February 19, 2015

The F*ing Folder: The Saga Continues


Yes, I was on the yearbook committee a couple years in high school.  Sometimes I feel that question is on the tip of everyone’s tongue when I meet them or when they’ve known me for years or when they have read my blog for years or even a day…  and today I am ready to spill.  I was.  At least 2 years. But who can remember how long they did anything before they were 20. And if we’re being realistic…  who can remember what fucking happened yesterday sometimes. 


It was a good time in life.  I had finished my “real” classes, and the teacher was kinda awesome and funny and cool. And my super most-perverted and hilarious friends were in Yearbook too.  So there were lots of antics and fun and silliness and days when our teacher thought we all sucked. But that’s all in the life of…  insert character here.


So I lived it, loved it, didn’t work toooooo hard there.  I saved that hard work for, well, something else, I imagine.  And that was before you had a computer app or program that you speak to in any language…  “insert picture here” to make a flawless yearbook.  This was in the old days when we had to draw the pictures with our homemade pens.  Okay, I am exaggerating a tiny bit.  But why have these memories been dredged up?  Well, because of that damn folder again, the one my son brings home from school.  I promised in the last post never to open it again…  But turns out my son might fail school if I don’t.  And let’s just say since he flipped off another kid in art—things are tentative.  I have to “show up” as a mom, at least until a couple more kids do the mighty middle finger and erase memories of my wild child’s infraction. 


So I get this black and white and varying shades of gray notification that “Yearbooks On Sale Now!”  The English doesn’t translate well on that, but forgive the poor grammar for a moment.  The first price I read for the SOFT cover is $33.25. 


And pause. 


Because I like to think before I react. 

Are you fucking kidding me?!  And that was it.  I thought about it.  And…  reacting in my usual subtle hues…


First of all, there’s a soft or hard cover?! Really? Where’s the fucking digital version?  Isn’t that less?  Can I download it on my kindle for like $9.99? 


Why would my child need a HARD cover version anyway?  To put in our family library?  They are going to forget the damn thing halfway through the summer anyway. 


Where’s the rating?  Five stars?  Less?  Why?  How will I know how much I want to pay for this if I don’t know what other consumers think of it? 


BUT OH WAIT!  There are several packages! Oh freaking perfect!  Not only am I irritated that there is hard and soft version that cost as much as my designer handbag…  Please…  don’t judge.  You can get a designer handbag for $33.25… in China, in a back alley, in a locked room, where you have to give up your virginity and post pictures on facebook and like their page and yelp it and you get the idea…  So yes, I have a designer handbag for $33.25.  And less self-esteem and self-respect.  Whatever.  But a yearbook!  Where’s the back alley? Show me the way!  Sure, I’m not a virgin anymore, but in a dark alley…  okay, I erased what I wrote the first time…  Feeling generous to your morality today.


Too much?  Not yet? Still some takers? 


Okay, cause I have more.  BELOW the designer bag prices are several packages you can choose from…  Apparently the price I felt quoted when I picked up the fucking price list was the Package A CHOICE. Choice means I get to choose another package if I’d like….  you know, like options.  Handbag in the alley or in daylight…  without the logo on the bag or with? 


And I scan to the lowest price I can find… Standard Yearbook…  Soft Cover $25.00. Perfect.  That’s me.  I mean, that’s my son, soft cover. My second grade son.  Ok, now I know why my mom never bought us yearbooks…  besides keeping her dignity… she knew we wouldn’t give a shit who we went to school with in 25 years…  and not only that, but we would have our yearbooks packed away in a storage unit with a bunch of other crap we’d never go through.  Find a friend with a yearbook, son!  And maybe steal it before they get it signed.  Pick the kid who stole all your Skylanders… the ones you brought in to show on ‘I’m a Star’ week…  Take his yearbook and sign the shit out of it… And then say, “What?  You lost your yearbook?  Sorry about that.  If I had my Skylanders, I could probably find it for you!” 


I feel my karma depleting as I write this…  And I’m not as mad as I was when I started it.  But I should still finish, right?! 


There are Packages A through D, and the standard yearbook…  and get this… fucking fancy…


A La Carte Options!!!  Seriously?  If only I could write about the China Designer Handbag options!!!  This I get! 


But what the hell is a “yearbook sticky”?  You understand why I’m concerned, right?!  And an “Autograph Insert”?  You mean, as opposed to writing on the pages in the book?  You mean an additional page that will get lost?  Perfect!  Sign me up….  for ten of those…  so I can replace the ten we lose between the time my second grader gets the yearbook and the yearbook actually gets home…  sans insert. 


Boy, I am tired of getting things in that folder, and I am NOT tired of the folder theme for my blog posts yet.  It’s so not over.  It might not be over for years.  I love the announcements with absolutely no helpful information, but I have learned to love, and by that I mean hate, the announcements with too many freaking options and prices that are exorbitant.  Example… you read it. 


Hey school, thanks for the invite to that fundraiser last week and thanks for the opportunity to do a fun run in 2 weeks and donate to my child, which, of course, I will.  Because I can’t stand the look on his face if I say I won’t. 


Big sigh.  I’m done. And I may have gone overboard.  I am probably most mad at myself prematurely, for giving in to the requests that will no doubt catapult my buying price to the top of the pyramid for this yearbook.  I am probably happy that I had a chance to reformat the sheet so my son does not know there are actually five choices and an a la carte menu, maybe I won’t pay the top price?  I am probably uncertain whether I should be working right now to pay for this measure or just writing about it on my blog that I share for free.  And I am completely in awe of my ability to make a positive about anything.  I am most grateful for that. 


So, buy a damn yearbook this year for your kid.  And try not to notice the GDP of any third world country, insinuating your child does not in fact need that yearbook.  And give up ideas of any cushy nursing home.  This isn’t the last flyer that’s coming home this year, my friend.  There are more designer bags to buy! 


Love to you and yours today.  Don’t call me.  I can’t go out. My budget is blown this month.  And I have been sent to treatment for my dirty mouth.  Working hard to be a better person… next week.