Coupon Avenger to the rescue!

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and with one look at our bank account and stock portfolio statements, it seems like yours truly and company are sure enough at the bottom of this economic downturn.

Gone are the days of eating out twice a week. Gone are all the pizzas delivered to our door in 30 minutes or less. And, yes, gone are those University of Georgia season football tickets on the 50-yard line. Not really — I don’t have any football tickets, but if I did, they’d be gone.

Taking a page from our government, last weekend, The Wife and I had an economic summit of our own. We didn’t invite any foreign leaders, Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke didn’t return my calls, and President Bush was a no show — again.

So The Wife and I headed for the basement to work on our budget and cost savings, a job that would surely take hours to complete. Have I mentioned before that we make wine in the basement?

“We either have to make more money, or find a way not to spend as much.” When The Wife heard this statement, she said that I was brilliant and good old Ben better watch out for his job.

Bolstered by her confidence, I laid out an economic stimulus plan that would soon have us back in the ranks of the middle class. She smiled and reminded me that another name for the middle class was the working class.

Not deterred, I pulled out the Sunday newspaper and the neat new red and black scissors from the kitchen. It cost $2, and is full of coupons – the newspaper, not the scissors. They cost 40 bucks and I’ve used them to cut chicken, celery, rope, wire and that thick shrink plastic that everything is now secured behind.

For some unexplained reason, The Wife’s new red and black scissors don’t cut so well anymore and were no match for the paper coupons. I got a razor knife from the tool room.

All we have to do is spend a little time clipping coupons, sort them, drive all over town buying stuff we’ll never use and we’ll save a ton of cash.

The Wife wanted to make sure that “we” really meant me. I assured her that it did and to please call me by my alter ego name of Coupon Avenger, and continued to cut coupons out on the leather table top.

Most of the next day, Coupon Avenger traveled around to five different stores with his shoebox full of economic stimulus package, taking advantage of the best deals in town.

Anything that was two for one, Coupon Avenger bought. Whether we actually used it or not didn’t matter – what did was the fact that it was buy one and get one free and there was a coupon for an additional 75 cents off in the shoebox.

Ten boxes of Raisin Bran meant five were free. Hot dogs were buy five, get two free, so I did — the fact that we never eat hot dogs never slowed me down. That yucky yogurt flavor that no one ever eats and ends up being thrown away – Coupon Avenger bought $10 worth.

It seems that, if it’s off brand and tastes bad, it’s on sale and there’s a coupon for it. After spending $250 but saving $125, Coupon Avenger left the last grocery story for one more mission.

The last stop was the furniture store downtown. I had to order a new leather top for the table downstairs. Seems it doesn’t hold up too well to the quick slashing knife of the Coupon Avenger.

Once back home, it took over an hour to unload and trudge all the super deals into the house. The Wife was waiting, took one look at the huge pile on the kitchen floor and asked, “What are we going to do with four boxes of Pampers? We don’t have any babies.”

“It was a great deal; not only were the diapers two for one, but Coupon Avenger had a dollar off coupon.”

The Wife smiled and patted me on the head. “I’ll help you take this stuff back. The Pampers we’ll keep. The way you’re losing it – it won’t be long until we’ll need them.”