Friday for Thought: Retirement Funds

Years ago, between American Girl dolls, episodes of Home Improvement and long addition I decided to start a retirement fund. I had opened a checking account and learned to ride a dirt bike by age 8, so for an 11-year old I was would say I was advanced. My parents were invested in my continued development, encouraging my hobbies, athletics and financial security.

Naturally, being as “matured” as I was (and still am, thank you), I found the best, most aggressive investment as possible. I recently read that the younger years are the best time to make more “high-risk” investments.

See? Advanced.

So, I sunk my weekly allowance, meager babysitting earnings and the all-too-often double please to my parents into the obvious:

Beanie babies.

I hit up the local Hallmark Store and scoured every swap meet Dad took me to for those tough to find and/or retired pellet-filled plushes. I begged for a few extra bucks to cover the cost of a $20 Seaweed (the Otter) and protected the sure-to-be goldmines with tag sleeves and caps to ensure my Babies would be protected and in pristine condition. I had a printed, plastic sleeved list of retired, high-value Beanies with highlights. Don’t even get me started on all the Happy Meals I ate for those mini matching Beanies.

And, apparently, I joined the Beanie Baby Club – with printed certificate to prove it.

So, it’s fair to say when I asked my Dad to being my tub of Beanies over I was preeeetty confident that I had several hours of eBaying in my future.

Just the Beginning

What the hell was I thinking? These things crashed faster than the 2009 economy. I would have been better off turning them weeks (days?!) after purchase to return at least some sort of positive profit.

I spent an hour on my bedroom floor filtering through the bears, cats and dogs. Hippity, Hoppity, Floppity — one of these things MUST be worth something. Anything! After I found my Princess Diana bear I thought — BOOM! Dynamite. This is gonna be it.

Next time you want a good laugh, go ahead and search “Princess Diana Beanie Baby” on eBay. Want to know what that “must have” sells for?

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Yah, like $3. Maybe $7. But mostly $3.

So that was disappointing. (See #14 on the Huffington Posts “15 Things That Happen to You When You Start to ‘Grow Up'”)

But not quite as disappointing as realizing that I bought THREE of them. THREE?

How much did I pay for the extra two?

Weren’t those hard to come by?

I BOUGHT THREE!??!

Reviewing the current value of retired American Girl doll cloths/accessories that would have been a better use of funds. How was I to know that Beanie Babies would fizzle out and die like a dud firecracker?

Since Beanie Babies don’t pay the bills, I am going to transfer some money into that IRA now…before I convince myself that I can retire on shoes and airline miles.

Oh hey! How about these BitCoins…

 

Hugs for Me!

You know how sometimes you think if you met a celeb you would become automatic BFFs with them? That you would be so laid back and chill about the fact that their name has been splashed across every form of media, social network, etc.? You would be all, hey whoa! but then hold a normal conversation?

Turns out, I’m not that person.
Like at all.

There was that time Bestie and I got to go backstage at the Fray concert in Spokane. We ate Doritos on their tour bus. (#hungry) And had drinks with their family. Then, at 21, I was a more level headed celeb-greater than the mature 29-year old I am today.

Last weekend at Bestie’s bachelorette, a weekend full of sunning, vodka and dancing, we left the club and haphazardly ended up walking next to one of the loudest mouths to come out of Seattle ever. I favorited him right after the “you mad, bro?” picture and instantly became amazed by his skill on the field and accomplishments as a person.

Between the time he told a room of high schoolers the average NFL career is 3 and a half years then “pinched his fingers together, emphasizing the short period. He then lifted his arms out wide to spread his full, 78-inch wingspan” and said, “‘This is the rest of your life. Be prepared.'”(Read the full article from the Daily News here.)

To when he pulled this little Bourbon Street stunt with the Bleacher Report:

…how can you not just love the guy?! I have dreamt of meeting him (literally meeting him has been in my dreams.) And there he was!

Mind. Blown.

My cohort starting yelling, “SEA-HAWKS!” While trying to run after him. I was still in shock, stunned and trailing after her. Naturally I was wearing my favorite [pink] wedge platforms and several vodka grapefruits so I was moving somewhat slower than my runnin’ pace.

We were told, “no photos!” several times. Me being me in my starstruck state said what any fan would say when faced with a no picture dilemma: I don’t want a photo, just a hug!

And you guys, he hugged me.

“Richard Sherman fucking hugged me.” That is the exact text message I sent Boyfriend at 3am when I could not stop obsessing over it.

And because I’m not the calm and low key person I once thought I was, and I don’t think Richard found immediate friendship in my loud, giggly, near tears persona, I naturally tried to log in to my Twitter to tweet about it.

But of course, at 3am trying to download a Twitter app, remember your handle, then your password is virtually impossible for a flaky tweeter like myself.

And of course when you’re a flaky tweeter, you don’t realize that the only time you tweet is when the Hawks are playing and 50% of the time it’s about #25. (PICK SIX! PICK SIX!)

So you definitely probably shouldn’t tweet at him about that hug he gave you that one time in Scottsdale…because he’ll probably think you’re a jersey chaser.

But I did all of that, because even though we didn’t share an immediate and inseparable friendship – you guys – RICHARD SHERMAN FUCKING HUGGED ME.

IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!

Did you hear? Today is my birthday. Praise, celebrate, text, post, drink because today is MY DAY! In fact, I have been known to say things like, “but it’s MY MONTH!” or “it’s MY BIRTHDAY WEEK” or the classic, “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!!!!” Phrases that are telling of my combined single-childness and obnoxiousness that my closest friends endure throughout April.

Except my Mom. She embraces and promotes this behavior.

While you may find my birthday attitude a combination of narcissistic + self-centered, I invite you to review the name of my blog and hold your tongue.

So, in honor of me (me, me, me…) here is a list + links + PICTURES of my favorite things:

1. Michael Kors Fulton Moc Flats in Fuschia: because LOOK AT THE FUSCHIA? Don’t these just say, “wear me with jeans!” Also, because I live in Seattle I will tell you that MK’s leather doesn’t lend itself well to rainy days. Like, you might end up with ombre shoes if you aren’t careful. (The good news is you can usually replace them via eBay. #BidsWhileDrinking)

Image2. Everything at Anthropologie, specifically this dress (Vernalis Maxi Dress): ok SPOILER alert, HBD me because I bought it. Yes, yes I know, I didn’t wait and see buuuut you guyssssss all the sizes were selling out and I needed it. I thought if I tried it on in the store in a size too small I would be all, “no way, jose” but instead I lusted for days. And when the store associate (is that what they are called these days?) said, “where are you going to wear it?” I said, “EVERYWHERE” maybe a little too quickly.

Image3. Black Puffy Vest w/ Hood: did I mention I live in Seattle? Where it’s currently 60 and raining [hard]. No, I didn’t wear open-toed wedges because, “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!” and I wanted a cute outfit and everything else I had was dirty. Or on the floor. Anyways, it’s time for a new puffy because the one I am rockin’ now is beat up, faded and blah.

PS: if it had faux fur trim, I wouldn’t be mad.

4. Stylish Home Goods: ok, Boyfriend and I are 3+ years into this thing and I am going to call it pretty close to almost permanent. I have been nesting up a storm in his house (#keeper: owns his home), painting rooms, painting furniture, secretly moving in – the usual. And I continually find things that will make his (OUR) house a little more homey. Like this mirror, which is upsettingly no longer available:

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Or this summer quilt with shams + throw pillow, which had to be purchased immediately after the aforementioned mirror trauma:

ImageOr these bowls – ooooh these bowls! Anthropologie gets me again with their delicious kitchen goods. Also, can I just say that their online shipping is completely ridiculous? Can I say that? Because it is. I can barely bring myself to buy a $200 dress (bday discount + gift card, cha-ching!) so don’t throw salt in my credit card wound with your $15 shipping. Rude.

Back to these bowls, perfect for ice cream, top ramen or…err..a salad..

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5. And finally, my all time Kryptonite: Trophy Cupcakes. Holy Mother of all that is good and pure. My co-worker knows where I stand on celebrating myself and my deep-rooted obsessionlove for Trophy Cupcakes. Not just any ol’ cupcake will do, for if I am going to spend the calories it better be the best cupcake Seattle can give.

Ok, not true. I will definitely eat any cupcake. Anyways, I came to work and found the following:

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A cupcake with a crown? AAAAAW. NOM NOM NOM NOM@#!@!