Tag Archives: sugar daddy

Pwned by family: Project renamed Operation Silver Fox

Pwn: v. Pwn is a slang term from Internet gaming, derived from the word “own”, that implies domination or humiliation of a rival (or in this case a parent)

My children have informed me that I am not to seek a sugar daddy (see yesterday’s post on this important topic).  And I have to admit their reasoning is sound.

#2 Son says:

a Sugar Daddy is a fat dude wearing a gold chain at a strip club who exchanges goods (da monies) for services (da sexytime).  This is not the image I want to have of my mother.

When he puts it like that, I definitely get the point. Yuck. Gold chain! Probably wears a pinky ring too. Double yuck. OK – scratch Operation Sugar Daddy. It hadn’t exactly gotten off the ground anyway.

If I’m going to embark on this mission, they say I should shoot for a more positive name, like “Operation Silver Fox”. Son #2 continues:

…Think silver fox, Mom. Think Sean Connery, Robert Redford, Richard Gere…

Richard Gere! Now we’re talkin’  – and he can even dance! Who cares if he knows which end of a hammer to use on a nail.

Operation Silver Fox it is.

Even with this name change, my daughter isn’t convinced that my eggs are in the right basket. I think she wants me to reduce expenses – sell the house and move into a mud hut.  In all fairness, she’s got a right to be wary – her 80- year-old mother-in-law has been living with them for five years and probably won’t be leaving except on a litter.

But she’s willing to play along for awhile if I put some thinking in to how I’ll brand and market myself.

“What’s your strategic plan, Mom?” she asks.

I’m thinking. I’m thinking.


Postponing penury: Operation Sugar Daddy

Postpone: v. to put off into the future

Penury: n. an oppressive lack of resources (as money) ; severe poverty

I have a predicament, no doubt shared by many single women in this time of economic hardship. I live in a house I love. It’s bigger than I need, and more expensive to maintain than I can afford (unless I want to spend my last years on the street).

Plus I’ve been single since 2001 and the solitary lifestyle is getting stale. So three years ago I decided what I needed was a sugar daddy… some brilliant, charming, loving, handy, and financially comfortable man with whom to share my life and my home.

Unfortunately, qualified men who were also eligible are scarcer than the dodo bird in my town. Especially since I disqualify Republicans and evangelicals.

So I foisted the task of finding me a new mate off on my son-in-law, who knows all sorts of fascinating people around the country.

Nada.  Plus I learned that he has several other female clients who have given him the same task – and they are younger than me.

Yesterday I was talking with my daughter about the sorry state of my finances, and she gave me a talking to:

“Mom,” she said, “Operation Sugar Daddy is entering into its fourth unsuccessful year. When are you going to come up with a different financial strategy?”

Hurt to the core by my daughter’s lack of trust, I started to write a P-word post on the subject, one with a hip name, like “Project Pwned,” to show how youthful I was. Unfortunately I was unsure of the correct usage of “pwned.”

I saw that my #2 son was on googletalk at the moment so I messaged him for illumination. And this is how that conversation went:

Me: Vocabulary help needed…   If Heather makes fun of me for falling down on my Operation Sugar Daddy Project, can I say the project was pwned?

#2 Son: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Actually… you’d say Heather pwned you.

Me: Oops. Glad I asked, because I’ve got P-word post in the offing about my abject failure in Operation Sugar Daddy department.

#2 Son: It’s about owning or dominating another person. Look it up here: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=pwn

Me: So its done to a person not to a project or effort.

#2 Son: Well, kind of. If you were to have kicked ass at Operation SD, you would’ve “pwned” the project. As in, dominated it. A tough week at work could “pwn you”, meaning it defeated you.

Me: OK so I could be pwnd by Operation SD?

#2 Son: Well, not exactly. The project didn’t pwn you–it didn’t dominate you. It just never went anywhere. It was like that horse at the track that doesn’t move a muscle when the gates open, instead choosing to stand there, with a lost and slightly vacant look in its eyes… like a drunk who’s lost a bet.

Me: Jeez – Give me a break. Heather already pointed out the Plan had some flaws.

#2 Son: Exactly. The Plan had the fatal flaw of never actually existing.

I’ve got one more child to go to for sympathy.

Or maybe I ought to create a PLAN for Operation SD… ya think?

Poor me: from posh to pauper

Poor: adj. characterized by poverty, lacking an adequate supply, exciting pity

Posh: adj. typical of or intended for the upper classes

Pauper: n. a person with little or no money, a person destitute of means except such as are derived from charity

I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself. And really, I don’t because I have so so much for which to be grateful.

BUT.

In the space of a few months my situation has gone from middle class comfortable to precarious. If I didn’t know that there are millions of others like me out there, I’d be totally freaked out. With each plunge of the markets (stock and housing) I watch my life savings flutter away into the skies like the autumn leaves I just raked on Re-wind.

I always knew that some day I’d need to move into smaller digs. At times, when the yard work or home upkeep seems overwhelming, I actually look forward to living in a tiny place.  But like so many, I envisioned that time to be years in the future.

Now it appears that time is upon me.

The question is: how do I get from where I am today – in this comfy house full of family treasures (including my mother’s baby grand piano and antique dining table, boxes of photos, framed art) – to the small digs I can afford?

It’s one thing to downsize when you can get a decent price for the stuff you must jettison in the process.  It’s something else when you have to unload valuable things at a big loss (like my house – my biggest investment!).  In another five or ten years my kids might live in large or permanent enough spaces to take these precious family heirlooms, but the stuff can’t wait.  That hurts.

All the kids will be here for Christmas, so maybe they’ll have some good ideas about my down-sizing plan. Or maybe I’ll just have Santa bring me a sugar daddy.