As the tally stands of this writing, the balance of my unborn daughter’s college fund is exactly $0.00. I don’t feel bad. And I blame my mother. But not in the way you would think or in a way that would give me satisfaction. Though, while we’re on the topic of parental blame, I do blame her for my horrible and gnawing attraction to reality TV shows. It’s sad when you’re in a hotel room in Canmore, getting ready to go eat at a steakhouse kind enough to let me cork the expensive bottle of wine I’d bought (whether the food was good or not is besides the point), and I can’t stick around for an Undercover Boss marathon because I’ve already seen them all, watched back-to-back over a ten-day period.

Help me get back on topic here, people. I suck at saving money – something I’ve been told, repeatedly, that I need to start doing – and I wrote about it over at The Scrib and you should go read it, share it, like it or whatever other network societal sign of approval you can think of.