Tag Archives: real housewives

Uncategorized

My Dream House

1 Comment

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of one day living in a house with a big backyard, a view of the ocean (or at least twinkling lights), a heated pool, hot tub, a grande foyer, marble, a mix of contemporary architecture and classic detailing, each room decorated and designed to perfection. These days, I’m a bit more reasonable when it comes to contemplating a home purchase, but my irrationality is kick-starting my savings for a down payment.

Actually buying a house may be years off, but one day I hope to do it. I have friends (who live in more affordable areas, and who generally are engaged or married) already taking the mortgage plunge. I’ll admit my jealousy, a bit, but I feel much better about it when I pay my $632 rent and have the rest of my money to save.

I can deal with living in cramped quarters for cheap rent, but I’m not sure I’ll be willing to make such a compromise when it comes time to seriously think about buying a house. I grew up in a mid-size home. It had a downstairs, an upstairs, 3 nice sized bedrooms (large by modern constructions standards), a master bedroom, a den, a kitchen, a living room and 3 bathrooms, not to mention an incredible, grassy backyard. Growing up in such middle-class luxury, it’s tough to think about raising a family in any place smaller than that.

But, as it goes, my dream house will likely be well out of reach.

A quick peak at any local real estate guide showcases my dream house for, at minimum, $1.5 mil. That is, in the Bay Area (San Mateo County), even a tiny house goes for $800k. You’re lucky to get a decent studio for $500k.

Back home in New Jersey, my parents nice house that I spent my entire childhood in isn’t even worth that! So it seems if I ever hope to own the house of my dreams, or anything close to it, the Bay Area is out of that picture.

Living in the Bay Area for the past three years has made me realize just how important it is to live a place that makes you happy, beyond just an apartment or house. Here, I have so much natural beauty around me I could live in a (waterproof) cardboard box and be happy (assuming I have gym access for a shower every so often).

But then there’s my hope to raise a family, two or three kids, and that takes a house big enough to fit those kids. That takes a lot of money. I don’t think it will come from my won’t-ask-for-a-raise boyfriend. So that means I need to start saving for a down payment, and also forcing myself to think realistically about what sort of house I will be able to afford.

For starters, I’m going to try to save $300 a month towards my down payent fund. The question is, where do I save this money? The stock market is probably a bad place for it, though it’s possible this is a good time to invest the cash if I hope to put a down payment on a house in 5 to 10 years. Or maybe that’s an awful idea. Maybe it should just go in an ING CD and stay there until I’m read to spend it.

The other issue is graduate school. If I decide to go, there goes my down payment, and then some. My lifetime earnings may increase, but not my purchasing power in 5 years.

I just can’t fathom saving $200k for the downpayment on a $1M home. Even half of that seems impossible. Not to mention that someone making $60k is not supposed to buy a home that costs that much. What’s the rule… no more than 4 times your income? Uh, I can’t get ANYTHING for $240k in this area.

I could probably borrow the money from my dad’s 401k once he has access to it, but as I’ve written before, I want to try my best to be financially independent from my parents, as I have been since graduating college. Being a spoiled kid is one thing, but you can’t really be an adult until… you go into debt buying something you really want, and need, and that will make you money in the long run.

Culture, Entertainment

Millionaires, Boobs, Big Houses, and Reality TV

4 Comments

Forget the talent portion, these days reality TV stars can make a career out of being – themselves, without any talent besides perky tits, an itty-bitty waistline, and the ability to convince an television audience that they’re a money-hungry dumb slut. But hey, they’re making way more money than I am and probably having a lot more fun doing it, so who am I to judge?

In our culture, we reward people for being as superficial as possible. The latest news from the world of Reality TV is that Megan Hauserman, the big-breasted bombshell of Beauty & the Geek, Rock of Love 2, Charm School, and I Love Money is starring in her own gold-digging reality series.

In case you’re a millionaire who wants to broadcast your quest for a trophy wife on TV (instead of just hiring a high-priced call girl like a good, normal millionaire), Megan, the accounting major from Florida, wants you. That is, she wants your money. And you. As much as any star on a reality TV dating show could actually want another person who needs reality TV to set them up.

She announced the casting search on her MySpace page earlier this month… are you “Looking for the ultimate TROPHY WIFE?” Not only would your prize come complete with a life’s worth of obnoxious and bank-account draining spending habits, you’ll also win, uh, the right to one hellova pre-nup if you decide to actually seal the deal.

Granted, I’m guilty for watching these TV shows. I can’t get enough of gold diggers and the wealthy, and their drama. It makes me somehow be able to accept and take pride in my middle class status. It also makes me terribly jealous of women who are hot enough to qualify for a television show where they are offered on a silver platter as a Trophy Wife.

Another show all about money, from a bit more normal perspective, is Bravo’s “Real Housewives of…” I’ve caught a few episodes of their various series – Orange County, New York, and Atlanta… and I must say, I’m more jealous of these women than I am of Ms. Trophy Wife Hauserman. Then again, most of them were that hot when they were in their 20s and 30s (most are still that hot, just in the 40+ year old sense… I don’t think you can be a Trophy Wife once you hit a certain age, then you’re just a wife.)

Still, these women are… real people. Their psychology is a bit different than that of say, a normal working person with no means of reaching the upper echelons of society, and they expect a bit more out of their shopping sprees… but even with all that money, they’re still real people. I watched an episode recently where two couples went to Sonoma’s wine country and felt awkward in a ritzy restaurant that served a bagillion mini courses and offered a snobs dream menu. It’s fun to watch the rich feel silly being what rich is supposed to be.

Another reality TV series I couldn’t help but watch lately is Paris Hilton’s: My New BFF. The series ended a few weeks back, but I remember the episodes clearly. And in the end, I still don’t understand what the contestents were competing for, and how this supposed friendship would work. It makes for riviting TV (on the reality TV show spectrum, on MTV) for sure, but why compete to be a best friend? Friendships, like relationships, are supposed to be equal. You can’t compete for a best friend and then expect a relationship to be normal. Paris bought her BFF contestents expensive gifts throughout the competition — they shared lavish days at the spa, gold-plated $1000 sundaes in NY, and shopping sprees where Paris announced “it’s on me, whatever you want.” I doubt that’s how the “friendship” would work once the show concluded.

If anything, the show was interesting because what Paris was really looking for was a business partner. With Nicole Richie out of the picture, who would be her assistant (I mean, partner) in crime? She needs someone who looks cute, takes a good photo, and can help her continue to brand… herself. The show didn’t mention any sort of pay this best friend would be getting, but how would her new bestie afford to be Paris’ friend without some compensation? The show should have really been called Paris Hilton’s: My New VP

I do applaud MTV for their series Exiled, where they take super spoiled teens (who appeared on My Super Sweet Sixteen) and send them to third world countries, where they’re forced to spend a week living in the shoes of people with far less than them. They have to do things even I wouldn’t do – like build houses with cow poop. Ew. It’s a good show in teaching these young, spoiled children about the rest of the world before they’re too old and spoiled to care.