Today’s post is a bit of a grab-bag.
To anyone interested in joining Swagbucks: I might be able to get you 100 extra points. On Saturday evening I took part in an online chat about shopping/rewards sites. Those “attending” were given a code to offer to new referrals in addition to the usual 30-point sign-up bonus.
I’ve got new articles up at both my day jobs, in which I counsel how to get bonus bucks from banks and how to protect yourself in the aftermath of a car accident.
Remember my previous post about money-lending? Here’s an update — and it isn’t pretty.
Do you always grab for the tab, or do you and friends/roommates split even the smallest expenditures?
The first can leave you open to exploitation. The second can be aggravating if it becomes an exercise in, “SonyaAnn got the extra cup of ranch dressing so she owes 30 cents more.”
Treading that ticklish territory is the subject of my latest column over at MSN Money, “Your best friends’ bank: You.” (Edited to add: This article is no longer available since Microsoft changed platforms. Sorry about that.)
It’s always fun to go through the mail after you return from a long trip. True, a lot of what’s piled up is junk mail and charitable solicitations, but you always hope for some good stuff.
Two months’ worth of envelopes were waiting when I got back from Alaska in mid-July. I did find a $39 check from Mr. Rebates (yay, cash-back shopping!) and a couple of paychecks from my Get Rich Slowly gig. But the haul was mostly, well, junk mail and charitable solicitations.
And credit card applications. Ten of them.
You’ve got to love a blogger who can work the phrase “Cartesian dualism” into a post. In this case the blogger is my daughter, Abigail Perry, and the article is about us both. (But mostly her.)
Don’t let the title “Glorifying my mom (who’s glorifying me)” fool you. It’s not an exercise in mutual admiration, although I do admire the hell out of her. The post is about her re-reading “You can’t even tell perfect bodies apart,” a post I wrote about Abby’s near-fatal illness, and then reflecting on who she was then and who she is now.
Often we hear about boomerang kids, or middle-aged “children” who keep asking their parents to subsidize them. But what happens when Mom and Dad hit you up for a loan?
Late one recent evening I stopped at a nearly deserted supermarket. One tired-looking cashier leaned against her counter, and a customer service agent yawned mightily as he kept an eye on the self-checkout area.
No one was anywhere near the coin-counting machine. As is my wont, I glanced into its returned-coin bin as I passed by.
Did I hit the jackpot.
I had a delightful surprise last night, courtesy of my junk-mail folder. And no, I didn’t click on one of those f**kbook ads.
I love animals, but I don’t want any pets. It’s probably because I don’t want to be responsible for another living being.
Or to be responsible for torturing another living being.