[Imported] Shoemoney?

When you visit relatives who still watch VHS tapes and don’t even have a wireless signal (steal-able or not) from a neighbor within a 10 mile radius, your blog gets real quiet, real fast.

And sometimes your fingers make odd twitching motions as if they’re subconsciously and independently typing the conversation going around you.

But for this blog, I have something else to talk about.

I’m trying to figure out various ways to make a few bucks here and there, because try as I might, I don’t think the jobs I have now are going to help me make the amount of money I need for all I want to do this summer, especially when I consider bills I have to pay, money I owe my mom, and the fact that I haven’t bought myself a single new clothing item in nearly a YEAR, and the estrogen in me DEMANDS NEW CLOTHES.

I can’t even pretend that what I’m about to say isn’t true, but I wore a pair of pants today on which the zipper won’t stay up and the button above the zipper fell off, which means that I’ve got one safety pin holding my pants up and one safety pin keeping my pants closed, and all I can say is WHERE ARE STACY AND CLINTON WHEN YOU NEED THEM?

Last night when I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I played around with some "a bit of cash here, a bit of cash there" ideas, and I came up with a few. One was donating my eggs since I could get paid around $5,000 (please take a moment to reflect upon those three zeros), but then I learned that I could die from complications which caused me to pause, and then I learned that I might gain weight and I thought NO WAY IN HELL.

Then I came up with an idea that would at least allow me to save a bit of money rather than spend it, and we all know that a penny not spent on a necessity is a penny spent on something really, totally awesome probably. You know, that old chestnut of a proverb. But yes, I’m about 500 miles past getting my oil changed, which I’m sure means I’m living on borrowed car-time and any minute now my engine is going to burst into flames, running or not, and since my car is surrounded by other cars (with tanks full of GASOLINE, mind you) in our townhome parking lot, they will all subsequently catch fire and explode, and then I will be the one to pay for all the damages, and do you know what that would cost me? AN ENTIRE OVARY’S WORTH OF EGGS.

But since I can think of about a million better ways to spend that $20 (like pants that work), I’ve been putting the oil change off. That’s when I thought that perhaps I could learn to do it myself! I’d take that $20 and smugly waving it at the Professional Oil Changers (that’s what they’re called, right?) right after I emerge from underneath my car all greasy and black. I bet a lot of guys would find that hot too, eh? I ran this by my mom, and then she had to go bursting my bubble with the fact that by the time I bought the oil and the filter (filter? what’s a filter for?) and whatever else you need, I probably would be saving a grand total of $1.39, give or take a few cents. Thanks, mom. Thanks.

But I also thought that I could sell my golf clubs! Oooo...big bucks there. After all, I’ve heard my mom complain a few times about how much room they take up in the closet, and I know how much she hates that sport, especially since we so strongly associate it with my dad. And as much as I enjoy golf, it’s not something I could do for free, and I’d much rather spend that money at a theme park. There’s also the fact that I’ve used them all of three times in the past 8 years, so I doubt it would pain me to see them go. Obvious thing to do? Craigslist ’em! So, I started cleaning them up - polishing their heads and digging out the dirt from all the little nooks and crannies, all while I was in the middle of an AIM conversation with my mom. I told her my plan to sell the clubs, and if I were to have bet on what her reaction was going to be (I would have put my money on, "THANK GOD, NATALIE,"), I would have lost the eggs in my remaining ovary. That’s because she said, "No! You can’t do that!" At that point it started snowing in Hell, and then my mom explained how one of her friends at work likes to play golf at the night course and now she’s been invited and ACTUALLY WANTS TO GO. Well, good. Now they’ll be all clean and shiny for you. And I’ll just sit here in my pinned up pants.

In trying to explain how unpredictable and uncharacteristic of a reaction from my mom this is (wow, that was some awkward grammar), the only thing I can think of to use as a frame of reference for you guys would be to say that this would be like me suddenly wanting to eat fish (eww) on an airplane (ahhh!) while having an abortion. Um, no thanks, I’d rather PEEL MY TOENAILS OFF ONE BY ONE.

So, internets, in light of my brilliant ideas being ripped apart and put in a blender, here’s a chance for you to get creative. Any ideas on how to make a few bucks here? A few bucks there? Maybe a few bucks everywhere?