Oh man! I defaulted on my student loans, and now I owe $555,000! I'm a dickhead!

Holy good God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Allah, and Kwazy Kwansah Karl… I’m am sick and tired of hearing about people with money problems. I read a story today about a doctor with $555, 000 in student loan debt. She says in the article (read here), “Maybe half of it was my fault because I didn’t look at the fine print… But this is just outrageous now.” Are you serious?! Half of a $555,000 debt is your fault, and you still have the fucking nerve to complain? (If you say I’m being a hypocrite, because of the name of my blog, please stop reading this, and immediately stick a fork through your temporal lobe.) You didn’t look at the fine print? And you’re a doctor?! Jesus, you’re the last fucking person I want looking at my tonsils. It would probably take you six fucking weeks to diagnose a headache. I assume it would be OK if I just stopped shitting for like 5 days, came to your office, and told you I have a stomach problem. And then, when I proceeded release my bowels all over your nice sterile floor, I can say, “Well it was only half my fault because you never told me to shit, so now you can’t charge me any money for this visit.”

Has common sense been completely lost on people? Listen, I have debts… debts that I’ve created, and am currently paying off. I have a house to fix up, a wedding to pay for, and random fucking $1200 oil bills. I don’t sit there and complain to a news network about it. You big fucking baby. Maybe it’s not half your fault… maybe it’s ALL YOUR FAULT. Maybe you should have thought about it, before deferring and defaulting on your loans. Maybe you should have reconsidered becoming a doctor in the first place, especially since you seem to be half-retarded.

It’s amazing! All I have to do to get sympathy nowadays is to default on my fucking mortgage for 6 months. Then, I’m a human interest story. How about this instead, asshole who’s underwater on their mortgage? Maybe this will be a revelation to you but–HOW ABOUT YOU DON’T BUY A $500,000 HOUSE, WHEN YOU WORK AT FUCKING BURGER KING?! Holy shit! What an idea! I’m paying for the money mistakes that I’ve made, and I’ve learned from them. If we keep bailing out stupid people, all we’re going to have is a bunch of stupid fucking people, who think that they can just fuck up all they want, and they’ll get saved (which is what is happening right now).

I have an idea. Don’t bail these people out. You lose your house? Next time, don’t buy a house you can’t afford. Lose your car? Learn how to ride a bike. Can’t pay alimony for your 7 kids from 6 different mothers? You. Should. Be. Shot.

And just to clarify, I’m not talking about all people that can’t afford their mortgages… I really do feel for the family that has two kids, where both parents lost their jobs, and can’t find work. That’s a damn shame. But you never hear about those people. You know why? Because they don’t complain. They take whatever life gives to them, and they work with it.

So to all the people who are struggling through these hard times, and not complaining about their situation–God speed. Things will get better.

And for all those people, who are fucking dumb, and who’s main occupation seems to be to complain to whatever media outlet will listen to you–I hope you all die in a fire.

Sweat Shop Owners?

I came home on my lunch break yesterday in a chipper mood, to say the least! Happy happy joy joy! My fiancée and I are cutting back on the spending, eating at home more, and generally, I’m just happier. Then, I decided to check the mail. In much the same way that dipping my scrotum in honey and taunting a bear, naked would be–this proved to be a bad idea. Lo and behold, amid the magazines and junk mail stood (yes stood), a big middle finger to saving money–my oil bill. Somehow, the person who had delivered my oil wants me to believe that we’ve used 369.7 gallons–in one month. My whole fucking neighborhood doesn’t use 370 gallons of oil in a month. Last month we used 180 gallons. This past month, we’ve used the fireplace more and have turned the thermostat down to around 64° F (that’s 18° C, for all my European readers out there) almost every night. So how am I to believe that I’ve used double the amount of oil this month than last?

I’ve come up with a few theories:

1. Our dogs are running a sweat shop out of our house during the day, and need to keep the heat around 85° F when we’re not home to keep all the kids working. I know Jackson. He’s definitely enough of an asshole to run a sweat shop. There are a few things that support this theory. I noticed a tiny megaphone lying on the floor the other day. There was what looked to be a small Asian boy running away from the general direction of our house as I was coming home yesterday. Lastly,  I’ve also started to see boxes of various merchandise in our basement.

2. Our animals (2 dogs, a cat, and a rabbit) are practicing bikram yoga during the day. Things to support this theory? Most of the merchandise I see lying around the house are yoga mats. The small Asian boy might have been their yogi, and the megaphone could have been used for instruction.

3. When they filled up the tank last month, they neglected to tell me that they added a “go-fuck-yourself” valve, which acts as both an oil and money siphon. This would explain a lot.

4. Global Warming. Yea, doesn’t make sense to me either (global warming is bullshit anyway), but everyone seems to be blaming everything on global warming. If this is true, I want my money from Al Gore.

I’m going to call the oil company today, and try to help them understand that I’m not generating electricity or running a plastic toy manufacturing company, so there’s no way that I could have used that much oil. We’ll see what they say.

I’ll keep you posted.

Now that's a safety belt.

There are an increasing number of people that are getting me to believe that a driver’s test should be retaken every other week. There are also an increasing number of people that should be shot have their licenses revoked. I’m coming to the realization that there are four types of drivers. Those that drive well about 98% of the time, with the occasional slip-up. Those that drive well about 75% of the time, but aren’t observant enough. Idiots. And old people. That’s it… 98%, 75%, idiots, and old people. That pretty much sums it all up. Everybody thinks that they’re the 98%, but that’s like discovering you’re related to Jesus… you’re probably not. Most people are the 75%. I’m going to spend the remainder of this post talking about the other two.

Idiots

Idiots are the bane of my existence (in all facets of my life, really). They encompass a large group of drivers. The guy who drives the beat up ’89 Honda Civic with one chrome rim (which, incidentally costs as much as the car itself), who thinks he’s in a Ferrari–and drives as such. Now I’m not one to wish harm on anyone, but I do wish that he’d flip his car 30 or so times take a defensive driving class.

How about the “Helen Keller” driver? The light turned green forty-five seconds ago! And I’ve been beeping for the last forty! You fucking MORON silly goose!

Or the “I have to (insert morning ritual here) in the car, otherwise I won’t get to work on time” driver. News flash… No one cares. Believe me. As proof that no one cares tomorrow morning don’t shave, put on make-up, eat, etc. See if anyone says a goddamn word to you. If they do, feel free to tell me, and I will then not care more.

Last, but certainly not least–my favorite, the “four-foot-nine-inch tall woman in a GIGANTIC FUCKING SUV” driver. I have to be honest with you. It’s new to me to see all of these 5 foot tall women, who transport heavy machinery. I’ve never seen that before. They do transport heavy machinery, don’t they? I’d assume that’s the only reason you need the Cadillac Escalade ESV, right? To transport back-hoes, bulldozers, and such? Surely, it’s not just to go food shopping? And then to pick up little Timmy, and his 3 friends from soccer practice? Because, well, that’d just be silly. How could you see over the steering wheel? How could you possibly judge distances, with your stature? How could you possibly know that there’s a car next to you when you change lanes? Exactly.

Old People

Don’t get me wrong–I love elderly people. I just don’t love being in a car next to their Mercury Grand Marquis. Old Pappy just doesn’t have to reflexes that he once did to, you know, pay attention to anything. I’m very lenient with older folks when I’m driving. I tend to not yell as much, because I understand that they’re old. Heck, you’re going to have to pry my license from my cold dead hands.

Speaking old people, I remember this one story my parents told me about my grandmother (God rest her soul)… When she was around 75 or so years old (I was around 3), she went out to a New Year’s Eve party. She drove, of course (a ’77 Dodge Dart, aka ‘The Tank’). She came home, with this guy following her in his car. She starting banging on my parents apartment door (we lived upstairs from her at the time), screaming about this guy who was going to kill her! Naturally, my dad came outside to see what the problem was.  Standing there was this Jamaican guy with this ridiculously banged up ’83 Toyota Tercel, and my grandmother–drunk as Ted Kennedy on a bridge. Long story short, the guy was trying to say that my grandmother hit his car, and he wanted $500 for the damages. My dad told him to go to hell. There really was no point to this story in the context of my post, but my grandmother was a ridiculously awesome person, and you are now better for having heard a story about her.