Disney Donkey Movie Comes Back to Haunt Me

These are lyrics from a song in the Disney Christmas movie, "Small One":
"Clink clink, clank clank
Get the money to the bank
Telling little stories they can trust
We never, ever fail when we go to make a sale...
We simply cheat a little if we must!"

I have to get that out of my head. Writing it down helps, but I know I am cursing myself when I re-read this again sometime-- the song will come flooding back. That movie, if you never saw it, is about a little boy having to sell his donkey and all these evil people try to buy him so they can either abuse him or in the butcher's case... kill him (the donkey, not the little boy). Lucky for the little boy and the donkey, Mary and Joseph come along and take the donkey, where pregnant Mary hops on and they head to the barn for a little thing called the Birth of Jesus. The moral is: if you can't sell your donkey, don't give up, because holy people could be right around the corner.

I have been singing a lot of songs in my head lately that have to do with money. Reason being-- I need more of it. I want to move back to NJ but realize I have very little cash to do that with, and I don't want to just blow the little savings I do have on moving costs when I have no guaranteed job when I do go there. So I am applying the brakes a bit. I want to get more money before I go, and that means paying down debt and other un-fun adult-type flim-flam and what-not.

So unless someone makes me some sweet offer back in NJ either to sell me a place to live real cheap or to hand me a fantastic job, I must re-think The Plan and create a new scheme. The current thought I am consumed with is, "Should I buy some real estate?" The market is doing damn well here in the Phoenix area, and if I could buy something the equity in a couple of years could really pay off. But I'm not sure, so I am doing a ridiculous amount of thinking and list- and budget-making these days trying to sort it all out. I've even found a couple potential homes to buy. But do I really, REALLY want to commit to something like this and live here for another couple of years? I wish I knew for sure.

The main reason I want to go back to NJ is for the people there. My family and my best friends are there, and I could make new friends a little easier there than here. Something about NJ/NY people-- I just get them more, and they get me a little more than some of the folks I have run into here over the past 6 years. I also think I need to date a dude from back there, because of this same reason. No more flaky types or headcase southwesterners. Give me a nice, solid, sarcastic and slightly-geeky guy from the city and I'll be set. The secondary reason to go back is for the trees and the culture. Yeah, I put trees before culture. Trees make me daydream, and I get relaxed when I sit near a large, leafy tree. I have reviewed my writings since I was a kid, and trees show up a whole lot. I like trees, very much, thank you. As for culture-- the art, the theater, the writing-- it all seems to be there in a much more concentrated way than it is in this town. I want to be around that and I really and truly want to become smarter again. I have gotten so dumb living here. Take this blog, for instance. No, seriously. Take it away from me so I can do something productive.

An Unnecessary Tangent

Today I had a happy money moment when I went through the McDonald's drive through at lunch. I have never tried a grilled chicken sandwich from there, since I was scared of the mayonnaise-- mayo and I are not happy bedfellows, let's leave it at that. And for God's sake, why was it in my bed, you might wonder... but the truth is, no one knows to this day. But today I got BRAVE. I never like to "cause a fuss" or "stir up trouble" when it comes to ordering fast food... I don't want to hold up the line or otherwise slow down the production machine, nor do I want to risk angered employees spitting in my special order. Yes, today was the day where I said farewell to my hesitation and apprehension. I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich without the mayo. The day is mine!

Here's where the money comes in. I know you are dying to hear this, because I am practically shitting myself in excitement over the climax of this story, which I know is coming up:

All I had in my wallet was $4. I was concerned I couldn't pay for my entire meal with just those four crumpled bills, so I thought I'd have to use their ATM feature. They charge you a fee to use it though. Ronald is a money grubbing necrophiliac. I hate that dead-ass screwing clown fruitcake... he fucks your dead uncle and then steals your money. What a prick, huh? He doesn't fool me with his chain of popular fast food restaurants... I know, just as millions of us do, that his little McDonald empire is nothing but a cover for a necrophiliac lifestyle of degradation, shame and utter animalistic disgust.

I digress, as usual, onto a tangent I didn't see coming. Anyway, I got ready to use my debit card and pay the fee, but it turns out the amount was under $4!

...I don't know. Was I actually too excited about this? Should I be worried that I am not getting enough excitement in my life otherwise? I would think so, but I am distracted by scary mental images of Ronald McDonald with smeared red and white make-up with a hole cut in the front of his doofy yellow pants.

Isn't the world a frightening place? Yikes. Clink clink, clank clank, get the money to the bank...