.

Man, the Nutguy was right--nobody in their right mind would touch my control issues.

Trouble, Right Here In Mumple City

Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble Trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble trouble ....

That starts with "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for


PORN.

Everybody sigh and get it out of the way.

I am not a Puritan, and I am, by no means, a prude. I love a dirty joke and I am not interested, personally, in porn. Been there, looked at it, got over it.

I also, for the record, do not think that if grown, consenting adults want to look at pictures of nekkid consenting adults they don't know (or maybe they do--not judging here), I don't care. (I'm not talking about the more perverse things in the genre, and I'm not talking about addicts of any nature, so just keep your head from spinning.)

Even being relatively open and honest, sincere yet unabashed attitudes about sex, I am astounded (and frustrated, and angry) to discover that the 18 year old Toad spend the bigger part of May, all of June and at least 1/4 of July ordering Pay-Per-View porn when we weren't home.

We now know why he was spending so much time in the livingroom.

The problems I have with this are as follows:

• He didn't have a job to pay for his viewing pleasure (ewwwww)
• He is only now awaiting a start date on a job
• He was, at the time he was spending this non-existant money, not even looking for a job to pay for his viewing pleasure
• If he had ASKED, we would've found him a way to have his viewing pleasure without costing me the if I'm lucky it's only $200

I have concluded, this weekend, that he has judiciously waited until he turned 18 to begin all these nasty, petty, EXPENSIVE little rebellions.

It's a lot of money to be pissing through in just 6 months (and these are just the big ones):

• Damage to the Beast: $100
• Insurance for the Beast: $600
• Cable Pay-Per-View: $200 (?)

If he'd have pulled this crap over the course of two or three years, I could almost not be mad enough to spit nickels. But since he's pulling it all in just a few months, I will soon be faced with having to choose to pay for his idiocy or make my car payment (my payments aren't that high, either).

I want to hit him, frequently, and with much power. But I can't afford to do that--or I'd have to pay to have someone stitch him back together, too.

Nothing Costs $100

So, the Toad did something to the Beast.

We're not sure what, exactly, as he's not speaking up. He was driving it for at least several days with it "dog tracking" down the road. How he managed to stay in his lane is beyond us. He claims he hit "nothing" and that it must be something with the power steering.

Apparently, he thought that, much like a Borg ship, it would self-repair and self-correct.

The Idiot. Anyone who has driven anything would be able to tell there was something seriously messed up on this car. Anyone who had previously driven this car could tell there was something messed up on this car.

The rear passenger side wheel was, to use the technical term, WONKY. Absolutely at an angle that is not normal for a tire on a safely functioning car. There was a chunk of the aluminum wheel gone.

When Kevin got underneath it, he could see scrapes and dings--with no dirt or rust. No way this happened weeks ago.

The boy is still saying, "It must've been when I spun out." and "I thought it was the power steering." As if, between self-proclaimed Car Guy Stepdad Kevin and myself, we're total morons. Does he think we're Amish and have never driven a car?

Anyway, a new, matching aluminum wheel cost $50 and the alignment cost $47.95. AND we may have to take it to a body shop to get the body straightened out. It depends on how it drives--like we trust the Toad's assessment at this point.

The Toad is rather surprised at how much we DO actually know about what he did, and he's more surprised about the cost. Self-repair isn't as cheap as he thought, I expect.

My frustration level is at it's limit. Perhaps, if he were a true idiot-savant, and not just playing one on TV, I'd be less angry and frustrated. He doesn't have the common sense God gave a goat, and he seems to think that this is somehow my fault.

During the first conversation I had with him about the damage to the Beast, he implied that, because he's 18 and has only had his license a month, somehow I was missing the point. He got pissy because, apparently, I've been through all this before, and he hasn't. He is under the impression that he has older brothers and sisters that I have parented and raised, but have never met.

I can honestly say that as much as I believe it totally sucks sideways to be a teenager, I can say that it sucks worse to be the parent of one.

Whiner

What kind of person COMPLAINS to your face about the Christmas and birthday gifts you give them. Okay, not to your face--but loudly, in front of their in laws and your own family?

Yeah. And, that same person is still complaining, weeks later, about how I buy things on clearance and on sale. As if, the thought means nothing, and the fact that he got stuff he can use.

It cost me $12.62 to shut him up.

Today, he was complaining (I was at work, he was in) about how I should have bought him "something he could use, like those space heaters over there on clearance." Yap Yap Yap.

I bought one when I got off work and took it to his house.

He was sheepish.

I hope he drops it on his foot, so he can complain how I tried to break his toe, instead of about how cheap I am.

The Beast

There's a reason I do not like that car.

First, it was Kevin's car. He drove it, so it was totally his choice. Fine. I can live with that, as long as I don't have to drive it much.

So I don't.

Then, Kevin buys a truck (before you get all excited thinking that I have lots of money, we've had the car 3 years, and it's paid off). We decide that since the Toad is getting his driver's license, and we said we'd buy him a car, we'll give him this car instead. Toadwort likes that idea--he wanted that car anyway, and any other car we attempt to buy him will cost us what this one is worth... either the car itself will cost that much, or keeping the new heap on the road will.

I continue to happily drive my van, except for a few occasions, the most memorable of which I've already reported here.

So, in a continuing effort to give the Toad driving time, I take him to work in *his* car, so he can drive. Joy. I am slowly coming to hate the Beast.

Why?

We've been keeping in my neighbor's garage. She doesn't have a car and doesn't drive, so she's totally fine with that.

So, Toad goes to work. I drive home.

The problem? The garage is situated such that it's best to back in to park.

I hate backing the Beast up more than I hate driving it. I voice my concerns to Kevin, and he, being the epitome of quick thought and correct memory, tells me, "Back it up. Don't be a sissy."

I pull into the driveway. I pull ahead, then commence backing up procedures.

I hit the freaking house! (Did I mention that it's an attached garage?) Luckily, I didn't damage the house.

Toad driving: $45 permit
Toad car: $3500
Mom backing Toad car into house: $45 damage
Kevin having a good laugh at my expense: PRICELESS