I’ve seen a double-yolked egg, a two-headed snake, a double entendre, a double-decker bus, a double play, a 2×4, double seating, a twin turbo, a two-for-one sale, dual action formula detergent, dos equis beer, double mint gum, Twin Peaks, a double feature, a double header, two turntables (and a microphone), double parking, two for flinching, two to tango and Tea For Two. I’ve even had second thoughts, second sight, second looks, a second glance, a second to think, and have even gone to second base, double-downed in Vegas, have had two pennies to rub together, double nickels on the dime, and a two dollar bill.
But it wasn’t until last night when I opened up a package of Top Ramen and saw this:
Two packets of flavorings!
What do you think? Is this some sort of a sign? Should I go out and buy a lottery ticket tomorrow?
I bit the bullet, rolled up my sleeves, and dug in my heels. Sure, my nails are a bit dirty and my hair’s mussed, but I’m finally free from the old ball-and-chain.
Yes, it was a hassle, but I finally feel liberated.
I have changed banks.
No longer am I under the oppressive, uncompromising thumb of Bank of America. I’m now free from monthly charges, ATM fees, and the stigma of being a BofA “customer”.
Changing banks wasn’t cut and dry for me. What had I had to do was open an account with another bank (in my case I’m using USAA…free checking!) and make an initial deposit. I then had to move my automatic college payment (yes, I’m still paying this) to my new bank. Then I waited on pins and needles for my box of new checks to show up in the mail. Once I had those I updated my paycheck auto deposit paperwork to point to my new account, then cancelled my account with BofA.
All told it was a two week process, but it’s finally done! The plan now is to go all cash for any purchases. This will help me save even more money when I see bills physically leaving my hands instead of being magically charged to my debit or credit card.
I feel as if a great weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.
Goodbye Bank of America. May we never cross paths again…
The only time I don’t channel surf when commercials are on television is during the Superbowl. But I saw this commercial last night while wrapping things up for the evening and I couldn’t tear myself away. By the time the thing was over I was a blubbery mess.
Yep. You heard right. A guy who can bench 325lbs and who thinks running up and down Mt. Whitney is a “good time” couldn’t hold back the tears after watching this:
But hey, I’ve been known to fall apart at the end of Saving Private Ryan, Independence Day and Big Trouble In Little China, so I guess my reaction to this commercial really shouldn’t come as a big shock.
No… I’m not emotional. I…I just have something in my eye… (*wipe* *wipe*)
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Costo is an amazing place.
Not only can I stock up on multi-packs of toothpaste, gallons of Smart Water, pounds of chocolate and obscene amounts of batteries, huge slabs of what I can only assume is some form of GM’d Frankenfish, shelled crab and industrial-sized tins of refried beans, I can also pick up some of the finest meat at prices so low that even I can afford to splurge on whole hunks of cow.
I guess the only downside to Costco is how busy the place gets during the weekends. In my eyes, what draws a large percentage of shoppers to their stores are the infamous free samples which are handed out at the end of nearly every aisle. And it seems that when shoppers spy free food their brains shut down. The falter mid-stride, abandon their carts, bags and boxes and stumble towards the alluring scents of free chili, warmed doughnuts and buttered croissants. The carnage one is forced to navigate is reminiscent of the 101 in Los Angeles during rush hour. I’m just waiting for the day when I’ll find an abandoned, tearful child screaming for it’s mother amidst the cardboard box and shopping cart ruins, forgotten and ignored by the parents who are caught in the grip of an irresistible aeons-old primal food lust.
I’m also of the firm belief that entire groups of people show up not to shop but rather to feed themselves and their extended families, which adds to the chaos in the frozen food aisles where the choicest offerings are cooked up in rapid fashion to appease the dull, slack-jawed mob that just might turn violent if denied their scrapple sampler platter and miniature cup of brewed gourmet coffee.
I feel bad for the poor saps behind the portable counters whose job it is to not only heat up their assigned pre-packaged food product, break them up into individual sample sizes and parse them into miniature paper vessels, but also to shoo away the wild-eyed, ferrel children hoping from one cart to another with unsupervised abandon and to notify the senior citizens seeking a free meal because their social security funds are tapped out for the month that “one sample per person means just that”.
But I guess I’m willing to put with having to deal with socially challenged individuals if that means I can get a 12-pack of Jimmy Dean breakfast croissants for $9 and enough Starbucks mocha frappuccino to keep me wired 24/7.
