Expensive shoes, overpriced lattes and real estate.

What if you bought a pair of heels for $85 in Chicago and then you went on vacation to LA and those SAME shoes were $285… and THEN you went to your cousin’s wedding in Podunk, Indiana and those SAME snazzy kicks that were $85 in Chicago and $285 dollars in LA were only 5 bucks in the state that is considered the “armpit of Illinois?”

This kind of situation would NEVER happen, right? Why would the SAME product differ so drastically in price just based on where you are in the U.S.? Sure, prices fluctuate with taxes and some big cities can get away with charging an extra buck or two for a latte, but no product would have THAT big of a price difference.

However, if you insert a few extra zeros to those shoe prices and replace “shoe” with “house” it is not as surprising. And THAT boggles my mind.

Remember my rants last summer on starting my house hunt? Well, now the soon-to-be hubs and I have had our home for going on eight months and we’ve proudly gone from naïve property virgins to… naïve property owners. Somehow the mysteries of home ownership will never work themselves out in my mind.

So me the man were walking around our neighborhood the other night, two 60 somethings trapped in the bodies of 24 year olds, and decided to pull the flyers attached to the “for sale” signs we passed. First, the language these realtors use cracks me up… “stunning property with spacious patio and beautifully updated kitchen.” Translation? The backyard is pretty small because the previous owners decided to build a deck that was way too big for the property and out of all the rooms in the house, the kitchen is definitely not the worst part. As a PR professional and spin doctor, I tip my hat to you, realtors.

As we perused the listings and squinted at the thumbnail size pictures of the showcased rooms, I became baffled by the range of prices for what is a very small range of houses. We live in a “cookie cutter” neighborhood where all the homes were built by the same builder. Every 10th house you’ll find a home that resembles your own with a different paint color and/or a better car on the driveway. Unless a home has been dramatically upgraded or has a dead body in the basement, the prices should be pretty consistent among similar sized homes.

So what makes one home more valuable than the other? I have become addicted to home renovation shows and one of my favorite shows on HGTV has three realtors come in to put a value on a home after it has been flipped. Without fail you’ll always have one realtor who prices a home $50K to $100K more than their counterparts. That just shows that home value sometimes has nothing to do with the market and everything to do with perception.

Don’t get me wrong, adding upgraded appliances and installing hardwood floors in your home should rack in more money compared to a house that has a fridge from 1972 and shag carpet. But that aside, there is no other consumer product in this country that has such a loose basis for value.

As we begin to put the final touches on our own home, I started to think, what makes OUR home valuable? When we’re ready to move on from his humble abode why will someone pay more money for our place than the one down the street?

So here is my stab at writing a realtor-inspired description of our house:

Single family home spruced up by multiple family help. High grade paint throughout mixed with sweat and tears for that extra shine. Current owners pride themselves on being anal – male owner specifically licks his finger to pick up loose crumbs after the floors have been washed by hand. Open floor plan designed with an open mind. Although the love put into the home does not come with the purchase of the house, current owners anticipate that they’ll leave some remnants behind.

Now THAT is the kind of home that inspires you to buy expensive shoes and dance around with an overpriced latte - PRICELESS.

Next time, I'm bringing my cousin, Vinny.

It’s official. I’m a criminal. Although I won’t be making a cameo on Locked Up, I was forced to plead guilty to speeding to be granted court supervision and to have the FAULTY ticket wiped from my record. My other option was to speak the truth, plead not guilty and have to somehow convince the judge that a law enforcement official was wrong. I didn’t technically have real evidence, every one BUT me seemed to have some kind of legal representation speaking on their behalf and the judge reminded me of the “Judy’ variety, so I swallowed my pride, took the guilty verdict and ran…

Well, actually, I was forced to run and then stand in a line for an hour to pay for my court costs. Hopefully that money will be put towards a green initiative so at least this horrid experience contributed to the planting of a tree. And if I ever find out what tree that is, I’m going to saw it down and spit on it… the innocent never rest!

So to ensure that this traumatic experience wasn’t a TOTAL waste of my time, I thought I would outline a few interesting observations about the Cook County court system for your reading pleasure:

-- Apparently only men have to take off their belts in a security line, not women… I would think that everyone should just keep their belts on to avoid gang whippings and pants droppings.

-- They have bars of soap in the bathroom… bars. Nothing says cesspool like a used piece of soap that has been manhandled by criminals… after seeing the dingy bar of soap lying on the counter, I decided that I rather get a bladder infection than use the restroom.

-- Alleged criminals also come in all shapes and sizes… AND outfits. I saw everything from ripped jeans to hooded sweatshirts to pleather. I was probably the best dressed “civilian” and could have passed for a lawyer... if only I thought to approach the bench as “Stejamoe’s Legal Counsel.” Hindsight is always 20/20.

-- The court system takes cash, check AND credit – I charged my court fees… I wonder if the Discover Network will ever have a “criminal month” where they give you extra cash back for all legal-related purchases.

-- Vinny Gambini's character is based solely on FACT.

I hope to never step foot in that court house again and I plan on going 2 mph UNDER the speed limit moving forward. After this experience, I’m now completely okay with people passing me as I inch towards my destination. I’m willing to do anything to avoid another unjust confrontation with Officer Nasty, but if I’m ever forced to fight for my innocence again, I’m calling Joe Pesci to see if he's available to represent me.

Stejamoe Locked Up

I have to admit that I’m a little weird when it comes to what kind of TV shows I like to watch. I’m definitely not the kind of gal who gets into series or sitcoms. I don’t watch the Hills religiously like so many other 20 something females do nor do I set aside time every week for Gossip Girl. I don’t even have a “regular” show I watch every week and am perfectly happy to catch up on the Real World during a weekend marathon.

However, the one show that I do try to catch is MSNBC’s Locked Up. For those of you not well versed in cable news shows, Locked Up is a documentary series that profiles different state prisons and prisoners.

Before we go any further, yes, I HATE scary movies, I close my eyes during the Sarah McLaughlin’s “save the animals” commercial because the images are too painful and I also jump at any and all loud noises. But there is something about Locked Up that I love. I find it fascinating. Maybe it’s because the show is more about the human mind than violence. You’ll rarely see anything graphic; it’s all about getting to know what goes through the mind of a sociopathic killer or how prison guards learn to deal with complex workings of gang rituals. You can’t make this kind of stuff up, people!

Perhaps I feel protected by the barrier of my TV screen as I get reeled in by an interview with a crazy convict who burned off his left hand during a meth lab debacle and can’t be confined by traditional handcuffs anymore… I know, disgusting, but for some reason I rather watch one hand Willy talk about his motivation to sell drugs than hear the constant whining of Meredith on Grey’s Anatomy.

But now the distant stories of Locked Up aren’t so distant. I find myself facing the law and will be going to court tomorrow. In less than 24 hours, I could very likely be on the other side of the TV screen being interviewed by MSNBC, wearing an orange jump suit, black colored pencil for eyeliner and coffee grounds mixed with toothpaste for mascara (women do that in prison, you know… at least the knowledge I’ve garnered from Locked Up will make me look like I have some street cred).

No, I didn’t murder my mom’s ex-husband’s girlfriend. I didn’t get caught cookin’ up meth in the basement of my grandma’s house. I also didn’t shank anyone in my office, although the confines of this cubicle could get to me one day. I was allegedly caught speeding and received my FIRST citation. Take that, one handed meth man!!!

I use the word “allegedly” because like all good criminals, you never confess to your charges… however, this criminal was actually NOT speeding and was the unlucky car to get plucked away from a group of speeding SUVs late at night.

Long story short, I was given a ticket that wasn’t meant for me and my once perfectly clean driving record was put at risk and still remains in limbo. I have never even been pulled over before and my right leg is still trembling with fear from the experience that happened more than a month and a half ago.

The officer who issued me a ticket was a bitter female and until this experience I actually gave credit to those who serve our streets, but this lady has forever made me skeptical of the law. She was out for blood that night and she preyed of me and my adorable SUV stuffed with my adorable fiancé and adorable best friend on way to get pizza for a night in… how adorable. I have a feeling this adorable factor only made the officer angrier as she was plagued with a mild case of acne and wearing a not so cute uniform that did nothing for her figure.

Knowing for a fact that I was NOT speeding, I couldn’t help but to fight for my freedom and now will face the court tomorrow. I will have evidence, witnesses and my cunning to guide me through the process and only hope I come out to see the light of day. If not, I will use my Locked Up know how to survive the slammer.

And yes, while I may not be guilty of speeding, I AM guilty of being dramatic. But that’s why you love me.