Goldfinger!

So I moved into the new place over this past weekend and now that I have bigger digs, I got room for more stuff. So, like George Carlin identified years ago, I've fallen into the MORE STUFF endless abyss. Now that I have more room, I have to buy more stuff...until I have too much stuff and then will need to move so I can have more room...for more stuff...and so on and so on.

But for now I'm enjoying the thrill of playing interior designer. Only bad thing, unlike outfitting my creations in the digital world on a game of The Sims 3, shit in the real world costs REAL money!

Much like the Bond-film-esque musical cue ascribed to the occasional mention of the mysterious "Mr. F." in the third season of "Arrested Development," I hum (to myself) the opening notes to the real Bond film song "Goldfinger" every time I even think about buying something for the place. Like the eponymous character in that film, I'm acting like a madman about money. Only instead of nuking the gold in Fort Knox, I'm nuking my credit cards. Well, not really, I'll pay them off. Only now it will take more time. Like maybe years. Ugh.

Just got done ordering my new loveseat and bed from IKEA. $850+.

GOLDFINGER!

Last night I spent over $200 at Walmart on area rugs, bath accessories and knick-knack items.

GOLDFINGER!

Still need a dining room table and possibly the chairs.

GOLDFINGER!

And my the bedroom walls and windows look bare.

GOLDFINGER!

Well, good thing I can't be billed for royalties on songs I sing to myself in my head. Otherwise Eartha Kitt's estate would be demanding a big check from me.