The calls about the bed stopped in November 2010, and now the chair is paid off; I own it free and clear. I’m also proud to say that since the time this whole fiasco started I’ve only bought ONE thing at Sears (it was a $140 Paderno Wok that was marked down to $29.99 I CAN’T RESIST A DEAL LIKE THAT). I avoid Sears like the plague when I’m in a mall now.

Initially, I swore up and down backwards and forwards that once that final payment was made, I would cut up the card and cancel the account. However, since I’ve started reading personal finance books like a madwoman, I’ve decided to keep the card because I’ve had it since 2008 and have a great payment record. Cancelling that card would delete a portion of my (pristine) credit history and I’d like to keep that intact. I would not be surprised in the least if they charge an inactivity fee, so if that is the case then I will cancel the card.

One thing is for sure though, I am never shopping at Sears again.

The commercial I’m specifically thinking of is the one for a dog food brand called Buffalo Blue. The commercial opens with a group of women in a dog training class detailing the horror of checking the first ingredient in their dog’s food. Corn gluten, one sniffs. Chicken byproduct meal, says another, while rolling her eyes. The trainer tells them, Oh, you have to check to make sure you really know what you’re feeding your dog, implying that these women are clearly substandard pet owners because of their pet food choice (despite the fact that they’ve invested time and money into a training class. But I digress). Caesar has a similar commercial, where a woman and her dog, Maggie, seek out the best ingredients at a farmers market (she uses the phrase “We ask Joe about the best bread” which really, bitch, I would like to know how your dog participates in asking Joe about his bread and how fresh it is) and she only serves Maggie the best because she deserves the best. Cut to the shot of the Caesar food being served to Maggie and it looks a hell of a lot better than the cereal I ate for dinner last night. It has PASTA in it. BOW TIE FUCKING PASTA.

What. The. Fuck.

I’m all for making sure your dog eats nutritiously and never goes hungry but fuck me, do we really need to buy into this “only the best for my dog” entitlement bullshit? Is there some kind of dog food hierarchy in the dog park, where one can tell by the shite of another one how low-grade its food is and subsequently shun it? No. Is there a secret hierarchy among dog owners who turn their noses down at another owner who feeds their dog kibble made with *GASP* chicken byproduct meal? No.

Your dog is a dog. It does not care how you feed it, it cares how you love it. It cares that you put a roof over its head, take it for a walk, and give it belly rubs on the regular. Dogs do not have high standards. They eat other animals’ shit (nothing says “stay the fuck away from me” like horfing down some cat poo from the litter box and running downstairs for a cuddle. Thanks Dave). It is not a status symbol to spend more on your dog’s food per meal than you do on yours. It is a sign of insanity. If you can afford to feed your dog 12oz of kobe beef-fed lobster each night and you do, then you’ve got problems. I suspect this whole “movement” stems from the special little snowflake generation’s belief that they “deserve” the best (despite having done little or nothing to earn the best), and so do their dogs.

Feed your dog, but ignore the hype. Your dog (and wallet) will thank you when you do.

So, when I tell you that I decided to make salmon cakes from a book called “Best Recipes Ever”, you’re probably going to laugh.

My grandmother passed away when I was ten. She wasn’t a very nice person, and I don’t have many memories of her, but what does stick out is that she used to feed her cats tinned tuna. To this day, whenever I smell it, it reminds me of her house and it has a negative connotation because of the whole “massive cow” aspect of her personality. If my parents were having tuna sandwiches, my mom would make me something else (this was the only exception to the “I’m not a short order cook” rule). Tuna is icky to me, and I’m not sure I’ve ever had it outside of the occasional ahi tuna appetizer, and even then it’s dicey for me.

ANYWAY.

So yesterday, I decided to make salmon cakes for dinner, accompanied by a salad with a ginger sesame dressing and some leftover sriracha chicken strips. Classy, right? I was looking forward to it. Little did I know it would end up requiring not only a blog post, but the “culinary disastuh” tag. Sigh.

I mentioned my grand fancy pants plan to a coworker, and luckily, she asked me if I’d ever bought canned fish before. I informed her that I had not, but after a lengthy phone conversation in the canned fish aisle of the grocery store with my mother a few days before, I’d purchased myself some sockeye salmon for my salmon cakes. The wise coworker asked me if I got boneless and skinless salmon. A-SCUSE-ME? Being a canned fish noob, I clearly had no idea that fish trapped in a can would have bones and skin on it AND that I would have to PHYSICALLY REMOVE this filth before I made my beloved cakes. I was in trouble.

I got home and checked my salmon tin. No mention of a lack of bones or skin. Not a good way to start off the fancy pants meal. But, being a seasoned remover of turkey giblets and such, I figured I could handle it. How bad could it be? It’s just a few bones, right?

IT WAS BAD. IT WAS SO BAD.

I opened the can, looked in, and nearly tossed my cookies. EW. People eat this? People gladly open these tins and remove all this crap and eat it?! Needless to say I was even more grateful to my coworker for giving me the heads up. She also told me that people throw it in the food processor and grind up the bones to get more calcium. After seeing multiple little fish vertebrae in the tin, there was no way I wanted to do that. Just as I’d opened the tin and decided to suck it up and take out all the crap, my partner arrived home, saw the expression on my face, realized I was exclusively breathing through my mouth, and told me he would be the slayer of fish guts. This is why he’s a keeper.

We ended up attempting to grind the bones up (too many! Couldn’t get them all out), but putting it in the blender only resulted in all the fish guts being thrown against the side of the blender wall, resulting in nothing being blended at all. Plan B: take out all the bones by hand (thanks, fish gut slayer). Did I mention that this experience also made me realize that my grandmother fed her cats salmon as well? Because she definitely did, judging by the smell and my reaction to it. Vom.

After 20 minutes of doing that, it was finally time to mix in the salmon with the mashed potatoes and make little cakes out of it. THANK JEEBUS. However, since the recipe actually called for TWO of those disgusting cans of salmon (and I only bought one; I’m pretty sure if I had to gut two cans I would’ve just thrown them out the window and made lightly flavoured potato cakes), and since the cakes were mostly potato with very few other ingredients, they did not flip very well. They ended up misshapen and soft, and cooked although they looked NOTHING like the lovely picture in the book. The lemon aioli was delicious, but it couldn’t save this catastrophe of a meal. I started the initial process at about 6:30, and we didn’t eat until almost nine. I didn’t even include the damn salad with the chicken strips!

So, what did I learn from this? Never buying canned fish again. Fuck you, canned salmon. Fuck you. Best Recipes Ever my ass.

Behold, the Toddlers & Tiaras drinking game. Make sure you have a large drink and do NOT attempt during a T&T marathon. You have been warned.Take a drink when …

Anything makes a game participant gasp in shock.

A pageant girl is referred to as  1) a princess, 2) a diva, or 3) Jesus (drink x3 if there is a framed picture of the child next to a framed picture of Jesus)

A kid screams & squirms while getting something pageant required while their parent simultaneously states they “love it”

A pageant mom makes a flippant remark about how much pageants cost

A pageant child gets any of the following at a professional salon. Drink x2 if the child is under the age of five. CHUG if all of the treatments are received.

• highlights
• a haircut
• manicure/pedicure
• massage

The camera pans uncomfortably across the panel of judges (drink x2 for each bone-chillingly-creepy judge)

The pageant child’s father expresses disdain that his child is in a pageant, but doesn’t do anything about it

A pageant contestant is described as “The Total Package“

A pageant contestant is clearly favoured over other siblings. Drink x5 if that other sibling is an identical twin.

A pageant mom does every single move of a child’s routine out in the audience along with her child

And finally, CHUG your drink if you see a baby. In a pageant. Chug two full drinks if there are comments about the baby’s alleged “personality”

Crowning. Just drink everything. Because it references the birthing of a baby (which, conveniently, can be placed in the soonest pageant)

The famous pageant dad shows up and insists all his handmade costumes are THE. BEST. EVER.

Problem: the on light does not light up

Possible cause: the appliance is unplugged. Solution? Plug unit in.

Possible cause 2: there’s a power outage. Solution? Wait for power to be restored.

But wait, there’s more! Problem: the coffeemaker only brews water.

Possible cause: there are no coffee grounds in the filter basket.

Solution? add the desired amount of coffee.

Problem: the coffee is not hot.

Possible cause: there’s a power outage.

Solution? wait for power to be restored.

Possible cause 2: Auto shut-off has been activated.

Solution? for best results, brew a fresh pot of coffee.
Honestly, I pity the person who actually had to deal with annoyances/complaints that resulted in this guide. And the people who need to consult it to figure out that they need to plug the coffeemaker in for it to brew coffee.

Sears Canada and I haven’t been getting along over the past couple of years. First, I bought towels from them that disintegrated in my washer no matter what cycle I used (I even exchanged them, thinking it was just a bad batch. Nope, the same thing happened again). The next incident was when I wanted to send my mother flowers for her birthday, and selected a beautiful bouquet from Sears Flower Delivery. My momma, elated, sent me a picture of her with the flowers. That was when I hit the roof. The flowers she had were nothing like the ones I’d selected from the website. And, despite having a 100% satisfaction guarantee, it took me threatening Sears that I would call MasterCard and dispute the charge before they refunded my money.

Why do I keep going back to Sears, you ask? Well, I really wanted a new bed and I have a Sears MasterCard. Therefore, I could get the bed (with a frame and everything! Real Big Girl shit) and defer the payment until a year from now. Ta-da!

I went in on July 3rd and ordered a mattress, foundation, headboard, footboard, and rails. I scheduled the delivery for August 20th and toodled on my merry way. Little did I know, Sears would fuck up numerous times on this bed and I would end up swearing off them forever. Full story after the cut!

Problem number one: the billing process.

When I decided to get my shit together financially, I made sure that I called Sears to find out the administrative fee for putting the bed on deferral. However, when I called, the bed was actually not on deferral at all. The slimy (and I mean literally; his hair always looked wet and it was shoulder length) salesdude had not actually put the bed (and a chair I’d bought) on deferral. What that meant was had I not called, I would’ve been on the hook for the full amount of the bed and chair during that billing period. NOT what I wanted at all. So alright, we got that sorted out and I made the payment and I thought everything was hunky dory. I could not have been more wrong.

Problem number two: the delivery.

The bed was scheduled to arrive on August 20th between 8:30-12:30. I had planned my whole four day move around this delivery. The boys (my partner, his roommate, and my dad who had flown out to help with the move) were going to bring the couch over, and pick up the chair from the Sears store while I puttered around the new place unpacking. Sears’ automated system called me to confirm the delivery on Thursday, so I thought everything was going according to plan. I went out to the airport to get my dad and as we’re at the car rental counter I get a call that I ignore. The voicemail states it’s Sears, and that the bed actually hasn’t arrived yet and the delivery was cancelled until further notice. Cue my unbridled rage. Then acceptance. Backstory: I had originally planned to sell my old bed (an Ikea futon frame with an Ikea mattress) from the old apartment, and then get the new one delivered. Not having the new bed meant that either I had to keep the old one and move it (which was not ever in the plan) or stay at my partner’s place until the bed was delivered. Sears would not give me an answer as to when the bed might arrive.

I called them on Monday morning to see what they were going to do to remedy the situation. I mean, I ordered the thing at the beginning of July! The delivery was confirmed! What are you gonna do to keep me as a customer, Sears?!

I’ll tell you: nothing. Which leads to problem number three: customer service. Or lack thereof.

I called and they could tell me nothing. I got a curt response of “we called you when they called us” when I asked why the delivery had been confirmed when there wasn’t actually anything to deliver. I was frustrated and disappointed I wouldn’t have my new bed for my new apartment. So I talked things over with my dad, and we decided it’d be easiest to tell Sears to shove it and keep their bed; then we’d just move the old one (arrrrgh) and I could at least sleep at my new place. So not only did we now have to move the bed, but we couldn’t have the leisurely day I’d planned (complete with fantastic Chinese food).

Problem number four: cancelling the order.

I called Sears MasterCard, and explained the situation. The (actually very nice) lady on the phone told me I’d have to call the store from which I’d purchased the bed and have them submit the credit directly to Sears MasterCard. Ok, ok fine. I’ll do it. So I call the store, and explain the situation again, and the nice lady at the store took all the info. Then she asked if I’d called the guy who sold the bed to me (um, no), because there might’ve been something he could have done (like what? Deliver the bed himself?). I told her that I didn’t want him calling me to try and salvage the sale; my mind was made up and I just wanted my money back.

The call to the store was made August 23rd. I checked with Sears MasterCard on August 25th, which confirmed the credit had been applied to my account and would be reflected on my next statement. Hurrah, no more Sears!

Just kidding.

Sunday September 5, 2010. I get a call from Sears Home Delivery: Your bed is here, it’s been here for awhile so I don’t know why nobody’s called you about it yet, sorry about that! Give us a call and we’ll arrange a delivery time!

Good. Grief.

I called them back and had an argument about how the order hadn’t been cancelled (yes it had) and they’ll forward it to customer service (ok but they better not call me either, it’s not my fault you don’t communicate internally).

And that is the story of why I will never purchase anything from Sears (not even in store; both me and my partner have argued with them over refunds) ever again.

Today (September 24th, 2010): I received a call from Sears Home delivery telling me the pieces of my bed were in. I told them I’d cancelled the order at the end of August, and the home delivery woman finally seemed to get it and told me they would send the bed back to wherever it came from.

OH. MY. GOD. Leave me alone, Sears, I don’t want the fucking bed and I will not purchase anything from you ever again.
YESTERDAY (September 28th, 2010): I received my Sears MasterCard statement in the mail. The statement does not reflect my refund, in fact, the bed charge has now been moved off the deferral plan and apparently I owe them for it now! I spoke with someone at card services, and she kept interrupting me so I couldn’t get the whole story out. She said the credit HAS NOT been submitted from the store (when previously, was confirmed to be there on August 25th), and that I need to take my statements and go down to the store and have them submit the credit. Well, I kind of biffed it on Monday and I’m not in great shape (yet another entry), and I just want this over with. I could fucking scream right now. Has any0ne apologized? No. Has this been a simple and straightforward process? Absolutely not. Sears, I hate you.

I love watching Til Debt do us Part. Gail Vaz-Oxlade is my hero; she doesn’t take any bull from anyone and (most of the time) whips people into financial shape. Rich Bride, Poor Bride is another favourite of mine (and Bridezillas of course, but we don’t get that here) because it never ceases to amaze me a) how much people are willing to put themselves into debt for a wedding and b) what kind of assholes are hitching their wagons together these days. $70,000 on a wedding? $6,000 on two dresses because you absolutely MUST have a reception dress? The wedding industrial complex is sneaky and mesmerizing, but that’s another post altogether.

Right. Back to finances. I have my own personal finance section on my bookshelf; my partner once requested a few books on finances and I pulled out six or seven. There are a few there that I’m sure I haven’t even read yet. I read personal finance blogs (I will teach you to be rich, The Globe and Mail’s Life and Money section), but never seem to get a cohesive system together that works well for me. I have personal finance ADD.

Just to clarify: I have no debt. I am in a secure position with benefits and a great wage. I am 23 and University educated (BA – yes I have worked at Starbucks, how did you know?). I know I am extremely lucky and privileged to be where I am right now, what with the economy the way it is. My partner is currently looking for an office/real world job, and it’s been very difficult to find anything.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk numbers. Hmm…maybe not. Not sure how comfortable I am with disclosing that at the moment, so we’ll talk about some of the different personal finance methods I’ve come across…

* Be frugal – you’re spending $5,000 a year on Starbucks! You asshole, that could be a down payment on a decent car!

* Forget about frugality – focus on the big things and fuck the haters! If it’s in your budget to spend $5,000 a year on Starbucks you go right ahead and do it!

* Get out of debt – stop spending your money on worthless crap and start saving for retirement/a better future for yourself/your family.

* Make more money – take on freelancing work, negotiate a raise, start a side business… anything to bring extra dollars in each month for either debt repayment or savings funds.

Off the top of my head, and without going to my bookshelf, those are the main theories I can think of. And I’m not talking about going into economics here, I just mean straight up what can you do to improve your financial situation in the short and long term.

Ahem.

I choose not to write about work things on here because I don’t want to get Dooced. Especially because my organization (read: overlords) is super 1984-ish about sniffing out insubordination, mainly through tattling. I kid you not. I’d like to conserve some anonyminity. Just a little bit. Enough to not be pelted in the street with Hercules Knots, anyway.

I would love love love to write about my daily frustrations at work: dealing with idiots, headdesking on an hourly basis, you get the picture. However, it is not to be. Things get ridiculous enough around these parts without me including my work diatribes. Plus, when I need to let it all out I just put on my rantypants, go down the hall, and let loose on some poor officedweller. It’s how I roll.

Anyways, so back when I lived in this house, I shared a bathroom with one of the roommates (there were four of us on the main floor – two bathrooms, two bedrooms). She was into photography and put pictures up on her wall that she’d taken (at 11:00 at night, mind you), and that’s cool. I like photos, I’m a bit of a shutterbug myself. What wasn’t was the fact that in the bathroom, there was a framed picture of her and her parents on her side of the sink. Yeah. I’m just going to give you a second with that.

Nothing like getting out of the shower and reaching for your towel to see a picture of some people you’ve never met with your roommate on the goddamn counter. AND! That wasn’t even that bad compared to the other picture. I wish I had photoshop or something so I could actually post the picture I’m about to describe to the blog and retain anonymity of the offender, but alas I don’t. So use your (sicko) imagination. There was an 8 1/2″ by 11″ framed photo of her and her sisters in the living room. Now, that’s fine, you have sisters, you love them, you take pictures with them. However, this was not a typical happy family photo. There were two things wrong with this it:

Number one, that’s kinda weird that you’re putting your family photos all over the common areas of a house you share with three other people to whom you are not related. Isn’t it? I thought it was.

Number two… This was not a normal sisterly love kind of picture. R2 was in the middle, with a sister on each side. The picture was in black and white and taken from an upward angle, and R2 has a hand on each sister’s thigh and is looking skyward with her eyes closed, if you can imagine that. Like she’s taking a big breath and kind of….thigh grabbing. Thigh grabbing her sisters. It’s much creepier in person, as evidenced by the reactions of both friends that came to visit at the house and the friends/family I may or may not have emailed the picture to. Ick.

Fucking weird.