01.22.13

(Not a) Monday Dare (but I can explain): No sir, I don’t care about my safety

dollaz

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link to see the complete list of Monday Dares or to learn more about its origin.

This week: Schedule a car tune-up

I’ve suspected for some time now that I’m not a good driver or a responsible car owner. “Oh, Elizabeth, it’s probably because you’re an Asian lady,” you might say. That really offends me. LADY? How so? I already told you- I only wore the matching merino wool cardigan set with the jeweled collar and contrast stitching detail that ONE time because my Tupac vs. Biggie shirt was in the wash. Let it go.

I had to put a price tag on my personal safety yesterday. Not that Life is precious and priceless bullshit, but a real dollar amount value. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I decided my life was most certainly not worth the price of four new car tires.

As I was packing up my car after a Homegirls Buffets and Bling weekend trip, I noticed my front left tire seemed a little flat. I took a minute to congratulate myself for noticing and texted Harv so that he could also revel in my hyper-awareness. He didn’t say “Good job!” or “Sharp eyes!” or anything, which really hurt my feelings. Instead, he asked if I had already called AAA and reminded me to stayed inside my vehicle if I was on the side of the road. Clearly, he was focused on the wrong things, but I let him have it. Sometimes it’s just better to let people think what they want because they’ll never be able to grasp the gravity of a situation.

After the AAA mechanic inspected the tire and assured me that I just had low air, he suggested I roll by a tire shop before making the 300-mile drive home. When I hesitated, he launched into a passionate monologue. It might have been about safety. The only words that really stood out were “free inspection.” He should have started with that. I like free.

When the tire shop technician brought in two of my tires with a grim face, I braced myself for bad news. He said that both tires were worn dangerously low and were now unsafe, but one was worse than the other.

Me: Just give me one new tire.
Tech: I wouldn’t recommend it. The walls are separating. It’s dangerous. You need to get all four replaced.
Me: Sheesh. All four? What is that? Like, $100?
Tech: They’re $300 dollars. Each. $350 if you want the better ones.
Me: I don’t care about my safety then. Just replace the worst one.

It seemed like a solid decision, but after texting pictures of the supposedly worn tires to a few car fanatic friends and getting responses like “That’s an accident waiting to happen” and “You don’t deserve a car. You’re totally not responsible enough,” I reconsidered.

Now that I know my life is worth at least $1,200, I think about myself differently. Instead of writing a Monday Dare yesterday, I spent the evening making “I’m really expensive. Handle with care.” lapel pins for myself. Thank you for understanding.

Ever had to spend a shitload on car repairs? Or made an unsafe decision just to save money?

I waste a lot of time on Facebook and Instagram (username: flourishinprogress). Join me. Let’s be unproductive together.
image via blueq.com

January 22, 2013
01.07.13

Monday Dare: That couch is NOT for sitting

blinghouse

Every week, I challenge myself to a Monday Dare. Click on the link to see the complete list of Monday Dares or to learn more about its origin.

This week: Get comfortable

My dad worked as a mechanic for the U.S. Postal Service when I was a kid. His job came with a few advantages. It saved me from walking 30 or so feet down the driveway to mail a letter. Now that I’m thinking about it, this probably exacerbated my innate desire to be the laziest 8-year-old to ever roam the face of this planet (Hey, if you’re going to do something, go for it all the way, I say).

On occasion, he would save magazines that were deemed “Undeliverable” and bring them home for us kids. I always requested home design magazines. I clipped out pictures of beautiful things and articles on How To Make Your Home Feel Lived In But Still Look Perfect Even Though You Got A Tight-Ass Budget And Some Stupid-Ass Kids Who Put Their Grimy-Ass Hands Everywhere And I Fucking Mean Everywhere.

I would spend hours cutting out pictures and then taping the front and back of each picture with rows of Scotch Tape. I would double tape the areas with small gaps, making the picture harder to see, but I wanted my pictures to stay protected so I could use them as references when I became a Katrillionaire Adult. I asked for a laminator, but my parents always had some bullshit excuse about not spending on unnecessary luxuries. It was during one of these NO‘s that I quietly decided I would never invite my parents over to my Teal Palace to admire my semi-circle headboards or Laura Ashley comforters.

It’s a shame that all of those hours clipping and taping didn’t actually cultivate a keen eye for design or functionality. That BLING nook looks pretty cozy, amirite? Too bad no one can sit in that chair without knocking into the sloped wall. Yeah, I tried pulling the chair out already. I promptly tripped over one of the legs and almost lost my front teeth. I’ve still got braces on for another year. Think about how much my orthodontist would hate me. “What the fuck, Elizabeth, I can tell THESE ARE CHICLETS.”

I finally fulfilled my childhood wish of owning a white sectional. It doesn’t have a La-Z-Boy at the end like my home-laminated picture, but it’s white. I wish I could tell you more about it, but you know how it is: You buy a white couch and suddenly, you tell your family that it’s better to sit on the stone floor because “something about spinal alignment,” and then you don’t sit on it either, because you want to have a straight and healthy spine too. One time, you accidentally brush against the corner while wearing dark-rinse denim, and you immediately fall to the floor with your arms raised, asking the Universe to turn back time just 7 seconds, to that moment before the lily white fabric absorbed any of the deep blue pigment. You cry about it a lot that day. A little less the next day. In a month’s time, you feel okay. Not perfect, just…okay.

Life is for living. Couches are for sitting. Wow, that’s really beautiful. And I just made that up right now, too. I want to live comfortably in my home. I want to put my grimy-ass hands everywhere, and I fucking mean everywhere.

Any decorating disasters or regrets? Ever sullied something in your home that you love?

BLING pic: Another sad moment captured on Instagram (username: flourishinprogress)

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tag

Speaking of wasting time…In my quest to be as unproductive as possible, I spent 45 minutes making this tag + miniature hanger for Harv’s Valentine’s Day Swag. THUG WIFE. THUG LIFE.

January 7, 2013