Credit Cards and Stamps

Hello!! I am SO happy when I start to write and share things and I have shit to actually talk about. I would like to start by saying that I am developing some habits that make me chuckle. The first one is more recent, which deals with credit card readers. Most people who use them know that you slide your card, and then it flashes some text, and you sign your name. A lot of people also know that you can usually fake your signature and the reader will accept it. Now first, I want to say that people with low self-esteem need those machines. A swipe of the card and instant approval? Shit yeah, that's awesome! 

Imagine little Timmy Toddwell (not to be associated with Tod-d), who grew up to disappoint his parents. Maybe they wanted a scientist and he was an artist. Or they wanted and artist and he became a scientist. Or they wanted a scientist and he went into botany. I don't know, the point is that Timmy's parents think he's a fuck up. But suddenly, Timmy gets a credit card. And Timmy goes to Walmart, and uses that credit card. Suddenly Timmy has a shit-tonne of candy/soda/cheap-ass furniture, $2500 of debt, and a metric fuck-tonne of self-esteem from being approved. And you know what? Good for Timmy. He just destroyed is Credit Score, but that sugar-high son-of-a-bitch is going to have the nicest bed under that bridge. Assuming Timmy learned how to cultivate poisonous plants to fight off the other hobos, Timmy is going to be sleeping good!

(This isn't Timmy, but the sign is pretty funny. Amazing what you can find in a Google Search)

Now why did I start talking about credit card machines? I'll tell you. Have you ever noticed that the little message that flashes says, "I agree to....." followed by "blah-blah-blah" followed by "Signature:______". Well I have started to sign the screen "NO". Do you know why? Because I do not agree to pay for the shit I buy. I want it for free. Why? Because I'm broke as fuck. I have money for bills and food and that's it. And guess what? My wife still doesn't pay for date night, despite having made it rain in my face. And guess what? I eat a shit-tonne of food. When you eat 5 lbs (2.5-ish kg) of chicken per week, you spend a lot of money on food. Add in date night? Hell no, I don't agree to pay for shit anymore. And do you know the joke? I still end up paying for it. I just look forward to the day I find out that I can use my trick to actually get all my money back. Will it happen? No. Do I hope it will? Yes. That's it.

(This would last me for one week. That's it. Again, I eat a lot. Fuck you, don't judge me) 

On a separate note, I have been putting my stamps on envelopes upside-down for the past six years. Now you might say, "Why, why would you do that?" Or, you might say, "Who the fuck cares?" Well I do. Because here, the stamps have flags. And everyone knows that an upside-down flag is a distress signal. And so I started a little experiment to see if anyone would pick up on the upside down flag. I mean, if I were to be held hostage, that may be the only way that I would be able to escape. I secretly hope that the U.S. Postal Service will one day break down my door, thinking that I am a battered woman held captive by her dickweed husband. Why? Because that would mean that people being held captive have a hope for escape. Also, it would mean that the U.S. Postal Service would pay for my new front door. Do I need a new front door? Well I would if they broke mine down, now wouldn't I?

Moral of the Story: Timmy has a great bed for being homeless, and the U.S. Postal Service owes me a new door someday.