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Posts Tagged ‘Money’

Me in 5 Years?

I actually picked up 20p off the floor today. It’s come to that.

Before you judge me, let it be known I gave it a hand sanitiser bath before popping it into my purse next to that losing lottery ticket I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw away.

Who knew you can’t get a loan for a Masters? Not me. Hats off to NatWest really for allowing me an overdraft the size of Brazil. Not that I’m worried about it or anything, I love a good challenge, and digging my self out of that one, is going to be just that.

I remember earning some money somewhere along the way, but since the only thing I ever invested in was my feet, we’re back to square one. My maths is rusty at best, so correct me if I’m wrong, but with the help of my blackberry’s calculator I worked out that over the years, I’ve spent approximately £3000 on shoes.

My next pair perhaps?

Now, I didn’t want to have to whip out the finger of blame, but I’m convinced that my parents have been encouraging this unfortunate obsession on the basis that without savings I’d be forced to live with them until the age of 35.

To any other culture this would seem an inprobable explanation, but us Greeks like our kids where we can see them. Where we can ensure they are eating four square meals a day, and only bringing home acceptable suitors (wealthy bankers who grown their own tomato plants and are in possession of a stereotypically Mediterranean  long baby finger nail).

“Love grows” my Grandma tells me, “what you need is stability”. They may as well give up this pretence of happiness altogether and nudge me down the aisle, to Abba’s Money Money Money proving my fellow students right once and for all.

I should elaborate. Way back when in sixth form, I had been voted “Most Likely To Marry For Money”. I personally don’t know where they got such an idea.

Yes I’d like to be rich, who wouldn’t? (Walk in wardrobe’s don’t build themselves you know). And yes it’s probably going to take me a while (because as I’ve discovered, working in the media industry involves a lot of working for free). And okay, if I were the “sleep your way to the top” type of girl I’d probably get there a lot faster. But damn it my morals are always getting in the way of an easy life.

So until success busts a groove over to my ends, London keep dropping those 20p’s and I’ll keep picking them up. And one day, when I can spare them, perhaps I’ll drop a few back.

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Number one: do not insert your penis into any other area of any other woman. It does not matter how substantial your excuse may be, forgiveness is out of the question. Some women are insecure enough to stand by you despite your penal misdirection, but they’ll never truly forgive you.

I mean feel free to give it your best shot, and get real creative with the excuses; but it still won’t be good enough. Someone spiked your orange juice with Viagra and then you tripped over your pants and fell into her? Yawn. Better yet, you had an incurable disease and she was the only cure. I’m just not interested, and neither will she be.

Number two: Don’t always give her what she wants. Didn’t expect that one did you? Well I’m admitting that us women can be a bit of a handful, but that doesn’t mean you can’t put us back in our place (and no I’m not referring to the kitchen). Someone telling me to sit down and stop being so bloody annoying: kind of a turn on. After all, if I wanted a doormat I’d go to B&Q.

Alternatively some ladies demand a lot of presents (usually an after effect of the daddy’s girl syndrome) and while there’s nothing wrong with wanting, they should also become familiarised with the word ‘no’.  Eventually you’re going to have to decipher whom she’s planning on getting serious with: you or your credit card. And if it is the credit card, then you need to tell her to unhand the Prada and get a Saturday job.

Other girls demand a lot of time. Remember those guys you used to watch Top Gear with, the ones who used to kick your butt at Call of Duty, the ones who you’d watch every Spurs match of the season with? You know… your friends. Well they are unimpressed with the fact that every Friday night you now abandon them to be with your subsequent lover, feeding each other grapes, or whatever it is people in relationships do these days. And they will remain unimpressed four months down the line when you’ve broken up with your ball and chain and want someone to drown your sorrows with.

Number three: Don’t tell her you love her, unless you happen to mean it. Not being fully acquainted with the emotion myself, I’ll keep the advice giving at a minimum. Every girl wants to be told they’re loved. No girl wants to be told she’s loved only to find out three weeks later that what you actually loved was the fact she makes a killer hot-pot and bends like a pretzel.

Print this out if you have to, tattoo it to your foot, anything you like: stick to this guide and the chances of your past lovers torturing a miniature-voodoo-you on a weekly basis in hopes you’ll fall down the stairs and break both your arms will be significantly reduced. As the meerkat would say… simples.

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You-Topia

Inspired by blogger Simon Francis and his one-man attempt to cut spending, I have decided we could all do with a little life minimisation. Did I need my £1.55 hazelnut cappuccino this morning? I’m going to say no.

I have taken it upon myself, in the midst of this crisis to play the role of teacher, and guide you through this wallet-draining time.

If the government can cut their spending by 40% then so can we.

Consider your house is your own individual country, with it’s own population and necessary expenses. To this country: ‘You-topia’, you are the Prime Minister, the Chancellor of the Exchequer and also John Smith, the hardworking civilian in fear of his livelihood.

You-topian cuts to Housing:
Antibacterial wipes, scented candles, air freshener, comfort, dishwasher tablets – forget about it. Allow me to introduce you to soap and water: acquaint yourselves; they are your new money-saving best friends.

You-topian cuts to food:
Stand up, walk to your fridge, pull out your loaf of Hovis (which as of your next week you will be replacing with Asda’s own brand), grab a jar of peanut butter, and spread spread spread. Now, allow me to introduce you to your lunch.

You-topian cuts to pensions:
Money now over money later: you know how you frivolously saved all your pennies in a large cola-shaped moneybox for a rainy day? Well winter’s here and you need a new umbrella. Stop hoarding your money; this is now your weekly supermarket fund. No point saving for the future, if you can’t financially survive the present.

You-topian cuts to Child benefits:
Durex, Trojan, LifeStyles, PleasurePlus: Safe sex is cheaper than buying a pram.

You-topian cuts to Public Spending:
Ladies: I understand the importance of a Cosmopolitan on a Friday night, but the current economy has no room for this kind of spending. Instead I propose you invest in a low cut top.

If America buys England a space shuttle, it won’t effect English spending, right? Well in this case, America is a wealthy businessman, and the space shuttle is a dirty martini.

Gentlemen: Remember the days where your inability to cook was easily compensated with three course meal at your local Chinese? Well they’re not over yet. Look down at your resent call log, Tom, Dick, Harry: your friend’s are now your meal ticket. Dinnertime is always the perfect hour for a casual visit.

As a once poor and hungry student, I can assure you this feeding-method has been personally trailed and marked a success. Statistically, 9/10 they’ll be setting you a place at the table and piling the Korma on your plate. Hunger averted.

Within one month of You-topian policies being implemented, financial situation of your country should be at a point of improvement. If suggested cuts fail to improve long-term economic situation, drastic measures must be taken into consideration and deportation of your countries residents should be given serious thought.

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Gentleman’s Tip.

The first date paying war is what deciphers the boys from the men. My theory is pretty basic: you ask a girl out to dinner, you pay. You ask her out again: you pay. Third date: again you pay. After that all bets are off.

Don’t get me wrong, this is the twenty-first century and the clutch bags that were once filled with Audrey Hepburn type cigarette filters and breath mints now also home a family of girls true best friends… gold, platinum, visa, debit credit. And if at the end of each date the girl doesn’t pull out a few twenties and insist on paying her half, next time leave her at the kerb. I’m not saying she’s not the kind of girl you’ll ever marry; I’m just saying she’ll be walking down the aisle to Kanye West’s Gold-Digger.

The truth of the matter is, whilst us ladies like to pretend we are products of a modern society in which we are your equals, when it comes down to it, we want to feel special. I’m not talking about lavish spending sprees in Gucci; let me be clear, I’m talking about popcorn buying here. Don’t like it… then accept you’ll always be known as Mr. Nice-but-cheap. And when it doesn’t work out, that is how you will forever be remembered.

Despite my apparently blunt delivery of the truth (or at least, what I believe to be the truth) I understand that if you’re not a middle-aged businessman sometimes money can be a bit of an issue. So I’m going to let you in on a little secret. As long as the company’s good we don’t really care where you take us.

This isn’t a green light to take your lady of choice for a spin around McDonald’s drive through and end the night with a happy meal.

All I’m saying is, if a girl winds up at a beautiful restaurant having a lavish three-course meal with a man whose only conversational topic is golf, then the chances are she’ll contemplate accidentally impaling herself on the steak knife just to have an excuse to leave. The date in Starbuck’s involving a £4.99 coffee and muffin with the guy who makes her laugh is a much more likely winner.

Of course every woman is different, and the occasional ultra-feminist will probably find your bid to pay patronizing as opposed to gentlemanly. Though before this frightens you into leaving your wallet at home, I have some comforting news. I have never heard of a woman refusing a second date because the guy tried to pay for her white-wine-spritzer. Don’t offer and I guarantee that it will go straight to your ‘cons’ column, which she’s been constructing in her head all night.

Be it the next day, or two more dates later, either way I guarantee you will eventually be receiving a very awkward message about being busy with work and unable to find time for a relationship. Don’t believe me? Give it a go.

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