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My girlfriend’s job responsibilities have once again spilled over into my life, giving me a second job, bartending special events.  I am not complaining like I was this time.  Rather now, I am revelling in the extra money.  And by revelling in the extra money, I mean, I have some superfluous walking around dough.  And by superfluous walking around dough I mean, I’ve bought a new mattress and paid for an upcoming trip to Boston in the spring. 

I am not good with money.  When I have cash on hand, I can’t spend it fast enough.   Let me get the first round!  Did someone say “shots”?  Oh I got it.  Keep the change my good man.  Thankfully, I run on a mostly cashless system.  People think, because I am an accountant, I must be good with money.  Silly.  So silly.  I don’t do taxes.  I rely on a calculator for the simplest of calculations.  I do not know how to plan and save for my future but I do know how to make bad financial decisions.  Case in point, the Saab convertible that I absolutely had to buy. 

Cold as Ice

The Masshole is my financial hero.  She has the work ethic of….well without using a sweeping generalization, I’ll just say, she has a good work ethic.  Nothing like mine.  I top out at 40 hours a week.  And by 40 hours a week I mean 38 but I write down 40.  She rarely falls below 55 a week.  She has a very short sit-time.  I, on the other hand, have no problem sitting for hours on end.   For all her hard work, she is debt-free and stockpiles money.  My running joke about her is that, I’m positive she has cargo loads of money strung up in tall trees in the jungles of Belize guarded by gun-toting monkeys.  I’m almost convinced she has a cache of money in our mattress.  However, we just bought a new mattress last month so she must have moved it.  It’s probably buried in the backyard under the fire pit now.  And if I could only find the key she has hidden for her not-so-hidden safe.  It’s like she’s taunting me with it.   Here’s the safe but rest assured you’ll never find the key

With all this supplemental scratch I still can’t seem to force myself to save for anything other than fun.  401k?  Whatever.  IRA?  Bring a book!  All I want to do is buy a plane ticket for myself and the Masshole and get out west.  Well that and blindly throw chunks of money at my credit card balances.  I think I’m going to throw a wine and finance night.  A Wine-ance night.  Invite a few key friends over and drink copious amounts of wine and try to settle our bottom lines.  The Masshole can lead us wayward souls down the path to headache town and dwindling debt ville.