I always succumb to the old fashioned sponsorship request. Biking for breast cancer? Iâ€™ll give. Dance-off for diabetes? Sign me up. Golfing for gout? Hereâ€™s a twenty.
Have a pet? Donâ€™t forget pet insurance. Weâ€™re quite smug about having it. Or were. Iâ€˜m kinda wishing the dogâ€™s thyroid condition would worsen, just so the insurance company will have to pay.
Fact is, everyone thinks they have great taste. They donâ€™t. And thatâ€™s why, sometimes, it really is better to give than to receive.
With each move, I’d fill bag after bag of no longer needed stuff. What was one person’s crap was another person’s treasure. Or whatever. Either way, I thought I was paring down quite nicely. I was embracing the whole simple living thing. Or at least pretending to. Really I was just getting rid of the fat pants/skinny pants â€“ insert whichever fits.
Credit card companies have wised up. Theyâ€™ve realized thereâ€™s a market for cards that actually let you spend your miles. No shortage of seats, no blackout periods, no restrictions on carriers â€“ nothing to stop you jetting away. Oh no, wait â€“ there is one little itty thang; the tax. And did I mention the other â€œfeesâ€? Lord help you if you dare to change your ticket. Ka-ching, ka-ching
…hereâ€™s something else you should know: people actually ask me about what I think. At least they used to. Back when I was a hotshot film industry exec (ok, an assistant to a hot shot movie director, but who really knows the difference anymore?) Yeah, back then I was in the know: great Parisian restaurants, hip London pubs, best gourmet food emporiums (imporia?) in Toronto, hottest beaches in Southeast Asia to meet Israeli boysâ€¦
There are probably more ways to book your â€œfreeâ€ travel than there are seats available. You can go online and try your luck. I did, and managed to nab one of the elusive 15000 pointers. Plus the usual taxes and surcharges and all that. Hereâ€™s the thing: I booked the trip in February. Iâ€™m going away in June. And there are about 12 flights a day on this route. Sounds like shoo-in, right?
I had a â€œPretty Womanâ€ moment the other day. Movie, not song. And no, I wasnâ€™t picked up by a zillionaire knight in shining armour blah blah blah. Remember when Jules walked into a fancy shmancy store and they snubbed her? Then she returned with Dick and bought out the place? â€œBig mistake. Huge.â€
…she has a couple of kids. Boys. Boys who, she claimed, â€œare much easier than girls. And much nicer.â€ She turned to leave but first, looking me square in the eye, she added, â€œgirls are bitches.” Whoa! What was up her ass?
I learned that my own mother, the queen of the mom/daughter love affair, the biggest promoter of parent-offspring bonding EVER, the Maharaja of mothers would not be there. She was devastated. I thought for sure we were doomedâ€¦