Larks’ tongues! Otters’ noses! Ocelot spleens! RSS Readers!

Last month, Sean from Financial Ramblings ranked the busiest, the longest lasting, and the most popular PF-Blogs in his reader.

While that might not be a real credible sampling, it’s still a pretty impressive list that must’ve taken a long time to put together — but for dorks like me that love charts and numbers, it held my interest a lot longer than most entries about blogging do. This entry included.

On his chart of the busiest PF-Blogs, PIAC came in 26th place out of 150 with 36 posts for the month. That was pleasantly surprising.

Of course, quantity doesn’t necessary relate to quality.

One popular blog on there has multiple posts per day… everyday. I used to read it, but then I began to realize that it was a repetitive, I dunno, “how many job interviews can I go to without actually ever getting a job” fest.

If it wasn’t a about a half-hearted job search, it was just talk about a new crush, what she’s having for dinner, or what overpriced outfit she planned on wearing Friday night or something. Yawn.

On the other hand, there are some sites that post maybe once or twice a week that are just great reads every single time. They ranked really low on the busy chart. Often times, quality outweighs quantity.

The next chart Sean put together was a longevity chart. PIAC started back in April 2007 which ranked 69th. Not old, but not new either.

But it was this chart, combined with the popularity chart that really tweaked my interest.

On the popularity listing, my Feedburner count wasn’t even listed. Not sure why, but it doesn’t really matter — I would have fallen at the back of the list. Way at the back.

Post frequency aside, among other sites that are the about the same age, my number of readers is very, very low — usually between 50 and 60 readers. It’s been stagnant for, well, pretty much all of 2008 while my traffic has continued to grow and grow with each passing month…

Why is that?

Well, one thing I’ve noticed is that a lot of blogs out there have big graphics in their side bar begging people to sign up for their feed. Many even make entries stating just that: Click here to subscribe to my feed! No other content, just sign up please.

I haven’t done that before… until NOW!

So, if you wouldn’t mind, and you semi-regularly read this site, please consider signing up for my RSS Feed, you know, if only to boost my ego. ;0)

No worries, I won’t bother with telling you what I’m having for dinner, what I’m wearing on Friday, or what kind of soap I used this morning.

Posted on August 25th, 2008 at 9:24 am by Brainy Smurf
Blogging? | No Comments »

Dropping the Baton at the Olympics

Earlier today I made reference to the fact that both the U.S. Men’s and Women’s 4×100 meter relay team dropped the baton in the Olympics this week, thereby eliminating themselves from the finals.

Last night I also noticed that in the men’s semi-final that Great Britain, the favorite in the race, made their exchange outside the zone. Stupid. That can’t happen. Especially at this level and in a preliminary race?!

It took NBC at least 5 minutes to make mention of that fact because they were so busy giving us super close up shots of the Americans who didn’t even cross the finish line. I’m not even sure that they made mention of who won the heat. Poor Tyson Gay…

NBC’s over-Americanized presentation aside, I couldn’t help but laugh at every single heat. Nearly half the field in each race was disqualified for either dropping the baton or making the exchange outside the zone.

On top of that, when an exchange was made successfully, it was poorly executed EVERY SINGLE TIME!

I ran track in high school. I wasn’t a sprinter, but being a middle distance runner, I did run the 4×400 and 4×800 relay on occasion.

Sure, being that those races aren’t as short as the 4×100, the baton exchanges aren’t quite as important, but you know what? We practiced them. A lot.

No, we weren’t world class in the relay. But our handoffs, well, based on last night’s performance by at least 8 different countries, were, in fact, world class. We would have qualified for the finals just because we would have finished the race. How sad is that?

I feel bad for the US. Individually, they don’t have the best sprinters in the world, not even close (though NBC would have you think otherwise) but they do have the most depth.

While a guaranteed gold medal in the relay may have been a lofty expectation, the US relay teams were basically guaranteed a medal. Guaranteed.

But they didn’t practice the team part. That much was obvious. Hey, the article even mentions that point — though I’m not sure it even had to. It was *that* obvious.

As a result, they didn’t even make the final.

On a personal note, I thought it was disgusting that the NBC commentators essentially blamed Darvis Patton on the men’s side seemingly because he isn’t the household name Tyson Gay is. I’m sorry, but that missed exchange was 100% Tyson Gay’s fault. 100 percent. The anchor dropped the ball.

For the women, it was rinse and repeat. NBC again laid blame on the wrong runner. Lauryn Williams, I’m looking at you.

Posted on August 22nd, 2008 at 9:43 am by Brainy Smurf
Running, Sports | 1 Comment »

Lack of Momentum to Get Over the Hump

I’m in one of those zones of funk where clearing my debts is within sight, but for some reason, after month after month of progress, it suddenly doesn’t feel like I’m getting any closer.

In distance running terms, I’ve hit the wall.

But, hey, I know what the problem is. That’s a start, right?

The additional money I’ve thrown towards the mortgage while trying to get the PMI eliminated has most definitely derailed my plans. Without a doubt. I know that.

So far, I’ve paid down my mortgage an additional $3k more than I thought I had to. And half of that was put on a credit card. That type of maneuver will derail any payment plan…

It was back on October 31, 2007 that I kicked off my first and only debt snowball plan. Through the Happy Rock, I stumbled upon a great debt repayment calculator and it got me excited to make an attempt at a more structured plan than what I’d done in the past.

Looking at my “schedule“, my last non-mortgage debt was to be paid off in October of this year. Having the numbers right there in front of me made it look so easy.

While I didn’t exactly stick to this payment plan all the way through, I was often times over a month ahead of myself. That felt great. My debts were falling by over $2000 per month. Then I hit the wall.

The good news is that it still appears that I’m ahead of schedule. Basically, without asking you to actually look at the chart, I’m supposed to have a balance of $3535 right now. My actual balance on those accounts is $2547. Just the auto loan.

I’m ahead by $1000. Not as great as I’d hoped, but not bad.

Of course, that’s pretending that the new credit card balance doesn’t exist… which means that I’m actually $500 behind.

Oh yeah, and I just booked $772 worth of airline tickets. Make that $1272 behind.

See what I mean?

I’ve hit the wall.

I’m out of gas.

I dropped the baton.

My train has derailed.

Use whichever disaster analogy you are most comfortable with.

Posted on August 22nd, 2008 at 9:02 am by Brainy Smurf
Finance, Motivation | 5 Comments »

Are 5-Cent Can/Bottle Deposits Better than Credit Card Rewards?

Any soda drinkers out there? How about beer drinkers? Did you ever sit down and think about what a great “cash-back” offer these beverages have attached to them? I guess it depends on which State you live in…

I’m not a beer drinker, so I’m going to use soda in my example. Each week, when we go grocery shopping we pick up at least two 12-packs of soda.

Often times they’re on sale $2.99 each. On super special, you can even find them where they’re 4 for $10. And if you’re really lucky, it’s not unheard of for the grocery stores to offer 5 for $10 deal.

Worst case, at full price, a 12-pack of Coca-Cola runs $4.99. We won’t usually buy it at that price, but I’ll include that in my calculations because there’s always someone out there looking to play devil’s advocate…

So, a 12-pack of Coke can regularly be had for $2.00, $2.50, $2.99, or $4.99.

That works out to an average of $3.12 per 12-pack. Add in 60 cents for the deposit on the 12 cans (5-cents each) and the average per 12-pack price is $3.72.

Thirty-one cents per can.

Keep that in mind the next time you slip a nice crisp dollar bill into a vending machine.

Though the math and percentages don’t change, rather than using such small scale examples, I’m going to go back to my example from this past weekend. We returned 908 cans on Sunday morning.

At a cost of 31-cents per can, the original purchase price for all of that soda would have been $281.48.

Upon returning the cans, we received $45.40 back.

That’s a cash-back reward of over 16%.

Can your credit card beat that?

I doubt it.

I know mine can’t. I’d need to charge $8k to get $50 back… That’s less than 1%.

So be sure to return those cans and reclaim your deposit — it’s a great and rather unheralded deal.

Posted on August 20th, 2008 at 6:11 am by Brainy Smurf
Bargains, Finance | No Comments »

For $45.40/Hour, Strange Old Men and Sticky Hands Aren’t So Bad

This past Sunday morning, my wife and I loaded up the back of her truck with all of our empty soda cans and bottles and headed to the closest grocery store to get a jump on the crowds. It was 7:30 am.

To our dismay, we weren’t the only ones looking to beat the crowds. An elderly man was in there. He didn’t have any returnables but he was “guarding” one of the can machines. That’s okay — there are two more machines that accept cans.

My wife and I proceeded to insert can after can after can after can. Then, my wife machine stopped taking in anymore. Must be full.

She then decided to start feeding the plastic bottle machines. Those weren’t taking any more either. Ugh. She went inside the grocery store to summon some help.

I kept on plugging away at my can machine.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the old guy grabbing cans from my wife’s carriage and feeding them into the machine he was “guarding” when we arrived. I looked over, smiled, then said thanks thinking he was just one of those old friendly guys helping out a nice young lady — my wife.

Then he hit the “Receipt” button and walked out. Um…

Okay, so he stole, like, 80 cents from us. Whatever, he probably needs it more than we do. I wasn’t going to chase him. Still, the nerve of some people!

So my wife returns with a very unfriendly employee who disappears behind a locked door to “fix” the can and bottle machines.

My wife says to me, regarding the can machine that she was feeding before she went inside to get help, “Hey, did you cash out this machine?”

“No.”

Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who cashed it out…

Yeah, the old guy.

He was still milling about the parking lot. We shrugged our shoulders, both agreeing that it wasn’t worth making a scene over, and proceeded to stick can after can into the machines.

Finally, we were left with nothing but plastic bottles. Well, the grocery store employee failed to “fix” those machines.

Good help is so hard to find.

While my wife went back inside the grocery story to claim our loot from the courtesy desk (if you’re unfamiliar with the can machines, they print out voucher receipt things), I started to consolidate all of the plastic bottles that we apparently weren’t going to be able to return today into one cart to make it easier to take back to the truck.

The old guy comes in again.

Apparently, he’s now under the impression that I’m giving HIM the bottles. Not sure where he got that idea.

I’m doing my best to use my body to shield the bottles from his grasp.

He was a little slow, not physically — if you catch my drift, and had some prepared story about donating them to the Boy Scouts or something.

That was probably true, I recall something about the Cub Scouts doing a can and bottle drive, but he’d already “taken” a donation from us earlier. These bottles were mine.

“No, we’re keeping these bottles because the machines aren’t working, thanks…”

I wheeled the cart out to the truck and started tossing them into the bed of the truck back. Then I stood guard.

I had to.

How ridiculous is that? He came out to the truck with his Boy Scout story again. Unbelievable.

“Yeah, no thanks. We’re keeping these bottles.”

Then he walked away, finally, and got into his beat up Ford Taurus station wagon and sloooooooowwwwwly drove away.

At this point, I concluded that he wasn’t collecting stuff for the Boy Scouts. He was collecting them for himself.

Very strange.

His speech was super slow, a little slurred, and he sported a trace of a Polish accent, but like I said, he seemed a little slow. He didn’t appear to be a drunk.

He was far too well put together to be a homeless guy collecting cans. Didn’t smell. His clothes weren’t anything unusual for a guy of his age. Besides, homeless guys are smarter than to hit up can redemption centers at 7:30 am on a Sunday.

My wife finally comes out of the grocery store with cash in hand. In less than an hour, we’d returned 908 cans for $45.40.

Had the plastic bottle machines been up and running, we’d have easily cleared $50.

Not bad for a Sunday morning…

Oh, and yes, I realize that the title of this post can be interpreted several different ways…but get your mind out of the gutter…

Posted on August 19th, 2008 at 6:01 am by Brainy Smurf
Finance | 3 Comments »

PMI Cancellation Request (3rd Attempt)

Hopefully today is the day that my 40 day PMI saga concludes.

Countrywide has corrected Friday’s $1500 mistake and the balance on my mortgage is now less than 78% of the original value.

Even Countrywide’s website says so:

Combine that with the FTC’s claim:

For home mortgages signed on or after July 29, 1999, your PMI must be terminated automatically when you reach 22 percent equity in your home based on the original property value, if your mortgage payments are current. Your PMI also can be canceled, when you request - with certain exceptions - when you reach 20 percent equity in your home based on the original property value, if your mortgage payments are current.

So here goes nothing… I’m going to submit another request to Countrywide to have my PMI canceled.

Hopefully this time I won’t get the same form letter that I’ve already received twice…

Posted on August 18th, 2008 at 7:43 am by Brainy Smurf
PMI - Mortgage Insurance | 6 Comments »

Uncomfortable Social Situations

Ever get stuck talking to someone that you’d really rather not be stuck talking to?

I’m not talking about how sometimes it seems like you’re the go-to guy when someone needs the time or something. Though I don’t wear a watch, and that’s plainly visible to all around me, it seems that anytime I’m in a public place, a stranger will single me out and ask if I have the time.

Because I don’t regularly carry a cell phone either, the answer has always been, “Nope, sorry…”

Anyway, last weekend at the casino while waiting in line (for 3+ hours) to get into the They Might Be Giants show, we ended up behind a kid that was by himself.

I’m not one to judge — actually, I am, but I wasn’t on this occasion… I’ve gone to concerts by myself too. It’s one of those things that you almost have to do when you’re not really into Top 40 or mainstream music. Or hockey. Why doesn’t anyone like hockey?

Anyway, to better pass the time, pretty much everyone who stands in line by themselves is sorta looking for someone to talk to and something to talk about.

While I would have been perfectly happy silently observing people at the blackjack tables right near us, or just commenting on all the people walking by with my wife, this kid needed to talk to someone and I was the someone because I just happened to be the guy right behind him.

At first, it was a pleasant banter like, “How many times have you seen TMBG?” or “Where are you guys from?”

That’s fine. I answered honestly and kinda figured the conversation that I wasn’t real keen on having anyway would fizzle out in a few minutes and I could go back to playing blackjack over some stranger’s shoulder.

But he wouldn’t stop. And he was weird!

“I play bass in a two man band. That’s all I have to say about that…” And then he’d, like, air guitar some bass lines and wiggle his fingers.

Um… Okay?

I mean, how am I supposed to pleasantly respond to that? In any other situation, I would have smiled politely and walked away, but I wasn’t about to give up my place in line.

As the time passed, and more awkward moments ensued, he decided that we should list the TMBG songs that we hate.

Yeah, that’s a great idea. Here we are standing in line to see a band that we supposedly both like a lot, so let’s list out their songs that suck. Yep, that sounds fun…

Huh?

I played along and apparently every song that I wasn’t real fond of (or pretended not to like) was one of his favorites. I get it; he wants to be Mr. Confrontational.

This whole time, I’m thinking, “Please let this conversation end.”

Then he went on a bit of a tangent talking about how he works a dead-end nightshift job at a gas station and how sometimes guys in their 60’s will come in to buy cigarettes or something and say “Hey there, what kind of music do you listen to?” and he responds with something rude like, “Yeah, let’s not go there. We’re just wasting both of our times…” because he’s in to bands like, well, he listed off a bunch of indie crap that I’d never heard of.

Now I’m thinking, okay, not only is this kid a social weirdo, he’s a rude jerk too… I should have told him an hour ago that I didn’t really want to talk to him… Too late for that now…

I told him my second favorite band was the Jonas Brothers… No, I’m just kidding.

Then he started to list off all of the TMBG albums he had as if to impress me or something. Yeah, kid, of the 200 or so people standing in this line, I’m pretty sure 80% of them have every album you do. Then he started contradicting statements he’d made earlier when listing the songs he hated…

“Yeah, this song sucks, this one too, that one… Basically tracks 1-12 are terrible.” An hour later, to him, that album “was a pretty strong record. That’s all I have to say about that.” Sigh…

Apparently, “That’s all I have to say about that” was his tagline. He didn’t say it like Forrest Gump, but I couldn’t help but hear it that way.

Then he started quizzing me so as to show me up or something. I think that in some ways I surprised him with my knowledge. I mean, physically, I don’t scream psycho fanatical fan of a band few have ever heard of. But at the same time, I do happen to know about as much as those psycho fanatical fans. I just keep it in the closet.

Fine, you can be the bigger fan than me — that’s fine. I let him win. I’m perfectly happy owning all of the albums, knowing all of the words, and going to a concert or two every time they come to my area. He can be the guy who drives 8 hours for free shows for a band that endlessly tours in New England anyway and recite set lists of shows he never attended. (Kinda reminds me of those guys in high school that could recite the batting order of the 1927 NY Yankees, but wouldn’t actually swing a bat in gym class…)

Then, as if he hadn’t said enough, he started to get all philosophical… Talking about how such and such an album was the soundtrack to a really nostalgic part of his life…

Um, yeah, I really don’t care. That’s your life, not mine, and quite honestly, yeah, I just really don’t care. Of course, I didn’t vocalize my thoughts…

Finally, around a half hour passed without him saying anything… I thought I was home free.

Then he turned around and said, “Have we met before because you look really familiar?”

Having never actually been inside a gas station before, I said, “Nope, don’t think so. Unless you were at this show last year. Or the year before. Or at a show in Lenox, Massachusetts back in 1992…”

At the mention of 1992, he was shocked and asked, “How old are you?” I told him I’d be 32 in a few days… He said he was 25. Hmmm, might explain why we had pretty much nothing in common (other than this band).

He turned back around. It was at his time that I started to do a little math in my head… The album that he claimed to be the soundtrack of the most nostalgic time in his life came out in 1990. He would have been seven.

I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t having many eventful life altering moments when I was seven. At the very least, nothing that I would call “nostalgic” to a complete stranger.

I had some pretty sweet birthday parties at that age and a few nasty wipe-outs on my bike that I recall, but really, nothing that would make me all misty eyed now thinking of days gone by. Maybe that time I drew a moustache on myself with a sharpie. Nah, that was just cool.

Then, as luck would have it, a weathered sketchy dude (there are a lot of them at the casino) came up to the line, like many passersby do, and asked who was playing tonight. The kid responded, “They Might Be Giants”.

The dude, looked over at my wife and said, “Smurfette?”

Sketchy Galore knew my wife!

Nice guy, but the type that you’d almost expect to find at a casino. Yeah, that sounds like a dig, and it sort of is, but I really had nothing against him. He seemed like a nice personable guy and better yet, he’d actually seen They Might Be Giants before. Probably back around 1992… Basically, in this line and at the time, he was an ally that I wanted to have. Gave me some street cred — through association.

He hadn’t seen my wife in over a decade so it was a really neat moment (dare I say nostalgic?) for her.

For me, I was like, cool, this guy probably scares the crap out of the kid in front of me and now that he can see that we’re like friends or something, he’ll leave me alone.

He and my wife caught up for a few minutes and at the end, they sighed, “Small world… Great seeing you.”

I was thinking to myself, yep, small world but a big freakin’ casino.

Now, last year I mentioned that one of the members of the band, John Flansburgh, worked the line handing out stickers before the show and how I was shocked that no one in the line seemed to know who he was. Honestly, they treated him like an average roadie or something.

This year, about an hour before show time, the other member of the band, John Linnell, walked right by the line twice in an “I’m lost” sort of way (obviously trying to get his bearings before finding something to eat before the show). My wife noticed him, gave me the nudge, and I was like, holy crap, that really is him. Cool.

Again, this year, no one in the line noticed it.

Even the kid in front of me didn’t acknowledge it. Wait a minute, this kid was just claiming to be their biggest fan ever and he doesn’t even know what they look like… What’s up with that?

As if it couldn’t get any worse, he turned back around and said, “You know, you look like a combination of two people I know…”

I snidely responded, “Oh, you’ve met my parents?”

This response got a chuckle out of the woman behind me in line. I had a feeling she was feeling my pain listening in to this epic conversation that was clearly uncomfortable from the start. She lucked out and chatted with my wife for a bit while I was stuck keeping the socially challenged occupied…

When the venue finally opened, we thankfully weren’t seated at the same table as him… Big sigh of relief.

This year, again, we were to the left of the stage, but also again, less than 10 feet from the band.

Total bill for the night was $4.

Tonight’s free show is Charo. Cuchi-cuchi!

Speaking of Charo – the kid in front of me had never heard of her… Does he live in a cave? She even did a Geico commercial?!

Anyway, we’re not going… Can you imagine the people in that line?

Posted on August 16th, 2008 at 6:48 am by Brainy Smurf
Life, Music | 1 Comment »

Searching for a ‘New’ Car with 150k Miles on It

So we are looking for a car.

It’s the season.

We lost the Sable when a deer slammed into it.

That left us two vehicles — our intrepid 1995 Taurus and our diligent and appropriately appointed 1991 Volkswagen Fox.

As you can see, we do not buy new cars here.

Although, that was not always the case.

Early in our married life together, when the future looked bright in every way, Mary and I bought two new cars back to back.

The first was stingy on gas and practical — a Plymouth Horizon. You remember, Plymouth’s answer to the VW Rabbit. The car was ice blue, with cloth seats and got over 30 miles to the gallon around town and better on the highway. And Mary and I took good care of that car.

Until the car was rear-ended as she waited to enter I-91.

Then, we bought our navy blue Taurus wagon. If we could have, we would still be driving it. But the car bottomed out at 216,000 miles. Who says American cars can’t break 200,000? At the end, the car could not make it up Kelly’s Hill, and we let it go.

Since then, it has been a menagerie of cars, mostly Volvo wagons with over 200,000 miles on them, and Tauruses with over 150,000. The kids, who were so young once, do not quite remember the salad days when we drove new cars. They pine for something that looks good and runs well.

And this, I confess, makes me a bad father because I continue to settle on these old clunkers with no car payments and short lives. At least, they are safe, but even now I worry because the Fox does not have airbags.

So we are looking for a car.

This is how I go about it.

I get on the internet and check craigslist. You can find anything on craigslist, especially, cars, car parts, whatever might have once resembled a car to an actual fine car with a pedigree like a Benz or Lexus.

When I find cars, I email the link to my kids for their approval.

For instance, I found an Escort in Southington, whose owner was just tired of the car and wanted to get rid of it for $500. Bingo.

Then there was a 1988 Honda Accord in Meriden. The car had 139,000 original miles. A Honda with 139,000 miles. Come on, that is like a new car, even though it was built in 1988.

The list goes on, but you get the point.

From there, we looked at cars in Manchester, Norwich, and Norwalk.

I didn’t stop.

I found a Saab in Manchester, N.H., that looked good and added it to the list.

“Dad, what are you doing?” one kid asked me. “I called for that Saab. It’s in New Hampshire. The guy who answered the phone told me I was crazy to drive all that way for an $800 car.”

“Come on,” I said, “it would be fun. We’ll drive up, spend time with Uncle Harold, and check out the car.”

Of course, I have no idea what registering an out of state car would be like, and would I really like to be driving back and forth to complete the paperwork.

Heck, it sounded like a good idea.

Another choice was the 1983 BMW 320i with only 140,000 miles on it. That would be a fun car to own.

And it would fit our budget.

I did tell you I’m working with a budget — between $500 and $700.

I feel somewhat guilty about that.

I mean how good can a car that’s going for that paltry sum really be?

I’m going to be sending my kids out in one of these. Am I crazy?

“Dad,” I heard from one of the 20-somethings, “you know I’m not materialistic, having grown up in this household, but I do think aesthetics are important.”

Aesthetics.

Just to make sure I knew what was being addressed I looked up the definition: Webster’s Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary states: “1. a branch of philosophy dealing with the nature of the beautiful and with judgments concerning beauty 2. the description and explanation of artistic phenomena and aesthetic experience by means of other sciences.”

It was two days later when I responded, “I’ve been thinking about what you said about aesthetics. I’ll tell you what aesthetics is. Aesthetics is getting from point A to point B with good gas mileage and safely.”

“I figured.”

Go figure.

At least I know all the money we’re spending on college and not on cars, isn’t going to waste.

This was a freelance column in the local weekly in town. You know, the page in the middle that’s geared towards the blue-hairs out there.

I wouldn’t be shocked to learn that I’m lone reader in the 18-35 age demographic for the entire newspaper, actually, not just the middle page. Yes, the type is even larger on this page. I’m not kidding.

Anyway, I just though it was a neat story and, to a certain degree, something that I wish I could do.

Just think — a $500 car would only have to last around 60 days before you’d be saving substantial money by driving it. Best of all, you could theoretically have a “new” car every few months. That’d be pretty neat.

My only hurdle is the fact that I don’t really know anything about servicing a car. I mean, I can change a tire and even top-up the washer fluid (though I’ve only done that once), but that’s where I draw the line.

So, obviously, I’m not a great candidate for driving a clunker on its last legs.

Posted on August 15th, 2008 at 1:21 pm by Brainy Smurf
Bargains, Cutting Costs, Life | No Comments »