Many people are weary of discussing their personal finances with the people around them. Personally, I don’t see why this is. I’m not saying that your financial situation is anyone else’s business, but neither are many of the things that we disclose on a daily basis. One thing is certain, though; people are funny about their money.

I don’t think anyone should ever be ashamed of what they have, or what they don’t. As a person who grew up “poor” by some standards, I can only speak from experience about the latter. Even still, not having a lot is often a situation of circumstance, much like a disability or the color of your skin. In many situations, it’s not something that you can control, especially from a young age. This was a difficult lesson to learn as a child, but I’m happy to say that I’ve risen above many of those feelings of inferiority due to my lack of material posessions (or, more often than not, the illusion of lacking material posessions!).

Funny story. There is a game that many of us inaffluent people play, which is informally known as  ”Who Was Poorer As A Kid”. It’s a good-hearted game, allowing everyone to get to know one another better by lovingly poking fun at our own dysfunctional childhoods. As with any competition, I ALWAYS WIN. I’d like to share one of my token crowd-pleasers:

I have one sister, Brandy, and she is seven years older than myself. Our elementary/middle school was a K-8, which meant that for my first year of school she and I had to ride the same schoolbus. My mother insisted that she let me sit with her, and I remember her constantly complaining that I was embarassing her in front of all her eighth grade friends. I would cry, I would sneeze, I would babble…but most importantly, I wasn’t mature enough yet to help aid in her facade that we were more wealthy than she let on. You know how children are, brutally honest without even a hint of shame. Well, before I began school my sister had been known to walk to a neighbor’s house to be picked up from because she was embarassed for her classmates to see the singlewide trailer that we lived in instead. I can’t say I blame her. It was a tiny tin can of a home with horizontal green stripes, holes in the roof and it was so small that we used our non-functioning dishwasher for storage. Because of our home and our last name, Saylor, the kids used to tease her by singing “Brandy the sailor man, who lived in a garbage can” …but that’s her story to tell.

So here we are on the schoolbus one day, her laughing with her friends and me drawing little hearts in the condensation of the bus windows (why yes, I was always the strapping young man that you know today) when all of a sudden, for the 17th time that week, I dropped my lunch Thermos onto the floor and watched it roll under the seats towards the front of the bus. Let me pause for a moment and go ahead and mention that I was the pickiest poor child that you’ve ever seen in your life. Although we couldn’t always afford milk or juice, I refused to drink water and I’d go for days if I had to with nothing at all if it meant guilting my mom into scrounging up the money to buy me what I wanted instead. She’s a great person, my mother; the greatest. But I wish she’d have beaten the hell out of me for being such an ungrateful little shit. Anyway, one thing I would drink was coffee (IN KINDERGARTEN, mind you!) and sometimes she would let me have some, all light and sweet, because it was cheaper to obtain than soda and we always had it in the house for her and my dad. Such was the case on this particular day, and as my Thermos cracked open and rolled around beneath everyone’s seats, it was no longer just our little secret. A bus-full of sleepy children were instantly awoken to the aroma of freshly-brewed, inappropriately-administered Maxwell House.

My sister was mortified. Understandably. The bus driver asked me, also understandably, ”What in the world are you doing drinking coffee?” Instead of taking one for the team and owning up to the fact that I really did like when Mama let me drink coffee, I defended my honor the best I knew how. “Because we didn’t have anything else to drink!”

I’m sure my sister’s heart exploded at that very moment. She tried to dismiss my story quickly.

“Yes we did.”

“No, we didn’t.”

Poor, Brandy, she was trying to avoid looking poor with all her might. Unfortunately, I was as stubborn as I was naive, and I was not to be proven wrong.

 ”YES, we did!”

“NO, we didn’t!”

“Shut up, Thomas! We had lots of drinks, you just didn’t see them!!”

“Then WHERE were they?

“IN THE DISHWASHER!!!!”

At that very moment everyone except Brandy burst into laughter. Then  came the simultaneous, inavoidable question.

“In…the dishwasher?”

While my sister struggled to dig herself out of the destitute hole we had made for ourselves, I went back to my window art certain that, coffee or no coffee, I had saved myself from a potentially embarassing situation.

Today, 17 years later, I have about the same amount of discretion when it comes to matters of the purse. That’s why I wanted to tell you about my most recent accomplishment. Two and a half years ago I joined a debt management program because I was unemployed and having trouble making the minimum payments on my credit cards. You know the story. You miss a payment, you get a late fee and a finance charge, then the two of those bring your balance higher than your available credit and you get hit with an overlimit fee…multiply that by five credit cards on an imaginary income and you’ve got yourself a problem you can’t correct easily. I was nervous about joining a DMP…you hear people say things about how they hurt your credit and about how they steal your money…but let me tell you, when you’re 90 days behind on your payments you’re willing to try anything. It turned out to be the best move I could have made besides, of course, not getting into college credit card debt in the first place. Just in case you didn’t know, being a part of a DMP does not harm your credit score in any way. What it does, though, is make a note on each of your credit reports that you are working with a third party debt management company, which may or may not affect whether or not you will be approved for new credit while you are in the program. This is simply a case-by-case situation, though, being that many banks rely solely on your numerical score, not the contents of your entire credit file. Either way, if you find yourself in a situation like I was in, you have no business applying for new credit anyway! Moving on, the way it works is that you pay someone directly one lump sum each month and they, in turn,  pay your creditors on previously agreed-upon terms. Creditors look favorably on this option, because they know they are more likely to receive steady payments in a timely fashion while you’re participating in the program. In turn, many of them offer lower interest rates, waived fees and other financial “benefits” as long as you abide by the agreements in the program. As for the “middle-man”, the debt management company, they receive a small monthly fee which is based on how much work it takes to manage your account (amount of debt, number of creditors, etc.). This is nominal and gets lower and lower and you progress in the program, and is a steal when compared to the amount of money you save in DMP benefits.

Now, I want to make clear that I’m not trying to “sell” anybody on anything (besides maybe a homemade goodie from Thomas Saylor Designs! ) and I wouldn’t dare encourage anyone to spend beyond their means and find themselves in a rut like I’ve described. I can say, though, that for me, this was my best option towards financial freedom. Speaking only for myself, it was the right decision. My credit card debt was incurred as a result of moving out on my own far too early, and not recognizing soon enough that nothing is certain, not even your paycheck.

So here comes my good news: Yesterday morning I made the final payment to my debt management program. Two and a half years of hard work never felt so rewarding! I now have a little spare money in my pocket and a credit score that is own the way to new heights. Not to mention a valuable lesson in economics: Never spend more than you have and, for God’s sake, DON’T STORE YOUR SODAS IN THE DISHWASHER!

As I mentioned earlier, Chris and I have embarked on a new diet for the new year. The idea is to establish a healthier lifestyle and shed a few pounds for our big day. For me, this is a struggle. You all know that I love McDonald’s more than Perez Hilton loves little boys, and I could practically soar around the Drive-Thru from start to finish with my eyes closed. Fast food makes me happy. Period. Bad hair days, sobbing babies, Gonorrhea…none of it matters while I’m eating. Just me and my french fries, alone in the world. It’s the greatest love story never told, you know.

Our diet officially started this past Monday, and it’s fairly simple. No complex recipes or witch-like concoctions; A shake for breakfast, a shake for lunch, and a sensible dinner. Technically, we’re not doing the “Slim-Fast” diet because Slim-Fast is currently on recall, at least in the can. We picked up Boost instead, and it tastes about the same and has similar nutritional value. We’re supplementing our meals with fresh fruit and 100 Calorie Pack snacks, and drinking lots of water. Oh, and absolutely no soda…this is truly the greatest obstacle. I’ve been off the sauce for 6 days, though, and let me tell ya…you haven’t truly come down until you’ve suffered an abrupt stop from a Mountain Dew high. It is sweet nectar from the gods and I miss having it in my life.

Some things I’ve learned so far; One, a full serving of Boost is not as filling as one might think. Two, baked Cheetos are not the same as regular Cheetos. At all. And three, when someone appears absent-minded, it’s not that they are disiniterested in you…they’re just hungry. So very hungry. I swear, this week someone at work would be talking to me about the weather and, although I would try to smile and nod in all the right places, in the back of my back I was thinking “Bitch, if you don’t hand over a double cheeseburger I’m going to bite your face off.”

So far I’ve lost 2 pounds and the very essence of my being. Wish me luck in week two, and of course I will keep you posted.

"The Way We Were" February 1st, 2007

The picture above was taking the night Chris and I met. As I sit here typing this post, it’s hard for me to remember the person I was back then. Those were the days of loud music and embarrassing photographs…of Ramen Noodle dinner parties and name brand clothing… Those were the days I would pay my cell phone bill before my electric bill, and would arrive to work still drunk from the night before. Those were the days my heart was hollow and my life was incomplete. Those were the days before I knew the man who would become the love of my life.

Three years later, I am living the life I would have never thought possible. Each day is a party, each day is a high. Each day is the greatest day of my life.

Editor’s note: I recommend listening to the following audio selection while reading the rest of this post. It will help set the mood.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

It is with a joyous heart that I make the following announcement: On February 18th, 2010, I am going to MARRY MY SOULMATE!!!!

Chris and I are getting married in Darien, Connecticut. We’ve been talking about it for a while now, and the timing is finally right.  I’m beyond ecstatic!!! I don’t know all of the details yet, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you guys the good news. We are still looking into things and making final decisions…but I DO know that we’re going to honeymoon in New York, my favorite place in the world! We still have so much to plan…rings, travel accommodations, WARDROBE!! I will keep you all posted on the news to come.

I’M GOING TO BE A BRIDE!!!

I cannot express how much it means to me to be at this step in my life. There was a time when I didn’t think anyone would ever like me, let alone love me, and here I am about to marry the greatest person I’ve ever known.  I mean, this is the guy who’s seen what I look like first thing in the morning and hasn’t run away yet! Talk about being blessed. It’s also comforting to know I’ll always have a man around to squash bugs, pump gas, and perform all the other husband duties of that nature.

I appreciate all the love and support we’ve already received upon making this decision. We live in a world that would like to take this right away from us, but luckily the good folks in Connecticut are doing their part to make a difference.

I promise there will be much more time come in regards to wedding plans! Yay!

I’m an extremely competitive person. I like to be the best at whatever I do. Not to say that everything is a competition, I know better than that. I simply want to compare my life to others and see who wins.

This can be a bad thing, of course, but it can also be good. Some of my greatest accomplishments are due to the fact that I wanted to be better than somebody else; good grades in school, productivity at work, the ability to stand on my head longer than anyone else I know without passing out. What? I didn’t say they were all useful accomplishments.

My latest obsession is a Facebook game called Bejeweled Blitz. The actual Bejeweled game has been around forever, but this particular version (released by Pop Cap) is a hand-held edition that I can play right on my iPhone (convenient!) and it syncs with the Facebook version which allows you to battle top scores with all your Facebook friends (DOMINATION!!). Getting friends together for board games is all fine and well, but there is just something about the immediate satisfaction of seeing your score high above your friends in a tangible, non-debatable numeric fashion! Oh, it’s just too much to handle, you guys. And best of all? I can be better than someone else practically anytime, anywhere. With my iPhone in hand, I can open a can of Bejeweled whoop-ass right from the privacy of my bathroom toilet. Enter disturbing visual right about…now.

Recently I beat my highest score ever on Bejeweled, which was nice…but more importantly, I was able to once-again shimmy on past Chris’ high score and, of course, rub it in his face for days and days. That always leads to a series of affectionate dialogues like this one:

Oh, and you’ll notice in the picture above that I’m not in top place out of all my Facebook friends. The first and second spots belong to Zachary Zabarsky and Jonathan Britton, respectively. Those two are freaks of nature and should be destroyed.

Anyway, to continue on in my theme of competitiveness, I wanted to share with you the first of my many New Year’s resolutions: I’ve decided that sometime in the year 2010 I am going to get back down to the weight I was when Chris and I met. For the sake of my vanity, I won’t divulge my current weight, but know that it is twenty pounds heavier than what it was just 3 years ago, and that bothers me a great deal. Growing up is fine, but growing outwards is a step I’m not yet ready to accept. Chris is going to diet with me, and we are both dreading the end of our fast food lifestyle more than the Apocalypse. I’m not even going to lie. I would slap your mother for a glass of Mountain Dew, and it’s going to be hard to give that up. To make things more enjoyable, I suggested we keep count of our calories each day and discuss our results each evening. Not a competition in any way, I would never suggest that. We’re just going to tell each other how much we ate and see who wins.

I look forward to putting Chris to shame becoming healthier together in 2010.

It’s the simple things in life that are the most extraordinary.

You know how sometimes we look back at the year behind us and think of all the wonderful things it brought…and suddenly we feel so overwhelmed with indebtedness to the universe for all the happiness in the world that we become afraid that our hearts might explode but then, hey, who cares, right, because everything and everyone is so magical and great and rainbows and unicorns that nothing can get us down, not even a gratitude-induced cardiac arrest?

Yeah, 2009 was not that year for me.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a myriad of things that I should be thankful for, and I am. I really am. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t realize my huge populace of blessings, each of which I do not deserve.  But 2009 has been rough. Emotionally, financially, gynecologically…okay, maybe not gynecologically. But burdensome nonetheless.

It sounds eerily similar to what I said a year ago, but I want 2010 to be different. By the way, that reminds me…do you guys realize that January marks the one-year anniversary here at YourDailyThomas.com? For 365 solid days you have all listened to me ramble incessantly about everything from childhood memories to canine rectal exams. Thanks for that. I’m going to go ahead and file that in the “rainbows and unicorns” folder in my mind. Anyway, I’m hoping with all my might that I have more positive things to write about in 2010, and if I’m really lucky maybe even a few gynecological adventures.

I’m planning on working up my list of New Year’s resolutions in the days to come. I will, of course, post them here so that I can look back later and see how many of them I gave up on by February. In the meantime, I thought I would share this video I saw on BeyonceWorld.net today which I thought was fun and appropriate for this post. It is a mash-up music video by DJ Earworm featuring all of the top 25 Billboard hits of the year. And, no, haters, it’s not all Beyonce, although she did have 2 of the top 25 hits. Heller!

I’m a little late in posting this, but I wanted to share this with you all. It’s no surprise that we love animals here in the Saylor-Tillery household, and we have a house full of them to prove it. I would not have it any other way.

What you may not know about me is that I don’t personally believe in the act of breeding and mass-reproduction of animals, for sale or otherwise.  According to the Humane Society of the United States, four million cats and dogs – about one every 8 seconds – are put down in U.S. shelters each year. These animals are the products of pet overpopulation, and many of them could have made wonderful pets. Between six and eight million dogs and cats enter U.S. shelters each year, far too many to all find homes.

I believe that the solution to this problem is twofold; 1) take the time to spay/neuter your pets. It’s inexpensive, minimally invasive and a one-time step to ensure that you are doing your part to not end up with more pets than you can handle. 2) consider adopting your next pet from an animal shelter. Continuing to support the breeding of more animals when there are so many homeless bundles of joy in the world is just brutal and oblivious. Chris and I have adopted two dogs from our local shelter, and both of them have proven to be the smartest, healthiest, most loving pets I’ve ever known.

Because our experiences have led to such a happy ending, I recently submitted a success story to the Humane Society of Eastern Carolina to be considered for submission on their website. They were exceptionally friendly and eager to share our story with the world. Special thanks to webmaster Tina and assistant facility manager Katie for their kindness and assistance. Keep in mind that this was right around the time that we were in initial discussions of adding our second dog, so Tess is notably absent from the post. You can read about how Riley has changed our life by clicking here, and you can read stories of other happy pet-owners by clicking here.

All I want for Christmas is… a nap! This has been the busiest, most hectic holiday season I’ve ever experienced! Coincidentally, I was actually on vacation all week, but my yuletide responsibilities more than made up for my usual work schedule. I think I mentioned earlier how my family can be exhausting, right? Well this Christmas was no exception, but we had a lot of fun. Let’s see…some notable highlights would include my uncle Jeff describing to my Dad and step-mom, in great detail, the kinds of pictures that could be found on my Facebook profile. More specifically, this one, this one, and this one. This is the same uncle who once gave out INACTIVATED gifts cards to all his friends as Christmas gifts… and when they all asked him how much money was on them, he said “Just spend it until you can’t spend it anymore.” This, my friends, is why you cannot accept friend requests from your family. Luckily, all my really embarrassing party photos aren’t on Facebook.

Also amusing was my forced participation in the Secret Santa gift exchange. See, in my family, all the adults bring a present appropriate for their gender. So the men bring a gift labelled “Man” and the women bring a gift labelled “Woman”, and everyone exchanges randomly therein. Because I have the greatest grandma in the world, I usually still fall into that grey category between children and adults and that means I don’t have to bring a present. However, my Dad somehow ended up with his own present and insisted that I take it. You can imagine why I would be leery about accepting a package labeled “Man”, as there are very slim chances of me getting anything I could actually use. You just know that if you’re a male you’re going to end up with tools or a gift card to Lowe’s, neither of which will make me prettier or more fragrant in any way. While ripping open the gift I declared out loud “If this is a wrench set I’m going to kill myself.” Be ye not so afraid…it turned out to be a socket set instead.

Chris made lots of goodies for me to bring to my family for Christmas, and both they and I were touched by the gesture. No, my family still hasn’t shown an interest for joint celebration, which is disappointing…but if their reaction to his homemade fudge, peanut brittle and sausage balls are any inclination of their future acceptance of his man parts, we’ll be across that bridge soon enough. You all know I don’t do the cooking thing, but I’d secretly hoped to take credit for at least one of the dishes as my own. Consider my dreams squashed as I arrived with armfuls of treats and my entire family bowled over with laughter at the thought of me making them myself. Martha would be so disappointed.

My mom loves pictures. Every year we always have to pose for an inordinate amount of photos, all of which are the exact same with additions and subtractions of generations each time. “First, let’s get all the children and grandchildren… okay, next, let’s have everyone who is old enough to remember Hee Haw, in order by birthdate!” I’m sure you’re wondering what her solution is for storing all these individual treasures. It’s simple, really. She wants every single one of them blown up as an 8×10. It is an absolute nightmare. Mama and her camera are more damaging to one’s holiday spirit than a DUI on the way back from a Christmas Eve beer run.

Speaking of pictures, there was one very high point in this week’s festivities. Chris’ sister Kim invited me to take family portraits with them and her daughters. I was so honored to be included! Kim has treated me like her brother in law since the day I met her, and it’s such a relief to have family that accepts you no matter what. There were lots of giggles and smiles, and the portraits we took will always mean so much to me. I am not very comfortable in front of a camera, of course, but I had more fun with them that day than I’ve ever had with a photographer, and that includes that week I spent modeling for Playgirl. I will post pictures soon. Of the family, not of Playgirl. I’m saving that for Valentine’s Day.