Jul 4, 05 09:55 AM
This is an embarrassing admission.
I have the credit history of an ex-drug user. Meaning: I have no credit history. I was too busy getting fucked up, so I never got around to it. Since I first got a record deal, I've always used my manager's AmEx to buy plane tickets and stuff like that, but secretly I've been a blank page as far at the financial world's concerned. A thirty-five year old man with no credit.
That is: until now. I got a secured credit card about a year ago, on the encouragement of Rich from Galactic. "This is America," he said. "They want you to have credit." I did my 12-month bid as a pretend-credit consumer, and then decided to take the plunge. I sent in one of those credit card application YOU'RE ALREADY APPROVED! packets my mailbox always mocks me with, and promptly forgot about it. But on Friday, I got an envelope with an actual credit card in it.
So I took Scrap and his wife and daughter Larry (yes, Larry) and their friend Sara Champagne out for lime rickeys and a peanut-butter-bomb at Teany, and paid with my brand new Chase-endorsed piece of plastic. And here, today, on the Fourth of July, I'm here to tell you: I'm in debt! For $54.54, to be exact. Now I'm an American for real.Posted by Mike at July 4, 2005 9:55 AM